Recess was announced .
A short bell echoed through the academy halls, low and precise, cutting cleanly through the murmurs of students rising from their seats. Chairs scraped softly against stone floors. Books were closed. Conversations resumed—not loudly, but with the contained excitement of people who had been holding themselves in check for too long.
Cain did not move immediately.
He remained seated for a moment longer, hands resting lightly on the desk, posture unchanged. The urge from earlier had not returned, but the absence of it did not bring relief. If anything, it made the memory sharper.
*This isn't mine.*
The thought had not faded. It lingered like an afterimage—proof that something had touched the edge of his awareness and withdrawn before he could grasp it.
"Oi."
A voice broke the quiet near him.
Cain turned his head slightly.
Rei stood beside his desk, arms loosely crossed, familiar presence relaxed but alert. His expression was open, casual, as though approaching Cain required no special consideration at all.
"Recess," Rei said, unnecessary but friendly. "You heading out?"
"Yes," Cain replied.
Rei smiled faintly. "Same. I was thinking of grabbing something from the commons before it gets crowded."
Cain stood, gathering his things with the same measured movements he always used. "I'll return to my room."
Rei blinked once, then shrugged. "Fair. Guess I'll see you later then."
They fell into step together as they exited the classroom, not side by side, not deliberately spaced—just naturally aligned. The corridor outside had already filled with students, voices layering over one another in controlled noise.
Familiars were absent.
As Halden had stated, none were permitted outside designated areas. The rule was being followed without complaint, at least for now. Cain noticed it immediately—the subtle tension in some students, the way a few glanced instinctively toward their shoulders or the empty space beside them.
Rei noticed too.
"Feels weird," he said quietly. "Like leaving part of yourself behind."
Cain did not answer.
The hallway split at the central archway. Rei slowed. "I'm heading the other way. Catch you later, Cain."
Cain nodded once and continued on alone.
The academy dormitory wing was quieter during recess. Most students preferred common areas, courtyards, or dining halls. Cain passed only a handful of first-years along the way, their footsteps echoing faintly against stone.
As he reached his floor, the urge returned.
Not sharply.
Not violently.
It was subtle—like a pressure change behind his eyes. A direction without instruction.
Cain slowed.
He stopped walking entirely, standing in the corridor with his hand hovering just short of his door. The sensation wasn't pain. It wasn't fear.
It was *pull*.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The room was exactly as he had left it. Orderly. Still. Sunlight filtered through the tall window, casting clean lines across the floor.
And then he saw it.
The shadow near the wall shifted.
Not dramatically. Not unnaturally. Just enough to break the stillness.
Cain closed the door behind him.
The shadow cat stood near the foot of the bed, body low, form partially merged with the darker stretch beneath the desk. Its outline was clearer than before—sleek, compact, edges soft but deliberate. Its eyes were faint points of reflected light, unreadable.
Cain did not speak.
The urge intensified slightly.
Not a command.
An acknowledgment.
Cain exhaled slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on his knees. His gaze remained fixed on the familiar, but his posture showed no tension. He was not threatened. He was not startled.
He was assessing.
The cat moved.
Soundlessly.
It stepped forward, paws barely disturbing the light on the floor, and leapt onto the desk in a single, fluid motion. The movement was precise—too precise for a creature acting on instinct alone.
Cain felt it again.
A flicker.
Not words.
*Awareness.*
His breath caught—not in fear, but in recognition.
"This isn't… verbal," Cain murmured quietly, more to himself than to the room.
The cat's tail flicked once.
Not in response.
In confirmation.
Cain's eyes narrowed slightly.
Before he could focus further—
Bang.
A sudden loud knock struck the door across the corridor.
Cain's attention snapped outward.
Another bang followed—this time closer.
Laughter echoed faintly outside, quick and unrestrained.
A group of students.
Pranking.
The familiar reacted before Cain did.
It vanished.
Not invisibly—*spatially*. One moment it stood on the desk, the next it melted into the shadow cast by the wardrobe, its presence flattening and stretching until it was indistinguishable from darkness.
Cain stood.
His body moved without instruction, stepping back from the door just as another knock landed—harder this time—on *his* door.
Bang.
Cain's heart rate spiked—not from the noise, but from the sensation that followed.
The same pull.
Stronger.
Clearer.
He looked toward the wardrobe.
The shadow shifted.
Not randomly.
Positioning.
*It knew.*
Cain did not open the door.
The knocking moved on, laughter fading as footsteps retreated down the corridor.
Silence returned.
Cain remained standing.
Slowly, the shadow separated itself from the wardrobe again. The cat emerged, posture calm, eyes fixed on Cain. Its breathing—if it could be called that—was steady.
Cain felt something settle.
Not understanding.
Acceptance.
"So that was you," Cain said quietly.
The cat did not respond.
But the pressure eased.
Cain sat back down, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his trousers. His thoughts moved quickly now—not panicked, not scattered. Structured.
*It can signal me.*
Not constantly.
Not deliberately.
But instinctively.
He didn't know how. He didn't know the limits. He didn't know whether it was temporary or permanent.
But it was real.
Cain closed his eyes briefly.
This wasn't possession.
This wasn't control.
It was… alignment.
The bell rang again.
Recess ending.
Cain opened his eyes.
The familiar had already withdrawn, dissolving once more into the shallow shadows near the bed. Its presence faded—not gone, but distant.
Cain stood, straightened his uniform, and left the room.
The corridor had returned to order by the time he stepped out. Students flowed back toward classrooms, conversations muted by routine.
Cain merged into the movement without resistance.
As he walked, the sensation did not return.
But something else remained.
A quiet certainty.
He was not alone.
And whatever had answered his summoning was not something he would command.
Nor something that would command him.
They would adapt.
Together.
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