Months passed since the Dratonian Forest.
Quiet months.
Real ones.
After everything—after roots tearing through earth, blood staining leaves, thunder ripping the sky apart—the stillness felt almost unreal. At first, I kept waiting for something to go wrong. Another alarm. Another emergency mission. Another roar shaking the ground.
But it never came.
Spring softened into warmth, and warmth stretched into long, gentle days. The academy returned to its rhythm—bells ringing, boots against stone halls, laughter echoing where screams once had. The Dratonian Forest became something people talked about in hushed voices, not something that bled into every dream.
Life… felt normal again.
I was monitored daily at first. Aura readings. Physical checkups. Mental evaluations that were gentle but thorough. They never said it outright, but I could feel it—everyone was watching me a little more closely than before. Not with fear. Not with suspicion.
With concern.
My aura training changed too. Less pushing. More control. Instructor Aldred—arm still scarred—made sure I understood restraint as much as strength. Sir Zenite's words stayed with me through every session: Don't lose sight of your progress. Keep moving onward.
So I did.
Classes resumed fully. Strategy lectures. Formation drills. Sparring that stopped just short of true harm. We trained under the sun instead of under storm clouds. The academy gardens bloomed again—flowers Arion tended personally, hands gentle despite their strength. Aelira practiced her footwork near the fountains, ice forming only when she meant it to. Liam's golden aura shone bright during early morning drills, steady and confident.
Kai laughed again. Loudly. Recklessly. Like he hadn't stared death in the face just months ago.
Varein trained harder than anyone, but there was a calm to him now—a quiet vigilance. Kazen never stopped smiling, bow always slung over his shoulder, mist curling lazily around his arrows like it finally had time to breathe.
And Seraphyne—
She was everywhere.
Student council duties, training sessions, festival planning meetings for next year already. She pretended everything was fine. But sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, her eyes drifted to me—just to make sure I was still there.
Class 1-S was lively again.
No crutches. No bandages. Just scars hidden beneath uniforms and memories tucked behind smiles. We joked about rankings, argued over food portions, complained about early drills. Someone—probably Kai—started a rumor about sneaking out past curfew again, and Liraeth shut it down with one look.
It felt easy to breathe.
For the first time in a long while, I felt at ease.
Summer crept in slowly. The air grew warmer, the nights longer. Spring officially ended, and with it came whispers that spread through the dorms like wildfire.
Summer break.
No missions scheduled. No forced training camps. Just time.
Time to rest.
Time to live.
On the final week before break, the academy felt lighter. Instructors were less strict. Assignments shorter. Even Aldred looked less severe, though he'd never admit it. The students talked about plans—visiting family, traveling cities, doing absolutely nothing at all.
I didn't really have plans.
And I was okay with that.
That evening, I stood alone on the balcony overlooking the training grounds. The sun dipped low, painting the academy in gold and amber. Below me, Class 1-S had gathered without even realizing it—sparring lightly, laughing, arguing over technique, living.
The stone balcony was warm beneath my hands.
Not warm like fire—nothing like Ignis—but a quiet, gentle heat that seeped into my palms and slowly unraveled the tension I didn't realize I was carrying. The sun hung low over the academy, bathing the towers and training grounds in gold and amber.
Below us, Class 1-S was alive.
Too alive.
Laughter echoed across the courtyard, sharp and unrestrained. Someone shouted in triumph. Steel clashed against steel—practice weapons, hopefully—followed by a loud crack that made several instructors turn their heads in unison.
Kazen leaned against the railing beside me, white hair catching the light, teal aura flickering faintly around him like mist that hadn't decided whether it wanted to exist yet. His eyes were half-lidded with amusement as he watched the chaos unfold.
"They're going to break something before break even starts," he said.
"I think they already did," I replied quietly.
He followed my gaze to a cracked stone tile in the center of the courtyard. Fresh. Still dusted with rubble.
"…Yeah," Kazen muttered. "That one's new."
Liam and Kai were locked in a heated argument—hands moving, voices raised—about something that was definitely training-related and definitely not important enough to be shouting about. Theon stood between them, arms out, trying to mediate and failing spectacularly. Arion had collapsed against a pillar, laughing so hard he was barely breathing.
Aelira stood off to the side, arms crossed, silver-blue hair shimmering as she pretended not to smile.
Liraeth leaned casually against a column, plasma flickering lazily around her knuckles, watching everything with an expression that said she'd intervene only if things got really interesting.
And Seraphyne—
Seraphyne was yelling.
At everyone.
About something.
As usual.
It felt… normal.
Too normal.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The academy breathed around us. Summer pressed gently against my skin. For once, the world wasn't demanding anything from me.
Then—
SMACK.
"Ow—!"
I stumbled forward, a hand flying to my back as air rushed out of my lungs.
"Man," Kazen said cheerfully, "you're getting harder to sneak up on, I had to."
"You could've warned me," I muttered, straightening.
"Where's the fun in that?" He rested his elbows on the railing beside me. "Feels good, doesn't it?"
I looked down at them again. At my classmates. My friends.
"…Yeah," I said softly. "It really does."
There was a pause.
Then Kazen glanced at me sideways, eyes gleaming with unmistakable mischief.
"So," he said casually, "Should we all go to the beach?"
I blinked.
"…The beach?"
He stared at me.
I stared back.
Below us, something exploded. Someone cheered.
"…What's a beach?" I asked.
For a heartbeat, Kazen was silent.
Then he burst out laughing—full, unrestrained laughter that echoed across the balcony. He bent forward, gripping the railing as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.
"You're kidding," he wheezed. "Oh, we have to go now."
"I've heard the word before," I said defensively.
"That doesn't count."
"I know it doesn't count," I shot back. "That's why I asked."
He wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning. "Rain… you really don't know what a beach is?"
I shook my head.
The laughter faded into something quieter. Kazen leaned forward, gaze drifting past the academy walls toward the far horizon.
"It's where the land ends," he said. "And the ocean starts."
"…Ocean."
"Water that doesn't stop," he added. "You can't see the other side."
That made me pause.
I was born in the slums of Ignis—far from borders, far from coasts. Ignis sat deep in the lower right of Okrith, landlocked and burning. Zenonva and Lionhearth lay closer to the inner regions, surrounded by plains and forests. The edges of the world—the real edges—were stories. Maps. Things you learned about in class, not places you went.
Not places you went.
Kazen glanced at me. "You'll like it."
I considered that.
Then nodded slowly. "Okay."
He grinned. "That's it?"
"I don't see a reason not to."
He laughed again. I found myself smiling with him.
He faintly chuckled, clapping my shoulder—lighter this time. "Summer's for impossible things."
Below us, Class 1-S laughed, argued, lived.
And for the first time since the Dratonian Forest—
Everything felt like it was going to be okay.