Fergis, Clara, and Dhalia were waiting outside Cane's dorm when he dragged himself up the last few steps to the third floor. The door stood open.
Cane didn't break stride, walking past them into the room where Telamon sat in the only chair, and Elohan leaned casually against the window ledge.
"Why are you guys waiting out there?" Cane dropped his satchel into his ring and sat heavily on the bed.
Telamon gestured, and a large map unrolled across the floor. "Cane, can you show us where Jonas Ironfist is being held?"
Cane nodded. "Yeah. As of three days ago, he was here." He pointed to a coastal marker.
Elohan studied the map. "Small inlet. My guess? It's a prep camp—probably gearing up for the new front."
"Agreed," Telamon said, fingers flicking to point out the position. "Since cadets aren't military, your team can move in without violating the War Pact. Free Jonas before they mobilize. He's a top-tier blacksmith—they'll want to relocate him before the fighting starts."
Cane cursed under his breath. He hadn't considered that. "The front opens in a few days. We'll move the second Elohan gets back with solid intel."
"It's risky," Telamon said, casting a look toward the others. "You'll be walking into the jaws of the beast. It's fine to say no. We can swap anyone out, no judgment."
Fergis didn't hesitate. "I'm in."
Clara and Dhalia nodded immediately.
When the Archmage and Elohan left, the group stayed, conversation turning to the looming frontlines.
"Any word from Ignatius? How's training?" Cane asked. He missed the Fury Company soldiers. A few weeks in the field with them had given him a real glimpse into life as a foot soldier.
"Going strong," Fergis replied. "They're prepping a full battalion of fire users. After that, an entire Legion."
Clara elbowed Dhalia with a grin. "How do you think our boy knows so much?"
Fergis flushed. "Teek sent a message. Just… saying hi."
Cane's brow lifted. Teek had been one of his platoon sergeants. She'd taken a liking to Fergis—at least, it seemed that way. "I didn't get a message from her."
"Me neither," Dhalia said dryly.
Fergis huffed. "Don't start. It was just one message, and it was for all of us."
Cane smirked. "You do know they screen messages from the front, right? Just in case."
Fergis blinked. "They do?"
"Of course. Can't risk secrets getting out." Cane studied him. Maybe it was more personal than Fergis let on.
"So this is a stealth mission?" Dhalia asked, redirecting.
"Exactly," Cane said. "Terror Legion will be thick in that area. Once Elohan returns, we'll plan. No waiting for the weekend."
A knock interrupted. Sophie peeked in, smiling shyly. "Am I interrupting?"
"Not possible," Cane said, gesturing her in.
"My mum invited us to dinner." She took a seat beside him on the bed.
"Perfect. I've got some smithing to finish up first."
Fergis laughed. "You've been doing the town's smithing for months. I never put it together. That mask really throws people off."
"Yeah," Cane admitted. "At least I don't have to pretend around you guys anymore." The truth of it was—letting them in had lifted a weight he didn't realize he was carrying.
"I get it," Dhalia said. Her own clinic had kept her constantly busy. Her skill had grown rapidly.
Later, after the group left, Cane changed into a sleeveless shirt and stepped onto the transport rune to the smithy. He slid on the blacksilver mask—and disappeared into the persona of the masked smith once again.
Even with his friends in the know, the town and Academy were not. So the illusion stayed.
The forge lit as Cane entered, casting warm light across the tools and walls. He set down a head-sized chunk of starmetal. Though he could only harvest slivers at a time, that was probably for the best. The element carried weight—both physical and metaphysical.
"I want to see what the immersion feels like while I'm joined with the ringworld." He pressed his hand to the starmetal and stepped into it, shielding his eyes from the sudden flash of white brilliance. "This is a first."
Within, he hovered before the star—radiant, powerful, at its zenith. He waited, breath caught.
Then, it shifted—glowing red, expanding. Cane's perspective tilted, like flipping a page in an unseen book.
White, then red. Is this tied to the red core of my aspects?
The outer layers of the star broke away, dissolving into a cloud of color-shifting dust—blues and violets dancing like breath across space. A reminder of his blue star.
Finally, the cloud faded, and what remained was the superheated white core, cooling steadily—until it blackened. The dark star.
When Cane stepped back out, he held three small slivers of starmetal in his palm. Dense. Weighted. Alive.
Now separated from the source, the metal was pliable. He split it into a dozen thin slivers and alloyed them with aluminum for lightness.
The fusion came easily—molecular bonding under his fingertips, waste matter dissolving cleanly. When finished, he laid the work out on his bench and activated the black node on all of them.
Each piece was about three inches long and shaped like a slim blade. Meant as projectiles—deadly, silent, psi-enhanced. If he progressed far enough, he'd use them like extensions of will.
He tested one, dropping it from shoulder height.
It vanished through the metal workbench and embedded itself in the wood below like it was slipping into water.
"Damn it..." Cane muttered, spending several minutes digging it out.
"If my psi abilities were stronger, I could've just willed it back out."
He checked the time. "Crap… better get going. Dinner with the Sweetwaters."
**
"Really?" Cane leaned forward as Sophie shared the latest report on the young gryphons' antics with him and her parents.
The gryphons had settled comfortably at the top of the Academy's aerie and had taken to following Sophie nearly everywhere. She had quietly taken on the responsibility of feeding and grooming them, while Tor, the beastmaster, handled their training.
"Feeding and grooming's reinforcing the bond," Cane said, grinning at the sudden look of alarm on Sophie's face. "No wonder they follow you around like lost puppies."
She blushed, but Cane wasn't done. "You know... once they're trained for riders, they can reach the capital in just a few hours."
Sophie pursed her lips. "I'd like to try something like that. Riding a gryphon."
Lorna exchanged a quiet glance with Dagan. Their daughter had grown more in the past few months than she had in the previous eighteen years. And while they didn't say it aloud, both of them knew Cane was part of that change—part of why she was blooming into her own strength.
Cane listened as Lorna talked about the new tailor shop she was opening in the capital. Dagan, meanwhile, grumbled about her two new apprentices, who apparently did little but ask questions and slow her down. It was the kind of conversation Cane didn't realize he'd missed—casual, familiar, and full of the subtle comfort of family.
After dinner, Lorna invited Cane to her workspace to show off three of her newest dresses. They chatted as Cane carefully interwove a gossamer-thin sheet of platinum through the cloth, his hands precise. With a final tap from Blue, the mythical glacial seal shimmered across the fabric, sealing the enhancement.
The platinum-weave dresses had become the latest craze in the capital. Lorna's designs would fetch a fortune at auction.
"I'm curious to see how the next auction will go," Cane said, stifling a yawn. "Sorry... I feel like I can't get enough sleep these days."
Lorna stood and pulled him into a hug. "You work so hard. Thank you—for everything."
Cane accepted the hug with a tired smile. "I'll take pie as a reward."
Lorna laughed. "Just baked one this morning."
"What? That's my pie!" Dagan's voice came from the other room, where he and Sophie were still talking.
Feeling only slightly guilty, Cane watched Sophie cut her father a generous slice and wrap it carefully before giving the rest to Cane.
The walk back to the Academy was a gentle, moonlit stretch of road. Sophie talked non-stop, reliving every moment from the past week—her voice animated, her hands swinging in wide arcs that matched their pace.
"Am I rambling?" she asked, finally pausing.
"Yes," Cane said with a soft smile. "But that's the Sophie I love."
Sophie stopped, eyes searching his face. "Is that just an expression or...?"
"It's both," Cane said. "It's an expression—and I love you."
She leapt into his arms, holding him tightly. "I love you too, Cane."