The morning after the celebration smelled like stone dust, rising bread, and too many wildflowers blooming at once.
The city had a way of holding silence — even after nights like that. Even after a thousand voices shouting across towers, torchlight trailing over marble streets, bets exchanged, names chanted like spells.
Now, it was still.
The kind of stillness where you could almost hear the world breathing again.
I moved quietly.
Even in sleep, Salem hadn't let go of my hand — her frame curled halfway into my lap like a shadow learning to be soft. Her outline pulsed gently in my vision, warm violet and ember-orange around the edges, her mana brushing against mine like breath.
I leaned down. Pressed a kiss into her hair.
"Wake up, sleepy."
A small, muffled groan.
"Do I have to?"
"Yes," I whispered. "We've got a ride."
She blinked once — mana flickering sleepily in her eyes — then sat up like she hadn't just curled in my arms for hours like a child.
"Okay. I'm ready."
⸻
We said goodbye on the marble terrace above the Royal Quarter — just before the transport came to pick us up.
The air was fresh up here. Brighter. I could feel the sunlight like a slow burn on my skin — not searing. Just steady.
Daniel was first.
He didn't say anything at first. Just stood near the edge, eyes fixed out on the capital rooftops. His mana didn't move. It just… hung there. Low and tight, like he was clenching something too hard to hold.
"I lost," he said without turning. "First round."
"I know."
"I should've done better."
"Maybe."
Silence.
Then I said, gently, "But you didn't give up."
He blinked once. Finally turned his head.
"That counts?"
"It does to me."
His breath shook once — like something finally cracked and drained out of him. Then he nodded once.
"You'll be stronger next time," I added. "I believe in you."
"…Thanks."
And then I pulled him into a hug.
He didn't resist.
⸻
Julius and Kate were waiting by the lower gate — bags in hand, already dressed for travel.
"You leaving too?" Julius asked, grinning.
"Yeah. It's time."
He bumped his shoulder lightly into mine. "Good. I was worried you'd get a big head and stay here with the nobles."
"I'm not that special."
"Uh," Kate said, raising an eyebrow. "You did just beat the undefeated forest samurai in front of a million people."
"Details."
She laughed. "Write me when you get home."
"I will."
They pulled me into one last group hug — warm, tight, familiar.
"We'll see you again," Kate said.
"Always," I said.
⸻
Tovin was next.
He stood at the edge of the courtyard, still holding the short-blade I gave him. He must've polished it — the mana glimmered sharper now, like he'd already tried to reshape it.
"You really think I can be a ranked mage?" he asked when I reached him.
"If you train. And if you stop flinging yourself headfirst into danger and death."
He winced. "Yeah, that was bad idea but i got to meet you didn't i?"
"I guess thats a fair point, i am pretty awesome after all."
"Not just that Annabel. You are the future."
"Start meditating," I said, more serious now. "Twice a day. It'll increase your mana capacity. You've got decent control — but you need more stamina if you want to survive long fights."
He nodded, suddenly earnest. "I will. I swear."
I bumped the hilt of the sword in his hand. "Then you'll be fine."
⸻
King Beren was standing near the transport platform when we arrived — flanked by two guards, but otherwise alone.
He turned toward me as I approached.
We didn't bow.
I didn't need to.
"Heading home?" he asked, voice mild.
"Yes."
He nodded once. "You've earned the rest."
"Thank you. For the room. And for taking care of Rōko and Tovin."
"They deserved it."
⸻
Rōko found us just before we reached the gate.
"I'll see you in class," she said without greeting.
"You accepted?"
"King Beren made it sound like a mission. That I could fight devils there."
"You can."
"Then I'm going."
A pause.
Then she added, more quietly, "And maybe… I wouldn't mind a rematch. One day."
I smiled.
"Me neither."
⸻
The transport gates pulsed once — a shimmer of space bending like liquid.
Salem took my hand again.
I didn't flinch.
"Ready?" she asked softly.
I turned back one last time — to the towered outlines of a city that had, in a single week, changed how the world saw me.
"I think I am."
We stepped through.
The light folded.
And home rose to meet us.
———
The training field hummed with memory.
Even when no one was fighting, even when the wind was still, I could feel it — tension folded into the ground, sparks of long-spilled mana clinging to the edges of the field like ghostlight.
I stood in the center of the ring.
No blindfold. I hadn't worn it since the duel with Rōko.
Mana threads tracing the world's outline. Every blade of grass, every breath of wind, every heartbeat had a shimmer. Some brighter than others. Some faint as dust.
I raised my hand.
Metal drifted toward me — drawn from the air, responding to will before words. It swirled tight, forming a whip, long and thin. Not perfect. But it held shape.
I cracked it forward.
It missed the target by a breath.
A voice behind me, low and even. "Tighter core. You're losing cohesion on the edge pull."
"Again," I muttered.
Salem moved closer — not touching, just there. Her mana always carried heat, even when her voice didn't. Like a storm held behind skin.
She didn't give long lectures. Just corrections.
Simple. Focused. Brutal when needed.
One afternoon, after a long stretch of drills, I missed a core bind for the third time in a row.
Beside me, Salem's outline shifted — her mana flaring a little, then folding tight again. Quiet. Tense.
"You keep pulling away," she said. Not angry. Just… cautious. "When I get too close, you hesitate."
I turned toward her — catching only the blurred pulse of her shape, edged in a violet shadow. "You think I'm doing it on purpose?"
The mana in her hand flickered — a quick twitch, like she almost reached out and stopped herself.
"No," she murmured quickly. "I didn't mean— It's not your fault. I just…"
Her voice dropped. Her whole outline seemed to shrink, the glow of her aura drawing in, small and guarded. Like she was bracing for something.
"I'm sorry," she added, softer. "Forget I said anything."
That pulled me up short.
She never apologized in training.
"Hey," I said, stepping a little closer — close enough to feel the warmth of her mana brushing against mine. "You're not wrong. I've been off today."
Her glow eased slightly. Still pulled in, but not as tight. Not as brittle.
She nodded once — I felt the motion more than saw it. "Okay. Just… tell me if I get too sharp."
"You weren't."
A long pause settled between us.
Then:
"Again?" she asked, her voice low, warm around the edges.
I nodded.
But for the rest of the session, I noticed how she stayed just a step farther back than usual — and how her mana curled inward every time our hands got too close.
For the last six months, she'd been training me. Not as my bond. Not as a protector.
But as someone who knew what it meant to refine chaos into control.
⸻
Water magic had always slipped from me like oil off stone. Now it flowed — still not my best attribute, but sharper. Wind no longer cut my breath in half when I cast it. And metal…
Metal had become instinct.
I could feel it all around me. In the sky, — pulled from the smallest traces in the air, woven into knives, chains, walls. I didn't shape it like a mage.
I bent it like a limb.
But more than that, Salem and I had… changed.
Not in words.
Not in titles.
Just in the quiet moments. The way she leaned into me during breaks — forehead resting against my shoulder. The way her hand lingered at the small of my back after training. Her breath slow against my collarbone when she fell asleep near me, folded small as if she'd shrink to fit.
She was still confused by it.
Still afraid of wanting anything at all.
But she was learning. And I let her.
Because I didn't need her to be anything more.
Just here.
⸻
Ramon left at the start of winter.
He waited for me by the old bell tower — bag slung over one shoulder, arms crossed. I recognized him by the curve of his mana, strong and straight like stone beams driven into the ground.
"You leaving without saying goodbye?" I asked.
"Almost did," he admitted.
I walked to him, slow. Careful.
"You're joining?"
"Army prep track. If I make it through, I get my officer's crest by winter next year."
"I'll hold you to it."
His mana shifted — softening, just a little. "You've changed. You know that?"
"Better or worse?"
"Stronger. Scarier." A beat. "Kinder, too."
"You were always good at the hard parts. Try the soft ones this time."
He gave a low chuckle. "You're starting to sound like Julius."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
He hesitated. Then stepped forward.
I felt the motion — his outline rising and folding into mine, one arm pulling me close.
"I'll see you again," he said quietly.
"You better."
He didn't let go right away.
Neither did I.
⸻
The letters from Kate and Julius came every few months — short, clipped, usually signed with some joke about me being "famous now."
Tovin wrote the most.
Proud of every rank trial. Every meditation hour.
He'd taken my advice seriously.
And Salem… she never wrote anything down. But some nights she'd murmur questions into the quiet. Strange ones. Half-dreamed.
"Do people love because they want something?"
"What does comfort taste like?"
"Why do your hands feel safer than magic?"
I never had the perfect answers.
But I never pushed her away.
Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, I'd pull her beside me. Let her curl into my side, one hand tucked against my waist like it anchored her. And I'd just breathe with her.
She'd fall asleep fast like that.
Like she was still learning what it meant to be held and not hurt.
⸻
Now it was the beginning of summer.
The wind was warm.
The journey to the Tri-Continental Academy would start tomorrow.
My pack was ready. My staff rested by the door.
Salem stood near the window — barely more than a gold-pink silhouette against the dawn-threaded mana lines outside.
"You ready?" I asked.
Her mana stirred. "I think so."
"You nervous?"
"No."
Then, after a pause:
"But something in me feels like it's waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"I don't know," she said softly. "But it feels… warm. Like it's not dangerous."
I stepped up beside her. Reached for her hand. Held it.
She squeezed once. Not hard. Just enough.