The forest trail ran quiet except for the crunch of wet leaves beneath their boots. The air still carried the smell of salt — the last trace of the coast they'd left behind that morning. Jayden walked a step ahead, hood drawn low, his thoughts fixed on the same picture that haunted every blink: his mother, Mira, pale under the hospital light, tubes stitched to her skin.
Askelad followed with his usual restless energy, one hand resting on the strap of his satchel. For a while, he said nothing — he'd learned that Jayden's silences weren't always invitations to fill.
But as they neared the main road, he spoke. "You sure about the academy? It's not exactly a hospital."
Jayden's gaze stayed on the horizon. "I'm not going there for treatment. I'm going to learn how to heal her myself."
"That's a tall order for a new student."
"I don't care how tall it is. As long as it's possible."
Askelad's smile was faint, but real. "You sound like me before I realized most tall orders come with taller prices."
Jayden didn't answer. His hand brushed the pouch that hung from his belt — the twin moonshine blades. Only thing he'd carried from the Trial's end. He'd told no one about the strange pulse he sometimes felt from it, the faint vibration that answered his heartbeat. Not Askelad, not the guards at tidecross. Some truths were better buried until he understood them himself.
The main road widened ahead, smooth and pale under the rising sun. Far in the distance, a collection of towers rose above the treeline — the Academy.
Askelad exhaled softly. "There it is. The city of headaches."
"You studied there?"
"For a while. Cartography division. Maps, records, border logic — the boring stuff that keeps the fancy divisions from walking off cliffs."
Jayden glanced sideways. "Then you'll show me around."
"That was the plan."
But a sudden whistle cut through the trees. Askelad stopped, frowned, and turned toward the sound. From the ridge above, a messenger bird circled, dropping something small that shimmered before hitting the ground — a sealed note, glowing faintly with coded script.
He crouched, cracked it open, and his face changed. "Damn it," he muttered. "The Circle just recalled me. There's been a collapse on the northern line — some barrier failure near the capital. If I don't show up in the next six hours, they'll blacklist my entire section."
Jayden blinked. "Can't they send someone else?"
"They could," Askelad said bitterly, "but they won't. I'm the idiot who drew the map for that sector. Guess I get to clean my own mess."
He turned to Jayden, more serious now. "You'll have to go the rest of the way alone. The Academy gates are about a half hour's walk from here. Just follow the main path until you see the fountain with the bronze wings — that's the registration hall."
Jayden hesitated. "And after that?"
"You sign up like everyone else. They'll take your name, background, reason for enrollment. Don't overthink it. Say your father was a fisherman — that's true — and that you want to study the healing division to help your mother. It's honest enough to pass."
Jayden nodded slowly.
Askelad studied him, something like worry flickering beneath his grin. "You've got that look again."
"What look?"
"The one that says you're carrying a secret heavier than your bag."
Jayden forced a smile. "Maybe I am. But I'll manage."
Askelad looked like he wanted to press, but didn't. Instead, he held out his hand. "Then this is where our road splits, friend."
Jayden shook it. "You'll be back?"
"Eventually," Askelad said, smirking faintly. "I'm hard to get rid of."
He adjusted his satchel, took a step back, then turned toward the ridge trail. "Keep your head down. The Academy's full of people who think they can read others — don't let them read you."
Jayden watched him go until the sound of his boots faded into the forest. For a long moment, he stood alone, wind brushing the edge of his cloak.
Then he turned and started walking toward the Academy.
The path broadened into a paved lane lined with lanterns that flickered awake as he passed. Students walked in groups — laughing, arguing, carrying boxes or scrolls — their chatter a strange mix of excitement and exhaustion.
At the end of the road, a wide arch rose from pale stone, carved with the words:
THE UNLOCKED ACADEMY OF HUMAN DEVELOPMENT AND CONTROL.
Beyond it stretched courtyards, dormitories, and towers stacked like thoughts on the edge of the sky.
Jayden took a slow breath and stepped forward. The guard barely looked up.
"Name?"
"Jayden Vale."
"Purpose?"
"Enrollment."
The guard slid him a form. "Sign there. Orientation starts tomorrow."
Jayden scrawled his name, handed it back, and stepped through the gate — just another student, another hopeful face in a sea of strangers.
No one knew what he carried inside him. No one suspected what he'd survived.
And for now, that was exactly how it needed to stay.