Aerin's gaze lingered on Lara for a moment longer than necessary, her posture relaxed but alert, as if she were standing watch even now. The courtyard had grown quieter as evening deepened, voices fading into the stone and the soft hum of the academy settling in.
"I'll be waiting for you," Aerin said calmly. "Dinner. Your room."
It wasn't a question. It wasn't an order either. Just certainty.
Lara nodded at once. "I won't be long."
Aerin's eyes flicked briefly across the rest of them—Cyros, Taren, the twins—measuring without judgment. Then she turned and walked away, boots soft against the stone, disappearing back through the courtyard entrance she had come from.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The Sol had dipped lower, its glow turning warmer, gentler, stretching shadows that pooled beneath benches and along the courtyard walls. A faint breeze passed through, stirring loose strands of hair and rustling fabric. The academy felt suspended between day and night, activity and rest.
Silence settled where she had stood.
It was not an awkward silence, nor an uncomfortable one. It was the kind that arrived naturally after something meaningful had passed through, leaving people unsure how to step back into noise.
They remained seated, each of them suddenly occupied with something else. Taren stared at the sky as if measuring the Sol's descent. Lara folded her hands loosely in her lap, thumbs brushing together. Cyros rested his elbows on his knees, eyes unfocused, attention turned inward.
Only Kevin did not look away.
He continued to stare at the courtyard entrance, at the empty space where Aerin had been just moments before. His posture was stiff, shoulders drawn back, as if he had been caught mid-thought and forgotten to move on.
Gin noticed.
He leaned closer to his twin, voice low and amused. "Somebody's heart might have tripped."
Kevin blinked. Then his ears turned red.
"What?" Kevin said too quickly. "Don't be ridiculous."
Gin grinned, the silver trim of his jacket catching the fading light as he crossed his arms. "You didn't blink for a full ten seconds."
"I was thinking."
"About Patrol philosophy?"
Kevin sputtered. "About—no. That's not—"
Taren turned at the sound of raised voices, curiosity lighting his expression. "Oh? What's happening over there?"
Kevin's face flushed deeper. Without another word, he grabbed Gin by the sleeve and hauled him upright. "We're leaving. Right now."
Gin laughed as he was dragged away, boots scraping against stone. "Let me tell them—"
"No," Kevin hissed.
Their voices faded as they disappeared into the corridor, Gin's laughter echoing long after they were gone.
The courtyard felt emptier without them.
Taren exhaled a soft laugh and leaned back on his hands. "She's protective of you."
Lara looked up, startled, then nodded slowly. "She is."
The word carried weight. Not pride. Not burden. Something quieter.
"She's always been that way," Lara continued, her voice gentle. "Even when she doesn't mean to be."
She fell silent then, her gaze drifting to the place Aerin had vanished. For a moment, it seemed as though she were looking past the academy walls, past the Sol itself, into something distant and unresolved.
There was a question forming behind her eyes.
Should she say it?
Could she?
Trust was not something she gave lightly, despite how easily she smiled.
Cyros noticed the hesitation. He had been watching not Lara's face, but the way her fingers tightened together before relaxing again. The subtle tells of someone weighing a choice.
"You don't have to say anything," he said quietly.
Lara turned to him, surprised.
"If you don't want to," Cyros added, his tone unchanged. There was no pressure in it. No expectation. Just space.
He glanced at Taren.
Taren nodded immediately. "Yeah. We'll be seeing each other often anyway." He smiled, softer than usual, stripped of humor. "No rush."
Lara's lips curved slightly, not quite a smile yet. A breeze passed through the courtyard, lifting a few loose strands of her hair, carrying with it the warmth of the Sol and the faint scent of stone and evening air.
"Thank you," she said.
She took a breath, steadying herself.
"She's kind," Lara said at last. "More than people think. She just… learned early that being gentle doesn't always keep people safe."
Her fingers loosened, resting open on her lap.
"She acts tougher on the outside," Lara continued, her voice calm but threaded with something tender. "But that's not who she is at her core. She notices things. She remembers names. She stays awake when she thinks someone might need her."
Lara's eyes shone faintly in the Sol's light, not with tears, but with something close.
"Please be friends with her," she said quietly. "When she's comfortable… she'll tell you her story herself."
Taren's expression softened completely. He offered a reassuring smile, one that carried no teasing, no exaggeration. "More than happy to be friends with her," he said. Then he glanced at Cyros. "Right?"
Cyros nodded once.
Lara smiled then—bright and genuine, as if a small weight had finally been set down.
The Sol slipped lower still, its glow dimming into deeper gold as the courtyard lights flickered on one by one. The evening passed without incident, without drama, and yet something had shifted all the same.
A quiet promise had been made.
Morning arrived without spectacle.
The Sol rose as it always did, steady and unyielding, its light spilling into the Patrol wing through the narrow windows that lined the training hall. Cyros stood among the other Patrol students, the hum of low conversation filling the space as they waited.
Taren yawned loudly beside him. "I swear, if today involves running again, I might file a formal complaint against my legs."
Cyros said nothing.
Nagumo Sensei entered the hall precisely on time.
Conversation ceased instantly.
He stopped at the front, eyes sweeping across the room, measuring. There was something different about his presence today—not heavier, but sharper. Purposeful.
"Good morning," Nagumo said. "You've trained your bodies. You've tested your minds."
He paused.
"Today," he continued, "you'll learn what it means to apply both."
A ripple of attention moved through the room.
"Today," he said, "you will be assigned to your first ever investigation."
The room went still.