Deveil’s Night was over, and the Descent of the Veil brought its usual haunting beauty. But there wasn’t much time to dwell. A day later, we were back at it, training nonstop for the next week and a half. No one complained. We all knew why we were there.

Every night, we returned to the Council Chambers. Elio and I worked like a machine, steady input, refined output. Each binding cleaner than the last. The Stone Dragon and I worked well together, and the closer we worked, the more Orivian scowled. Elio just laughed. He understood enough to know Orivian was jealous, but that I could care less about it.

Instead, what mattered was reaching the pinnacle of our magic so we could rescue Halven. And with each attempt closer to the balance Isa and Veyn demanded, the closer we were to helping our friend.

And apparently, all of efforts had been enough.

Tonight, Isa stood on the dais and told us we had four days left for training.

Nonis 27.

That was when we would enter The Seal and try to get Halven back.

Four days, and I would be gone. I had already decided. I was not staying for the end of term. I didn’t care about final evaluations or term papers or some self-congratulatory closing ritual. Once Halven was safe, I would pack what little I owned and leave Nythral behind.

I wasn’t even sure if I’d go back to gather my mother. After all, I was now an adult, able to take care of myself. There was no need for her to keep running when she’d made friends here.

I was the reason she could never have roots, and now, I didn’t need to be that reason any longer. She could be happy here.

Besides, I had no idea where I would go. I just knew it had to be somewhere else. Somewhere that didn’t burn with reminders I didn’t want. Somewhere I could breathe without feeling like I was being watched.

I hadn’t seen Orivian since training ended tonight. Not really. He sat two rows behind me, sometimes near Lo, sometimes not. But I still felt him. The same way I always did. The bond tugged at the edges of my attention, and I shoved it back every time.

I told myself it was nothing. Just leftover magic. A mark that had nearly vanished. A mistake that had imprinted itself on the underside of my wrist and had been slowly fading since that night at the lake.

I hadn’t thought about the Emberglyph in weeks.

But that night, something changed.

I was alone in my room. My roommates had gone off in search of something fried and sweet from the kitchens. I stayed behind. I had work to finish, notes to finalize. It was quiet. No voices in the Common Room. But something made me look up.

Three slow knocks echoed through the quad’s main door.

I waited a breath, then another. No sound followed. I crossed the room and opened the door, expecting to find one of my quadmates doubled over in laughter for trying to spook me.

But the corridor was empty.

No one in either direction. Just the air.

And at my feet, a single object.

I bent and picked it up. Thin. Metallic. Cool to the touch. A slip of etched steel shaped like the same impossible scrap I had once stolen from Orivian’s coat. The same scrap that had burned its twin into both of our skin.

Except this one was safe. It wouldn’t burn another sigil into my wrist.

Folded around it was a note.

I unfolded it carefully, already knowing who this was from.

This isn’t about fate. It never was.

You said I’m not choosing you, but I have, every day. Even when I don’t know how.

I would still choose you, even if you never came back to me.

Not because I’m bound to you.

And I don’t want you bound to me because you are forced to be.

I never wanted you caged.

The last line was scrawled faster than the rest. A little sharper. As if his hand had trembled.

I held the paper. The token. The words.

Such pretty words.

I did not smile.

I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the shard of steel, resting it against my palm.

Then I turned my wrist over, almost without thinking.

The faint outline of the Emberglyph was still there. Gemina Flamma. Twin flames.

I hadn’t looked at it in weeks.

But tonight, the moment I touched the token, the mark pulsed. Soft and warm.

Just once.

Then faded again.

Such strange magic.

I swallowed hard and closed my hand around the token.

For the first time in weeks, the bond quieted. It startled me. Fated bonds didn’t go away, but maybe Orivian was finally giving me what I wanted, my freedom from him. Perhaps his resignation dulled the connection—that together, neither of us choosing the other helped to make life easier to exist without the constant pull.

And I wasn’t sure if that made me happy.

Or miserable.