Sophie:I was listening in. That was very exciting.
Cane:I'm headed to Seven Tower. Meet you there?
Sophie:Sure.
The group made their way back to the Academy, trading notes and insights as they walked. By the time they reached Seven Tower, conversation had shifted into lazy banter. Cane trailed behind Fergis, boots heavy from training, legs already aching with the slow climb.
"I'll pick up a staff for Dhalia," Fergis said over his shoulder. "Think Clara needs a weapon too?"
"Yes. Something light. Backup for emergencies," Cane replied. "In case she ever needs to defend herself up close."
Fergis stopped mid-step, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. "Trap," he muttered. "Not sure where, but it's close."
Cane paused. "I don't feel anything."
Fergis stepped back—and instantly, a floor rune flared to life. The stone shimmered, turned to ice, and tilted sharply beneath them.
"SHIT—!" Fergis cursed as both of them lost balance, sliding straight toward the far wall.
"Reveal!" he barked, and the wall lit up—glowing with overlapping runes just as Cane grabbed Fergis's collar and plunged Starstrike into the floor to arrest their momentum.
They stopped inches from impact.
"Nice!" Fergis grinned, pumping a fist. "Let me find some footing—"
He reached for a nearby torch sconce and pulled himself upright.
Click.
Cane's eyes widened. "Fergis, no—!"
The torch dipped with an ominous thunk, and the rune beneath them flared.
The floor split open like a door and dropped them both straight to the second level.
They hit hard, a bone-jarring crunch—but there was no time to groan. Another set of runes ignited beneath them, and the floor tilted again, transforming into a glistening ice slide.
The outer wall vanished.
And then they were falling.
Poof.
A burst of white feathers exploded beneath them as they landed in the courtyard—soft, unharmed, and sprawled side-by-side.
A moment of stunned silence followed—then applause erupted from nearby students.
"I can't believe we survived that," Cane muttered, spitting feathers from his mouth.
"You were close to cracking that one," he added, reaching over.
Fergis accepted the hand and let Cane pull him to his feet. "We should really stop taking the stairs."
Cane unlocked his door, glancing back toward Fergis, who was still pulling feathers from his hair.
"We'll spend a few more days ironing out the kinks," Cane said. "Then we hit it."
Fergis nodded, fumbling with his key. "What's the timeline?"
"Two or three days from now," Cane decided, nudging his door open with a tired hip. "We're stocked on supplies. How're the horses?"
"Procured five from the stables," Fergis replied. "One extra, just in case."
"Smart," Cane said, waving him off as he stepped inside. His body felt like it had been through a forge—twice.
He kicked off his boots and flopped back on the bed with a groan.
"Better check the horseshoes tomorrow," he muttered to himself. "Proactive's always better than reactive."
A soft knock tapped on the door.
Sofie:It's me.
"It's open," Cane called, sitting up slightly.
Sofie stepped inside, slipping off her shoes before padding over and settling beside him. She leaned casually into his shoulder.
"You look tired."
"I am," Cane admitted. "Getting free of Clara's snare is brutal. Worth it, though—we're all better for it."
Sofie tilted her face up and gave him a light kiss. "Better now?"
He smiled. "Yes."
She nestled closer. "Ever been to the tavern in town?"
"I've walked past it. Heard the food's good."
"I used to stop by when I ran errands for my parents' shop," she said. "But I've never actually eaten there. If I'm in town, I just eat at home."
Cane closed his eyes with a sigh. "I'm starving. Let me rest for a bit, then we'll go."
Sofie traced idle circles on the bed with one finger. "I was meeting Mira later. Mind if I invite her?"
"Sure," Cane said without hesitation.
Cane:Special mission, Fergis. My room in ten minutes.
Fergis:Make it twenty. Finishing something up.
Cane:Sure.
Sofie smiled at him, soft and steady. The room was quiet—just the sound of breath and distant birds outside the window.
"Grab a table anywhere—I'll be with you in a bit."
The tall, middle-aged woman behind the counter barely glanced up, her eyes scanning the group with practiced ease.
Cane nodded toward an empty table near the window. "That one's perfect."
Mira slid in next to Fergis, her eyes already roaming the room. "I've never been in here before. Da says it's too rough for me."
Two dirt-smudged men approached—faces weathered, boots caked in mud. One of them limped slightly, the other wore a patched coat that looked older than the tavern itself.
Fergis:Here we go.
They stopped at the table. Cane met their gaze calmly.
"Evenin'," the taller one said, thrusting out a hand. "You're the academy lads who helped stop that Zuni raid, yeah?"
Cane shook his hand with an easy smile. "We just did our part. Felt right to help."
"I'm Rolf. This here's my brother, Dylex—we run a farm just past the ridge."
"Good to meet you both."
Cane's sharp eyes flicked down—Dylex's boot was crusted with dried blood, and he favored one leg. "You hurt, Dylex?"
The younger brother nodded sheepishly. His hair looked like it had been trimmed with a bowl and zero finesse. "Wolf bit me a few nights back. Got the thing, but not before it got me first."
Cane:You know where the tavern is, Dhalia?
Dhalia:Of course.
Clara:I know too!
Cane and Fergis exchanged a glance.
Cane:Bring your focal. Local guy needs some healing.
"Our friend's on her way," Fergis said aloud, smoothly. "She's a skilled healer. She can take care of that bite."
"For real?" Dylex's eyes lit up. "Been struggling to keep it clean. Workin' the field don't leave much time for rest."
The barmaid reappeared, wiping her hands on her apron. "I'm Bella. Two choices today. The special's mutton—spicy, not bad. I prefer the beef stew. For drinks, you've got cider or ale."
"Mutton and cider," Cane said without hesitation.
The others placed their orders as Bella moved on.
"This place is amazing," Sophie whispered, glancing around at the rough crowd scattered throughout the tavern. In one corner, three cloaked figures leaned close, whispering among themselves.
"Adventurers?" she guessed.
"Assassins," Fergis said deadpan.
"Deserters," Cane added with a smirk.
Mira covered a laugh. "They're merchants. Stopped by the lumberyard earlier—dropped off some new blades and tools."
Sophie giggled. "So, not assassins or deserters…"
"Not today," Fergis said with a shrug.
"They could be deserter merchants," Cane offered, not quite ready to concede.
"Or merchant assassins," Fergis countered.
Sophie and Mira exchanged a long-suffering sigh.
A short while later, Dhalia arrived with Clara in tow. The latter bounced toward the table with her usual cheer, grinning ear to ear.
Cane stood, dragging over two chairs. "You two eat yet? Menu's simple—mutton or beef stew."
"Mutton," they answered in unison.
"Two specials," Cane called to Bella when she looked over. Then, to Dhalia, "Let's check on Dylex before you sit down."
Dhalia nodded, following him to the nearby table where the farm brothers sat. The moment she approached, she grimaced.
"I can feel the wound," she said gently. "You've done a good job keeping it clean, but it's starting to turn. In a day or two, it would've festered."
Dylex's face paled. "I can't afford to be off my feet."
"Roll up your pant leg for me," Dhalia said, her tone kind and steady.
She placed a hand just above the wound, a soft golden glow spreading from her fingertips. Around the tavern, voices quieted as eyes turned toward the table.
Dhalia's brow furrowed in concentration, focusing on pulling out the infection and knitting skin and muscle back together.
After several long seconds, she opened her eyes and nodded. "There. Rest it a bit more, but the wound's closed and clean. You'll be fine."
Dylex stared in disbelief, then ducked his head repeatedly. "Thank you, miss. Thank you."
Back at their table, Cane leaned back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully. "You know… maybe you should start a clinic in town. You've been saying you want more healing practice."
Fergis raised his mug in agreement. "Seriously. I bet there are plenty of people who get hurt and just tough it out."
"My cousin chopped two fingers off last month at the lumberyard," Mira added casually. "Still shows up to work every day."
Dhalia winced. "Okay, yeah… maybe it's worth looking into. I could set a few hours each week, as long as it doesn't mess with our schedule."
Their food arrived then, cutting off further planning. For the next hour, the group ate and laughed freely, enjoying a rare evening out without assignments or tension.
When the bowls were scraped clean and the cider mugs nearly empty, Cane paid the bill and led the group out into the evening air. They walked Mira home first—dropping her off at the lumberyard with a few final laughs and waves—before heading back toward the Academy.
Halfway up the path, a lean courier intercepted them, breath misting in the chill night air.
"Message for Cane!" he called, placing a tightly sealed scroll in Cane's hands before disappearing down another street.