Kaelith's laugh faded into the night as he stepped out after Lirien, the cottage door thudding shut behind him. The air hit him cool and sharp, carrying the faint tang of woodsmoke from the feast's dying fires. His boots scuffed the dirt path, kicking up little puffs of dust that glinted under the twin moons—one silver, one violet—hanging heavy above Talsara.
The spellbook stayed tucked under his arm, its edges pressing into his ribs, while the fox pendant bounced against his chest, a quiet tap with each stride. Lirien was already halfway to the hill, her braid a wild mess swinging behind her, her tunic streaked with crumbs she hadn't bothered to shake off.
"Come on, Kaelith!" she yelled, not looking back, her voice slicing through the stillness. "Stars won't wait forever!"
He smirked, picking up his pace just enough to keep her in sight. She didn't slow down—never did—bounding up the slope like it was a race he'd already lost. Eight years old, and she still moved like the world couldn't catch her. He felt older, though—thirty-four in his head, dragging Kazu's weight behind every step. The hill wasn't steep, but his legs ached anyway, a dull burn from dancing and running around at the feast. He didn't mind. It was good to feel something real.
Lirien hit the top first, flopping onto her back in the grass with a grunt. "Took you long enough," she said as he crested the rise, her arms sprawling out wide. She patted the ground beside her, not bothering to sit up. "Get down here. Sky's better this way."
He dropped next to her, easing the spellbook onto the grass—careful, like it might break—and lay back. The ground was damp, seeping through his tunic, but he didn't care. Above, the stars spilled across the black, a mess of white and blue dots that flickered like they were alive. The silver moon washed them in a cold glow, while the violet one smeared the edges with a haze he couldn't quite name. Kazu'd seen stars through Tokyo's smog, faint and far, but these—they pressed down, close enough to touch if he reached. He didn't. His hands stayed flat, fingers curling into the grass.
"Pretty, huh?" Lirien's voice was softer now, less sharp. She tilted her head, green eyes catching the light as she stared up.
"Yeah," he said, letting the word hang. "Pretty."
She didn't say anything for a bit, just breathed—loud, steady, like she was claiming the air. Kaelith listened, his own chest rising slower, syncing up without meaning to. The feast still echoed in his head—Veyra's warm grip, Talren's rough laugh, Seraphine's spellbook heavy with promise. Intermediate, she'd called him. Keep pushing. And then his own voice, loud in the cottage: Roxara Academy. Beat the sun. It'd felt right then, with everyone watching, but now, under this sky, it was a stone in his gut—big, jagged, too much.
"You're quiet," Lirien said, rolling onto her side. Her elbow dug into the grass, propping her head as she squinted at him. "What's rattling around in there?"
He kept his eyes on the stars, tracing a line between two bright ones. "Just thinking."
"About what?" She poked his arm, her finger sharp against his sleeve. "That mage school? Your big fancy plan?"
"Maybe." He shrugged, the pendant shifting against his chest. "It's… a lot."
She snorted, flopping back down with a huff. "You're such a worrier. Always chewing on something. Bet you'd overthink a puddle if it looked at you funny."
He shot her a glance, lips twitching. "And you'd just jump in it."
"Damn right." She grinned, teeth flashing, but it faded quick, her gaze drifting back up. "You'll do it, though. Whatever it is. You're Kaelith—you figure stuff out."
He wanted to laugh—tell her it wasn't that easy, that figuring stuff out hadn't saved Hiro, hadn't kept Kazu from rotting in that apartment. But her voice had that edge, the one she got when she meant it, and it stuck in his throat. "Hope so," he said instead, quiet enough the wind almost took it.
Lirien didn't hear, or didn't care. She stretched her arms up, fingers splaying like she could grab the sky. "Stars are better than books," she muttered. "No rules, no chants—just there."
He turned his head, watching her. Her face was lit soft by the moons, cheeks still flushed from the night, a smudge of dirt on her jaw she hadn't noticed. She looked… sure. Like the world made sense to her, even when it didn't to him. Kazu'd never had that—never had a Lirien dragging him out to see anything worth seeing. He'd had Hiro, once, loud and brash, pulling him to karaoke joints until that night on the roof. Rain. Slipping hands. A scream he couldn't unhear.
"You ever think about leaving?" Lirien's voice snapped him back, low and sudden.
He blinked, the stars blurring for a second. "What?"
"Leaving Talsara." She didn't look at him, just kept staring up. "You said Roxara. That's far, right?"
His gut twisted—not hard, just enough to notice. "Yeah. Far." He paused, grass prickling his palms. "Not yet, though. Takes time."