A fireball exploded in front of Aaron. Heat slammed into his skin, searing his lashes. He didn’t flinch. Just nodded—slow, mechanical approval. Still jumpier from the breakdown than I thought. Better get it under control before someone notices.

  The ranged combat facility resembled a modern gun range—if gun ranges were wrapped in sound-eliminating membranes. Even hearing protection had been provided.

  Bark and Blade followed them, their squads trailing at a respectful distance. The academy sprawled around them—towering spires, semicircular lecture halls, and landscapes as varied as its disciplines.

  The living tree and the woman wreathed in black and rust-red silk moved like silent specters behind them. Watching. Waiting. The weight of what was coming settled in Aaron’s gut.

  “Over the ten-day week, we have two lessons per day for our ten subjects,” Theon said as they approached the spires. “The rest of the time? Training, study, and dialogue assignments.”

  A unit of Thelmatai—neophyte disciples, always under a master—ran past in sharp military discipline. Epoptai, the academy elite, moved with purpose, either jogging cross-country or striding briskly.

  Rhea and Theon had linked their arms through his after his breakdown. He wasn’t sure if they were guiding him or grounding him. But it was working.

  Around them, pairs and small groups ran across the campus—movements disciplined, yet familiar. Strange to me as a Westerner, but in places like Afghanistan, this is normal. One tradition I don’t mind.

  The buildings encircling each spire specialized in different subfields of magic. Three spires for Abstract, four for Life, five for Elemental. At the heart of the academy, a great fountain burned—oil and alcohol feeding blue and orange flames.

  A stepwell of fire, set inside a small lake.

  The Founding Flame of the Academy. The academy’s soul. A shrine to the genius loci. Genius loci. Real spirit or just doctrine? Either way, people believed. The offerings said enough.

  “In the mornings, we rise with our squad for mental or physical conditioning,” Theon said, grimacing. “We’re supposed to train as a unit. But with your status…” He exhaled, nodding. “For now, we’ll keep our distance—until we figure out how to make this work.”

  Theon caught Aaron’s frown and pressed his lips into a thin line. Was this isolation deliberate or just common sense? “Unless you have another plan, Aaron.” He shifted uncomfortably.Do I? Do I even want to train with people who’d take any excuse to hurt me?

  “Your plan is fine.” Aaron hesitated. “I just… everyone here has an agenda. Feels like wading through a pit of vipers.”

  Rhea slid an arm around his shoulders. “The tallest pine of the Mother bears the full wrath of the Smith’s storms.”

  Aaron looked up, frowning. So… the tallest grass gets cut first? Interesting. They don’t usually care much about the Worldsmith. Oh, great. Another thing for my ever-growing research list. Yay.

  I just want it to stop spinning. Just for a day. Just for a damn minute. His throat tightened. “Never thought I’d be this close to snapping.”

  ‘YouNoFragile,’ whispered the voice like a silk thread tugging him upright.Aaron stiffened. Quetzy talk out here? Or only when I am about to unravel?

  ‘Yesss.’

  “What made you smile?” Rhea asked, her own lips curving in response. I should tell them. But if I do… they become targets. And if I don’t? I’m alone again. Shit.

  A light slap to the back of his head scattered his thoughts. “Now you’re frowning. What’s going on? Worried about her—your ex-mother?” Theon’s voice was gentle.

  As they passed through the academy gates, Aaron slowed. No more hiding. “I need to talk. Somewhere private—not the noise baths.”

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  “There are noise chambers all over campus,” Theon said. “Fabric on the floors and walls, plus a static source—that’s the minimum defense against mages.” He smirked. “True Bookworm Records? Runic seal chambers.”

  Aaron raised a brow.

  “Give me a year.” Theon snorted. “Until then, we work with what we’ve got. I can reserve a chamber if you think it’s necessary.”

  Aaron nodded.

  Despite the wealth of this district, the towering rainwalls—aligned to rainward—still dominated the skyline. The sideways rain must be tied to the habitat's rotation. I need to see this myself.

  The streets pulsed with people draped in reds, yellows, and oranges, though finer hues stood out among them. Aaron studied the shifting patterns, noticing that certain belts always took precedence, regardless of robe color. Amid the flowing colors and neatly ranked patterns, Aaron saw it—status woven into every thread.

  What do they indicate? I was too busy thinking earlier to catch the explanation.

  Theon caught his glance and gestured toward a passing group. “The belts matter. Slaves and Bonded have none. Favored and Freemen use rope. Citizens and Martials wear linen.” He pointed at a thick, knotted belt like those worn by martial artists. “Silk? That means mage or sorcerer.”

  Aaron nodded along. “Sorcerers… so what about witches, warlocks, or wizards?” Blank looks. Translation failure again.

  Theon hesitated. “Sorcerers master their craft by traveling the Amber Plane. If they reach the Dreaming Abyss, they ascend to Grandmaster rank and become mages. They specialize.”

  He shared a glance with Rhea.“Did you hear it again?”

  Aaron’s brows drew together. “Strange sound?”

  Rhea spoke up. “Sometimes when you talk… I hear a buzzing, then a word in another language. Wetch. Whar-Lug. Wessart.” I hear Herbalist, Priest, Mage behind those strange sounds. How do I get one sound but understand another word?

  Aaron furrowed his brow. I thought my translation issues were only one-way. Guess not. Grinning, he leaned in and put on his best wannabe gangster voice. “Yo bruh, chill your panties. Imma gonna be gettin’ da homies from da hood.”

  Theon blinked. “What did you just say?”

  “My divine language guide glitches sometimes. What did you hear?”

  Theon hesitated, then recited stiffly, “Oh, noble brethren, restrain your undergarments! I shall assemble the camaraderie of the urban slums!”

  He shook his head. “It kept shuddering. And I heard even weirder words.”

  Aaron snorted. “Maybe I should complain to the Watcher. See if I can get a replacement.”

  He remembered how the sage had addressed the Watcher in the medallion ceremony. Aaron glanced skyward, his lips twitching. Not quite a smile. Go on. Poke the sleeping god. Real smart, Aaron.

  “Maybe I should actually try it,” he muttered. “Just to see what happens.” He smiled to himself. Maybe I can make them appear. Inconveniently for my enemies.

  He raised his voice, half-mocking, half-curious. “Oh, Watcher of the Weaver, hear and witness, I summ—”

  The world disappeared in a flash of pain. Air gone. Body crumpling. Rhea’s fist hit like a sledgehammer. A heartbeat later, everything warped. Sound twisted. Cinnamon and vanilla clashed in his nose. Then the screams started. He doubled over, gasping.

  Curled on the ground, he heard it—a springy, popping sound, like someone stepping on bubble wrap. Then came the scent. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Back and forth, the smells flipped, faster and faster.

  Screams split the air. Some ran. Others dropped, praying. The pressure mounted. The popping deepened.

  Then, as suddenly as it came, it receded. The wind stilled. The scent lingered like dogshit on a shoe. Then the metallic snap of weapons brought Aaron back.

  Bark and Blade stood over him. One squad had guns and pikes locked onto Rhea. The other had formed a tight defensive cordon.

  “You attacked the Champion,” Bark said, voice even.

  Rhea’s tone matched his. “I saved his life. He was invoking a Watcher as a joke. We do not need revival complications.”

  Aaron lay still for a moment, the pavement cool against his skin. Around him, prayers echoed like gunfire. Someone wept. He pushed himself up, breath shaking. That could’ve gone so much worse. He swallowed hard. Yeah… I fucked up.

  Aaron looked up at Rhea and murmured, “Thanks for saving me. I owe you.”

  She smirked. “As if that’s new.”

  Theon sighed, rubbing his temples. “You do keep track, right?” Aaron’s breath came shallow. Almost summoned a god in a crowd. Rhea stopped me. I owe her more than thanks.

  He forced a smirk, though his hands still twitched. “I stopped counting after we met Erai.” His face darkened.

  Bark straightened. “We will escort you under close protection. Where to?”

  “To the restaurant of Master Kaisos, Magister,” Rhea answered. “We are to meet his mother.”

  Bark snapped out orders. The troops tightened into formation.Blade vanished into the flow of pedestrians, her wraithsuit blending seamlessly into the shifting sea of robes.

  They walked on, Aaron’s throat dryed, every step pulling him closer to something he wasn’t ready for.

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