Nobody argued.
“Something is moving,” the wolf admitted. “We feel it in the roots.”
“Our elders feel it in the stone,” the orc added.
“Then we don’t bicker on the steps,” I said softly. “We compare notes privately and understand that unity will make us stronger. We all want the same thing here. We want to feel safe and live where we choose. That’s not what the Priestess wants.”
The wolf’s shoulders loosened. The orc uncrossed his arms.
A few of the witches exchanged glances, and Twobble scribbled something dramatically on his parchment.
I met Caleb’s eyes. He’d come up beside me without a sound and gave the smallest nod.
“We need to align,” I said. “But first, we have to set aside our differences.”
The wolf studied the orc for a long second. Then, grudgingly, “We’ll expand patrol together tonight.”
The orc inclined his head. “Agreed.”
I nodded and let out a deep breath.
The wolf still looked like he’d rather chew bark than agree with an orc, and the orc stood like the ground might betray him at any moment, but nobody had drawn blood.
And lately, that counted as progress.
A breeze slipped through the courtyard, carrying the scent of moss and woodsmoke. Somewhere inside the Academy, laughter rang out, followed by Stella telling someone not to stir a potion with a fork unless they wanted to lose their eyebrows.
Twobble sighed happily. “This place has everything. Snacks. Peril. It’s very well-rounded.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Because beyond the steps, the Wilds felt restless.
I watched the wolf’s ears flick toward town, and the orc lift his chin toward the same fall skies.
The ground pulsed faintly beneath my boots as the Academy answered with a deeper hum.
Something was coming, but it wouldn’t be loud and crashing. It would arrive quietly, intentionally, and slip into our way of life if we weren’t watching.
And that change from the Priestess would be scarier than anything.
Chapter Five
The banquet hall felt almost like a vacation, which was impressive considering two hours earlier, there had been an orc on the front steps and a shifter bristling at him while a witch was ready to use her wand, and Twobble tried to mediate with a tea menu.
Long tables stretched the length of the room, and chandeliers glowed softly. A few students lingered at the far end, speaking in low voices over cups of tea and half-eaten scones.
I had claimed a corner of one table with a small plate of bread, salami, and cheese, along with something Stella insisted was a “fortifying tea.” It tasted like honey and defiance.
A kitchen sprite zipped past my elbow, carrying a refill of cheese. It hovered midair, glanced at my plate, and dropped another slice onto my plate, even though I’d barely eaten any of it.
“Thank you,” I said as it zipped back toward the kitchen.
It paused mid-flight, spun in a delighted circle, and vanished through the swinging door.
Things should have felt normal, and after what happened on the steps, maybe even a little like progress.
