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By the time the musicians pack away their instruments, the tavern has grown quieter. Not silent. The Place is never silent. But the sharp energy of the fights has softened into comfortable conversations and tired laughter. Students begin saying their goodbyes to villagers who have known many of them longer than the Academy has.

Old Bram waves from behind the counter as groups disappear up the narrow stone staircase. "Try not to wake Professor Vale."

"No promises." Someone answers.

The old man snorts. "I wasn't talking to the first-years."

Cool mountain air greets us the moment we step outside. The village sleeps beneath a blanket of mist. Lanterns glow warmly behind shuttered windows. Ahead, the winding trail back to the Academy is already crowded with students making the climb together. No formations. No Wings. No ranks. Just laughter drifting through the darkness.

Cassian falls into step beside me. "You survived your second Friday."

"I don't think 'survived' is the right word." I laugh. "No?"

"I actually enjoyed myself."

He gasps dramatically. "Gods."

"What?"

"You're becoming fun." He answers.

"I've always been fun."

Ahead of us, Rowan is enthusiastically explaining why she is, statistically speaking, an excellent gambler.

"You lost your first three games." Nyra reminds her.

"I was gathering information." Rowan answers.

The climb back toward the Academy is steeper than I remember. Or perhaps the warmth of the tavern made the mountain colder. The path narrows as it winds along the cliffs. Moonlight slips between drifting clouds, silvering the wet stone beneath our boots. Somewhere below us, a dragon calls into the darkness. Another answers. The sound echoes across the valley. Beautiful. Ancient.

Students naturally spread out along the trail. The faster walkers disappear ahead. Others linger behind. Caelen and the other Chief Wings Officers remain near the front, talking quietly among themselves. Rhyven walks several paces behind them beside Dax. Or rather Dax talks. Rhyven occasionally answers with a word or two. I can't hear the conversation. Only Dax's laughter.

"You know..." Nyra says softly beside me. "I'm glad I came tonight."

I glance toward her. "You almost didn't."

"I know." She smiles. "I would've regretted it."

"So would've we."

She looks down at the path. "I think..." She hesitates. "I'm beginning to understand why people love this place."

"The Place?"

"No."

She looks toward the Academy rising above us. "This."

My chest warms unexpectedly. "So am I."

It happens so quickly that, for a heartbeat, my mind refuses to understand what I'm seeing. A shout. Not frightened. Surprised. Someone near the middle of the trail slips. His boot skids across rain-slick stone. His balance disappears. He crashes sideways against the rocky edge of the path before tumbling to one knee. A sharp crack echoes through the night. The conversations stop instantly.

"Easy!" someone calls. "You alright?"

The student laughs through clenched teeth. "I'm fine." He tries to stand. Winces immediately. "Maybe not."

Blood runs freely from a long gash along his forearm where jagged stone tore through his sleeve. Nothing life-threatening. Just deep enough to bleed heavily. Students instinctively move toward him.