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I spot Aldric almost immediately farther with Ash Wing. His bandaged forearm rests across one knee while he listens to a second-year explaining something with exaggerated hand gestures. He laughs politely, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. No one else seems to notice. I do. It makes my chest tighten. No one here knows what happened inside Professor Neris' office. No one knows Aldric's blood remembers only fragments of Friday night. To everyone else he's simply the first-year who slipped walking back from the village. I almost envy them.

"Vaelith." I turn. Mara stands a few feet away, parchment tucked beneath one arm. "You made it."

"I wasn't planning on testing Chief Corvell's patience."

"I wouldn't recommend it." Something about the way she says it makes me wonder if she speaks from experience.

"Has everyone arrived?"

"Almost." Her eyes drift toward the path leading back to the Academy. "We're waiting on two second-years."

As if summoned by her words, the missing students appear between the trees a moment later, jogging just enough to make it obvious they know they're late. Mara glances toward the small silver watch hanging from her belt. "They're thirty-four seconds late."

I blink. "You counted?"

I always count." She folds the watch shut. "They'll wish I hadn't."

I decide not to ask what that means. The conversations around the clearing gradually fade. Not because anyone asks them to. Because someone has arrived. I don't hear Rhyven's footsteps. I simply notice everyone's attention shifting toward the narrow trail climbing from the lower training fields. He walks into the clearing carrying a worn leather notebook beneath one arm. Nothing about him is dramatic. No polished speech. No commanding gesture. Even so forty conversations end before he reaches the center of the clearing. He stops. Looks slowly around the Wing. His eyes move from student to student. Counting. Measuring. Making sure no one is missing. When his gaze reaches me, it doesn't linger. It passes over me exactly as it passes over everyone else. Satisfied, he opens the notebook. "Listen." No one moves. "For the remainder of the semester..." His voice is calm enough that several students instinctively lean closer to hear him. "Our schedule changes." A few uncertain glances pass between the first-years. Rhyven doesn't acknowledge them. "Beginning now. Sky Wing trains every weekday. Sometimes on the weekends. Five after class until eight." Silence.

A second-year near the front raises his hand. "Every day?" He asks.

"Yes."

"What if we already train outside Wing hours?"

"Adjust."

The student opens his mouth. Closes it again. Apparently deciding the conversation has already ended. Rhyven closes the notebook. "The first weeks of the semester exposed weaknesses." No one looks particularly pleased to hear that. "We correct them now." His gaze sweeps across us once more. "Physical endurance. Combat. Manifestation control. Tactical observation. Decision-making." He pauses. "They are no longer separate."

I think back to the First Trial. To Professor Vale forcing us to think while exhausted. To choosing between arriving first or helping someone else. Maybe they were never separate. We just didn't know it yet. A breeze stirs through the pines. Somewhere overhead, dragon wings beat slowly against the afternoon sky. Rhyven waits until the wind settles before continuing. "The Academy has documented irregular magical incidents." My pulse stumbles. Not because of what he says. Because he says it aloud. Not just to me. Not just inside Professor Neris' office. To Sky Wing. No details. No panic. Just...Enough. Several students straighten instinctively. "If your manifestation behaves differently." Rhyven starts, "Report it. If your magic fails. Report it. If it becomes unstable. Report it. If you experience unexplained disorientation. Report it." His voice never rises. It doesn't need to. "If another member of this Wing experiences any of those symptoms..." His eyes move deliberately across the clearing. "They are not left alone."

Something shifts among the students. The joking curiosity from earlier disappears. Whatever this is Chief Corvell considers it serious. That alone is enough to change the mood.

A first-year raises her hand. "Chief?" She says.

"Yes." Rhyven looks at her.

"Has this actually happened?"

"Yes." No explanation.

Another student speaks before she can. "Here?"

"Yes."

No one asks a third question. Then a second-year near one of the boulders folds his arms.

"Should we be worried?" The question hangs in the air.

Rhyven studies him for a long second before answering. "You should be prepared."

Not reassured. Prepared. The distinction lands harder than if he'd tried to comfort us. "We train for what we understand." He says. "We train harder for what we don't." No speeches. No dramatic warning. Just another fact. Another expectation. "Mara." She steps forward immediately. "You'll continue overseeing endurance rotations." He tells her.

"Yes, Chief." She nods.

"Training schedules will be posted before evening meal." He looks around the clearing. "Attendance is mandatory."

A groan threatens to rise somewhere behind me. One look from Mara is enough to silence it before it begins. I almost smile. Rhyven opens the notebook one final time. "Questions." Silence. Not because there aren't any. Because everyone understands that if he has answers he'll give them. If he doesn't he won't invent them.