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First drill. Weapon loss. I perform well. Second. Ward coordination. Good. Third. Civilian movement. Lena makes the same mistake she made yesterday. I correct her. Fourth. Emergency command. Good.

Nobody mentions the deployment. Not during drills. That's the rule I create without saying it. For two hours, we work. That's enough.

At sixteen twenty, I see Rhyven. He's on the dragon grounds. Vyrael beside him. Equipment spread across two tables. Harness. Flight gear. Weapons. Medical pack. Emergency ward stones. Food. Water. Everything being inspected. Twice, probably.

I don't go over. He is working. So am I.

At seventeen, I finish training. At seventeen ten, I help Lena fix her stance. At seventeen twenty, I reorganize the response kits. At seventeen thirty-four, Nyra finds me counting bandages.

"You've counted those already."

"No."

"Yes." I look down. Forty-two. I have absolutely counted them already.

"I want to make sure."

Nyra sits on the table. "There are forty-two."

"I know."

"Because you counted them."

"Apparently." She watches me. I continue organizing. Not talking. Good.

After a while, she says: "Do you want me to say something?"

"No."

"Good." I look at her. She shrugs. "I didn't know what."

I smile. Tiny. "Excellent friendship."

"I try." She helps me organize. No discussion. Exactly what I need.

Dinner is strange. Not sad. Not yet. Too soon. People are making plans. Third-years discuss equipment. Fourth-years compare assignments. Professors move between tables. First-years whisper. Second-years look like they've suddenly aged three years.

Caelen sits beside me. Doesn't steal my coffee. That bothers me more than it should. So I push it toward him. He looks down. Then at me. "What."

"Take it."

"You'll complain."

"Obviously." He takes it. Good. Better.

Rhyven arrives late. Again. Sits across from Dax. Again. No map this time. A deployment packet. Different. He looks toward me once. I am talking to Cassian. I keep talking. I don't know what I'm saying. Something about cards. Maybe. Rhyven looks away.

After dinner, the Academy changes. Not physically. Everything is still there. But suddenly every hallway is full of preparation. Fourth-years moving equipment. Dragon Riders inspecting flight gear.

Weapon rooms open late. Medical supplies distributed. Ward specialists receiving field stones. Chiefs briefing deputies. Forty-eight hours. Less now.

I return to Room 304 at twenty-two eleven. Nyra is already there. She sits on her bed reading. Actually reading. Not pretending. I envy her. I change. Wash my face. Put my daggers on the desk. Check the sheath Rhyven fixed yesterday. Still perfect. Of course.

Across the hall, voices. Caelen. Rhyven. Low. Can't hear words. I don't try. I get into bed. Stare at the ceiling. Forty-eight hours. No. Less.

Yesterday, we sat outside until midnight. Cassian cheated at cards. Nyra threw bread at him. Dax threatened someone. Caelen stole my coffee. Rhyven laughed. I remember that.

I turn onto my side. Tomorrow they'll pack. Tomorrow they'll brief us. Tomorrow they'll make sure we know exactly what to do without them. Then the night after, they leave.