In the huge, wide-open foyer of Westwind Academy, Headmaster Nise left Kon to watch over his fellow students. Groundsmaster Hazen was supposed to meet them here, but for some unforeseen reason, their next professor was running late. Without further explanation, the Headmaster departed up the stairs along the northern wall, quietly mumbling to Lucid, who stood in the kaleidoscope of colors that swirled upon his mirror-lensed glasses. Thanks to the proximity of Kon’s fae, he caught the hushed words ‘poisoned avokados’ while she flew between the colorful banners that hung from the ceiling.

Kon pretended like he didn’t hear anything, instead staring at the unique tapestries representing hundreds of graduates and their fae. Someday, every one of his peers would have a banner here too. Despite not yet finding the best name for his soulbound companion, Kon found himself imagining their own banner’s pattern and color scheme.

It’ll need to be silver and gold, he mused, watching the orb of coiled lute strings twinkle like a star. Music notes will be a necessity, he thought, prompting her to chime softly, lighting sparks of magic that burst into fading quarter notes. We could even write a song and inscribe it on bars. Would you like that?

In response, his fae began to sing a quiet composition of drum beats and interchanging flute melodies. None of them were original sounds, but harmonized echoes of songs they had played yesterday, when testing the instruments purchased for Kon’s class. His fae’s improvised tune danced visibly across the huge chamber, making the emerald architecture gleam brighter in her musical light.

With the Headmaster out of sight and the silence broken, Kon’s peers began speaking and splitting apart. Lili, Ora, and Dowen talked of taking a nap while moving toward one of the pillars that held up the entirety of Westwind Academy. A ring of couches with golden silk cushions surrounded each cylinder of carved emerald, offering comfort for weary visitors.

According to Lafer, the Academy’s ground floor was designed to hold every citizen of Zephyr’s Cradle. In dire emergencies, it would be a safe place for them to hide, protected by Westwind’s sturdy walls and resident Seers. For important announcements, a stage lay on the furthest side of the room — opposite the eastern gate that opened into the valley — with a large stretch of padded rugs for observers to sit on. Kon and the other students lingered there now, near the locked hatch that prevented entry into the depths of Professor Meir’s underground laboratory.

Rej and Gaj suddenly began arguing, and with the padded rugs beneath them, it didn’t take long for them to start wrestling. The stockier twin dragged his brother to the floor while they desperately fought to control each other’s limbs. The statuesque fae, Rugged, wandered over to Grit to join her in refereeing while Kon, Wilm, and Morus took a step back. Each of them rolled their eyes, even as they observed.

“Should we stop them?” Kon asked.

“No need,” said Morus in a matter-of-fact tone.

Wilm clicked his tongue in agreement. “Don’t worry. They’ll tire themselves out soon.”

Kon nodded, shifting his attention to the trio. Lili was the first to sit down on the couch. Leach slid around to her back, exposing her needle-pricked stomach, allowing her to fold her legs over her lap and lean into her fae. With a flick of Lili’s wrist, she cued Dowen to unstrap his backsack and use it as a pillow to lay on. Ora stood over them both, crossing her arms and casting her friends in her shadow. At once, the trio closed their eyes.

Even on her feet, the giantess nodded off. Her grinding snore pervaded the foyer soon after, drowning out the magical accompaniment of Kon’s fae. Though Ora’s friends seemed accustomed to sleeping through it, the sound drew the other students’ attention, including the twins on the floor. Rej and Gaj let go and rolled away from each other, panting and huffing as they rose. Surprisingly, despite his muscular physique, the stockier twin had more trouble catching his breath than his lankier brother. Kon recalled his fae to magically tune Ora’s snoring out of earshot.

“That looks like a good idea,” said Gaj, his gaze fixated on an empty couch near the southern wall. He met eyes with Rej, shared a wry grin, then immediately took off running. Gaj’s longer stride allowed him to gain the lead with ease.

Grit mumbled something about children to Rugged, then soared after her Seer as a cloud of marble dust. Rej waved her on, wordlessly ordering her to cut off his brother’s advance. At first reluctant, the fae’s countless particulates flew on to form a razor-sharp wall between Gaj and the pillar.

The boy didn’t seem the least bit daunted. With his fae — the spinning orb of dark sand — clutched in one hand, Gaj held her forward, then crushed her by closing his fist. Thousands of small black grains exploded between the seams of his fingers, spreading over his entire body and hardening into gravelly armor. In a matter of seconds, the boy was encased in a buff suit of obsidian that put Rugged’s muscular stone body to shame.

Rej was apparently stunned by the development, sliding to a halt as his twin leaped toward the razor-sharp wall. Grit’s particulates scattered before Gaj and his fae could reach her, perhaps uncertain what might happen if they collided, then coalesced into a lithe girl nearby. The specks that composed her face shifted in amazement, her eyes growing wide and jaw dropping open. Both Rej and his fae simply stared in silence.

Gaj’s leap was powerful enough to propel him into the pillar. His gravelly armor seemed to disintegrate the moment before impact, leaving the boy to smack into the emerald face-first without the protection of his fae. Though Gaj yelped in pain, he appeared to land in a deliberate position, one hand propping up his head as he faced them, the other reaching out with an open palm to collect his fae’s matter. Slowly, she returned to her usual state. Gaj wore a proud grin as he stared into the spinning orb of black sand.

“You did it!” exclaimed Rej, his voice echoing in the huge chamber. “You finally named her!” Kon should have been just as stunned, but all he thought about was how perfect the foyer’s acoustics would be for a concert.

“I did,” Gaj replied cheerfully. “I couldn’t have beat Lili and Leach otherwise. Named her something better, too— no offense, Grit.”

“None taken,” Grit laughed. Tiny pieces of marble ran down her face like tears. “I don’t care what her name is. I finally have a sister. Can she talk for herself yet? Does she take any other shapes?”

“Good questions,” said Gaj. He slid over to the edge of the couch, then sat up and lifted his fae. “What do you think?” The spinning orb of sand made no sounds, though Gaj nodded like she was transmitting her thoughts. After a moment of consideration, he smiled ear-to-ear, then crushed his fae again.

This time, the gravelly armor took shape beside him, looking no different than when she adorned Gaj’s body. As a result, the fae seemed like a buffer version of him, only faceless. The open visor of her helm was completely hollow.

“Gritty is still figuring things out,” Gaj admitted, sighing with a faltering grin. “She hasn’t learned how to look or talk yet. Even moving is hard without us being paired. But she wants me to tell you that she’s trying her absolute best. Right now, she would like nothing more than to hug her sister. And just so you know, you won’t be able to harm her. Her body is invincible.”

Grit practically squealed with joy. Along with Rej, they ran to embrace their siblings. “You named her Gritty?” the stockier twin laughed, jumping on top of Gaj and crawling around his back to put him in a headlock. “That’s what you call a better name?” Kon could almost feel Rej’s knuckles digging into his brother’s scalp.

Gaj chuckled, struggling to break free. “Two letters better!” he exclaimed, then elbowed Rej in his gut, using the recoil to slip out of his grasp. The lankier twin flipped his brother over, hooked Rej’s ankles with his knees, then pulled him back into a rear choke. Beside them, Grit wrapped Gritty in her arms, then helped lift her sister into the air. While Rej and Gaj fought, their fae simply floated and bounced around excitedly.

Meanwhile, Kon, Wilm, Rugged, and the invisible Morus watched this all transpire, utterly silent and still. They were all surprised and uncertain of how to react.

Perhaps out of pride, Lili had failed to mention how Gaj had triumphed in the labyrinth, and it seemed both Headmaster Nise and Phantom were happy to keep the naming of his fae a secret. From what little Kon knew about Gaj, he was probably waiting for a dramatic moment to show off. Well, you got it, he thought with a smile. It didn’t take long for that to falter, however, as Kon remembered his own reluctance about naming his fae.

“Gritty,” Morus said, laughing under his breath. Despite being cloaked by his fae, each individual hair moved when he swept his fringe with a blurry hand. “So he chickened out after all. Professor Meir is going to be disappointed to learn Gaj didn’t name her Grit too.”

“I’m personally glad,” Rugged grumbled tiredly. “One Grit is irritating enough.”

“I’m glad too,” Wilm added gruffly. “I heard that fae who share a name are driven to consume the other, and that it’s just a matter of time until the Seers start fighting to the death.”

“That’s just a myth,” scoffed Morus. “Same-named fae occur so rarely, and the few cases in history that were recorded too poorly to confirm it. Professor Meir’s research could have been enlightening in that regard. It’s too bad Gaj wasn’t braver.”

“Lafer told me a little about this subject,” Kon chimed in. “She mentioned that fae who share a name access the same well of power for their magic, and that makes both of them weaker. Was that a myth too?”

“That isn’t, no. One of the few recorded cases from the Gilded Era involved a fairly popular Lord and one his fans. The Lord was a Seer, like all Lords were back then, and with his fae, he would personally deliver ‘miracles’ to his roost’s clinics and orphanages, shaping light to entertain the sick or parentless children, uplifting their spirits to ease their pain and suffering. Six years later, one of the boys that was young enough to speak with the Lord’s fae regained his sight, and without thinking about the consequences, he named his fae after her, then fled to the Lord’s castle with hopes of getting adopted or granted apprenticeship. Instead, he was summarily executed for treason. The official death sentence describes how the Lord’s weakened fae nearly cost him his life. The Lord was apparently deathly ill, and he could not allow a reckless child to undermine his ability to rule.”

“That’s horrible,” Wilm sighed. “You really know a lot, Morus.”

“Indeed,” grunted Rugged. “I often wonder how so much information can be crammed in a head so tiny.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Morus laughed, though his voice rang out hollow. Completely empty of joy.

“I’m assuming the Lord was less popular after that?” Kon asked.

“Not really. After consuming the boy’s fae, the Lord’s became significantly more powerful. As a result, they were able to perform stronger miracles, curing illnesses and healing injuries entirely. People swept the affair under the rug. In no time at all, the sick orphan boy was forgotten. By the time the Lord wrote his last diary entry three decades later, he expressed guilt over the sin he committed in desperation, and terrible sadness that he couldn’t remember the victim’s name. The Lord never bothered to write it on the official death sentence.”

“Horrible,” Wilm echoed achingly. Rugged grunted hushed affirmation.

“Let’s switch to a new topic,” Kon suggested. “Something less…”

“Depressing?” Morus tried, quickly prompting a nod.

“What about your fae, Kon?” asked Rugged. “Have you thought about what you’ll name her?”

Wilm nodded beside the muscular statue, their stern faces indistinguishable, save for the fact that one was made of flesh and the other stone. “I’ve been wondering about that too.”

“I have thought about it, but probably not as much as I could. Lafer told me she felt a ‘click’ in her soul the first time she heard the word vigor, so I’ve tried writing every musical term I can think of in my Seer Manua. None of them felt right, though. I have yet to figure out what’s missing. If I’m honest, I might have been avoiding it.”

“Rugged didn’t click for me,” said Wilm. “He was very different before I named him. The complete opposite of stone, in fact."

“I don’t like to talk about it,” added Rugged, crossing his rigid arms over his muscular chest.

Wilm smiled fondly at his fae’s interruption. “The specifics don’t matter, anyway. My point is, you shouldn’t feel limited to names that seem obvious. In the end, we can name our fae anything and they’ll be happy. So long as our intentions are pure, Fate will reward us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m certain music is related. The Headmaster gave me three weeks to decide, and Lucid assured me that no matter what, I’ll choose wisely. Still… after hearing that story, I can’t help but worry about naming my fae something that’s already been taken. Does there happen to be a book in the library that’s up-to-date with living fae?”

“Unfortunately no,” sighed Morus. “We have compendiums about fae across history, divided by the eras and academies they hailed from, but none of them are current as of the last thirty years. The Headmasters are responsible for inscribing them, however, so it’s possible Lucid could provide you with a list.”

“I’ll have to ask next time I have the chance. Do you think you could show me those compendiums tonight, during our tutoring session? It might be good to read about more Seers from the past.”

Morus gazed up at Kon and beamed a smile. “I’ve been meaning to look through them again for inspiration. Consider it done with no extra charge.” Kon gave a wide grin back.

“I’m beginning to get worried,” said Wilm. “Groundmaster Hazen is always a few minutes late, but we’ve been here for at least ten already. What could possibly be taking him so long?”

Kon remained silent. If the students were meant to know, the Headmaster would have told them directly.

“You know, don’t you?” asked Morus. The boy was much too observant. He must have noticed a shift in Kon’s expression.

“Not exactly…” he tried.

“Your fae heard something,” said Rugged confidently.

Kon didn’t want to lie. “I try to keep her from eavesdropping, but sometimes she moves toward voices without thinking, leaving me to catch a few words. In this case, I only heard two. But I don’t think it’s my information to share.”

“You can trust us,” Wilm replied, grinning as he reassured Kon with a pat of his shoulder. Morus’ fae pulled away from his face to reveal pleading eyes and pouting lips. Rugged crossed his arms behind his back and bowed slightly out of respect.

“If I tell you, do you promise not to make a big deal out of it?” All three of his companions nodded eagerly, prompting Kon to sigh and glance at his fae. “All I heard was ‘poisoned avokados,’ okay? I doubt it’s a big deal, but—”

“—Why would someone want to poison his avokados?” interrupted Wilm. “Aren’t they supposed to be extinct?”

“Near extinct,” Morus corrected. “The last of them thrive solely in Vaska Elek, making them a particularly expensive delicacy. It’s a miracle Groundsmaster Hazen got them to grow in this climate without Lush’s help.”

“Could it have been an assassination attempt?” asked Rugged.

“I doubt it,” Morus replied curtly, though he did tap his chin with a finger in consideration, then froze completely. Before his eyes could vanish, Kon caught a glimpse of shock. The boy had come to a realization.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “It wasn’t an assassination attempt. Right?”

“Right,” Morus uttered softly. Without another word, he turned and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s none of our business, anyway,” he tried, as if suddenly disinterested in the conversation.

“You figure out who did it, didn’t you?” Wilm asked eagerly. “If you know, you have to tell us.”

“I don’t know for sure,” Morus began, spinning and pointing a finger. “But if you consider a motive other than murder, there is a clear suspect. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not at all,” grumbled Rugged. Even Kon nodded with Wilm.

Morus frowned, dropping his pointed finger. With both hands resting on his sides, he went still enough to disappear completely. Then, his chest blurred as he took a deep breath. “Think about it,” he said, adopting a voice that befitted a much older professor. “Who do we all know has the means, motive, and opportunity to commit such a crime? In Kolod Vor, Regent Ferona and her fae, Justice, have repeatedly proven that if a suspect demonstrates all three, they’re guaranteed to be the culprit. Am I speaking gibberish here, or do you see where I’m going?”

Kon fluttered his eyes in confusion.

“No, I get it,” said Wilm. “Crimes don’t happen for no reason. For a person to sin, they need to justify it to themselves somehow, and they need to have the ability to commit it. What I don’t get is, why poison avokados, of all things? What could someone possibly gain from that?”

Morus nodded. “That’s where the motive comes in. Who do we know that comes from Vaska Elek, and has access to Westwind Academy?”

“You can’t be serious,” Wilm chuckled, joining Rugged’s hearty laugh. “As much as Armsmaster Topek likes pranks, there’s no way he’d poison one of the Groundsmaster’s plants.”

“Not Armsmaster Topek,” grumbled Morus. “There’s another Seer from Vaska Elek. Think… smaller.”

Kon finally got it. “You’re talking about Saiet?”

Morus gave him a thumbs up, inspiring Kon’s fae to ding twice like a bell.

“Keep it down!” Ora shouted across the room. Her powerful voice echoed throughout the huge foyer, reaching the distant silhouettes of the guards and making one jump in the light of the gate. “We’re trying to nap here!” Kon was surprised she managed to sleep through the twin’s roughhousing, only to awaken to his fae’s ringing.

“Sorry!” he yelled back, then sent his fae to surround the trio’s pillar with a shimmering bubble of silence. The musical orb did the same thing for Rej and Gaj, though both were already fast asleep, the lankier twin’s arm still around his brother’s neck. Grit and Gritty floated above them, looking down on their Seers protectively, oblivious to the world around them.

Once Kon’s fae was finished, he looked at the fading Morus. “You think Saiet did it?” he asked, voice low for habit’s sake. “What motive could he possibly have?”

“Well, his father, Count Saiet the Third, owns a failing avokado plantation. Saiet the Fourth is the Barracks Officer today, which means he needs to conduct roves every few hours, which could take him to the Groundsmaster’s gardens. As the heir to a failing plantation, seeing avokados growing in these mountains could easily inspire some anger.”

“Means, motive, and opportunity,” Wilm repeated. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Kon wasn’t so quick to accept Morus’ theory. “Those are just assumptions. I’m not exactly familiar with roostfolk law, but I know I’ve read someone can’t be proven guilty without inadmissible proof.”

“That’s why I’m calling him a suspect. If there’s proof to be found, I’m sure Headmaster Nise and Lucid will find it soon.”

“Where could Saiet get poison, anyway?” asked Wilm. “I’m friends with most of the local guards. Zephyr’s Shields would never allow deadly contraband into the Cradle.”

“While explicit poisons are illegal, pesticides in large amounts can be toxic for plantlife. With Saiet’s clout and plumes, he could have purchased enough from the Farmer’s Marker in the Sunny District, no questions asked. That’s my best guess for the murder weapon.”

“More assumptions,” Kon interrupted. “I don’t believe it. Lafer has told me about Saiet’s not-so-great reputation, but I spoke with him this morning, and thanks to my fae’s magic, we’re fairly good at reading people. Neither of us got the impression he would do something like this.”

Morus’ gaze settled on the northern wall, his eyes slowly climbing the stairs upward. “Whatever the truth may be, we’ll probably find out soon. The man of the hour is finally here.”

Groundsmaster Hazen had begun descending into the foyer, assisted down the numerous carved steps by his fae. Like the first time they met, Lush took the shape of a slender tree with limbs of woven roots and branches, her eyes and lips formed of crystallized sap, with vibrant flowers blooming among the leaves of her bushy hair. In comparison, the Groundsmaster looked haggard in a pair of wrinkled overalls, his scraggly hair disheveled, and his bald spot glinting with sweat. Even with help of his fae, the Seer panted heavily. Kon couldn’t blame him— without Vigor’s aura, navigating the academy’s stairs was exhausting.

“It’s time to wake up!” Kon shouted, sending his fae to dismiss her bubbles of silence. “Groundsmaster Hazen is here!”

Every student but Gaj stirred awake. Rej slapped his brother’s face until he roused, then rushed them both up to their feet. Ora glowered at Kon, then offered Lili a hand. Dowen slinked off the couch, strapped on his backsack, and waited for his leader to rise with the giantess’s help. Lili’s back straightened as Leach slid over her stomach. With a grin and a wave, Kon led them all to meet their professor at the foot of the stairs.

“Good morning, class!” the Groundsmaster shouted, his tone deceptively jovial with a sour hint of pain. “I’m sorry for my tardiness, however, this time it’s for a good reason. But now is not the time for fretting over bad feelings, for the good farmhands of Zephyr’s Cradle need our help. Follow close behind me, and we can finally put those cursed avokados to rest.”

“Cursed avokados?” asked Lili, her eyes squinted in suspicion. The question elicited a few other students' reactions, including a well-acted look of surprise from Wilm. Morus visibly perked up, obviously curious even while blurry.

“Indeed. That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

Lush’s voice rustled like wind caressing leaves. “Don’t mind him. My Seer is just being dramatic.”

“Am not!” the bleary-eyed professor insisted. “Animized emerald preserves natural life, and Zephyr’s constant flow of magic ensures the Academy’s walls are always glowing. My avokados couldn’t have rotted so thoroughly unless they were cursed by something terrible.”

“You don’t think someone poisoned them on purpose?” asked Morus.

“I don’t. Why on Tairn would anyone want to do that? Besides, I kept them locked in my office, right next to the window. No one but myself has a key, and our beloved patron Spirit would surely notice if someone managed to sneak in.”

Kon wasn’t so certain. Their ‘beloved patron spirit’ had done little to stop Dowen from scaling the Academy’s walls, unimpeded and unsupervised.

Surprisingly, it was the same boy who spoke up next. “That’s not true, is it? The Barracks Officer should have a key to every office.” Though Dowen wasn’t old enough to serve duty, he apparently knew that much. The self-proclaimed rogue reached the same conclusion as Morus just as quickly.

Lili glowered at Dowen sharply, making him retreat a step back. “Definitely cursed,” she hissed. Lafer once mentioned the former Eastend Academy students were fairly tight-knit. If Saiet was responsible, Lili was unwilling to let Dowen rat him out.

While Groundsmaster Hazen nodded eagerly, Lush eased him down the last step and frowned. “No matter the cause, our Headmaster assigned Lafer and Vigor to investigate. In the meantime, it’s our job to focus on the crops we can save in Zephyr’s Cradle.” With her arms still tangled around her Seer’s back, the fae leaned in to speak in his ear. “Please, Hazen. You need to let them go.”

At least one member of the pair was sensible. Finally, their class was moving toward the distant gate. Lush continued to pull the Groundsmaster along while the students clumped into a group several feet behind them. Everyone gathered close to whisper their own theories.

“I think Zephyr did it,” tried Gaj. “Saiet might be clever and sneaky, but he never uses those skills for mischief. Noblefolk are way too lazy. Zephyr, however? I bet she used her wind to suffocate them.”

“I think you’re an idiot,” Rej replied dryly. “Why would Zephyr want to kill the Groundsmaster’s avakados?”

“Hazen is always polluting the air, isn’t he? If Zephyr killed his shia plants, he would just find more in the Cradle. But killing his weird, rare fruit? That sends a message.”

Morus stifled a chuckle, his face blurring as he struggled to hold it in. After a moment, he burst out laughing. The effect was infectious. Even Ora and Lili joined in from the sidelines, Rugged’s own chuckles sounding like boulders tumbling down the side of a cliff. Kon’s fae echoed his own laughter, making his voice among the loudest.

“What?” Gaj exclaimed. His cheeks flushed a bright red while his eyes darted between their faces.

Rugged stopped chuckling. “I don’t agree with Rej often, but in this case, he’s right. You’re an idiot, Gaj.”

“If anyone sounds like they’ve been smoking, it’s you,” added Dowen, inspiring more laughter from his friends.

Morus spoke up in confidence. “If you want to debate it, your theory has one glaring hole. Kon’s fae heard the Headmaster mention they were poisoned. Most likely by pesticides, which can be purchased in the Sunny District we’re about to visit. One of Fate’s Commandments is We Shall Not Take, so Zephyr would never steal, and she doesn’t use money. But if you want to know who did it, you just need to ask the Farmer’s Market for their ledgers. The culprit’s name will surely be on there. Mystery solved.”

“I’ve officially changed my mind,” Gaj grunted. “Morus knows way too much, which can only mean he’s guilty. With his fae, he could sneak into Hazen’s office all invisible-like, and he could steal the pestiwhatevers to cover his tracks. How’s that for a theory?”

“Just quit it,” Rej chuckled, patting his brother on his back. “You’re only proving Dowen’s point. Say any more, and you risk sounding like a lunatic.”

Seeing everyone nodding in agreement, Gaj threw his arms up in defeat.

“Let’s just leave the speculation to Lafer and Vigor,” said Kon, ending the conversation. The Groundsmaster had reached the gate and was speaking with the guards, so he pointed, sending his fae to listen. “The guards want us to show our identifications.”

“Seriously?” Dowen asked. “Why?”

“Is that unusual?”

Wilm clicked his tongue. “Professors are technically allowed to bring guests in and students out on a whim, but our local guards’ handbook says otherwise. It’s severely outdated, but the Officers have yet to write a new one, claiming the laws written by the original Headmaster were absolute. It normally doesn’t cause us problems, but one Corporal in particular is a stickler for the rules.”

At that very moment, Kon realized which guard was barking orders at his companion. Saiet’s friend, Ulen, was barely recognizable in his stiff military armor, the upper half of his head hidden beneath a low-worn metal cap. A gilded rope was tied around his bicep; the award that Lafer mentioned was granted to him for some battle he fought in. The little Kon could see of his face was a stern frown and beak-like nose. Ulen was looking down on the shorter Groundsmaster with arms folded over his polearm; a halbird, judging by its wing-shaped blade.

“I hate to say it,” mumbled Dowen, “but I don’t have my I.D. on me.”

“You’re kidding,” Lili exclaimed, slipping her own identification out of a trouser pocket. “Of the few things you don’t carry in your bag, your I.D. is one of them?”

“Nope!” he said, laughing. Lili smacked the back of his head with her metal card, inciting a loud yelp. “I didn’t think I would need it!” Dowen continued desperately. “It’s not like I’m allowed to leave the Academy anyway.”

Kon cleared his throat, drawing the boy’s gaze. “Remember the conversation we had yesterday? Send your fae to grab it, and please ask her to do it fast.”

Dowen froze at his stern tone and blinked in disbelief.

“Listen to him,” growled Ora. “Now.”

Lili nodded while Leach reached out to push Dowen toward the stairs. He ran behind the nearest pillar, unstrapping his backsack to release his fae where no one could see her.

Kon ushered the others along, urging them to keep their eyes on the guards ahead. Everyone listened and formed a line for Corporal Ulen and Private Stad to check their identifications. Eventually Dowen caught up, meeting Kon at the end with his metal card grasped tightly. Lili and Ora beckoned him to cut in line. Wilm, Morus, and the twins were already joining the Groundsmaster outside. Birds sang and insects chirped in the sunlight beyond.

Kon waited patiently for his turn. “Corporal Ulen,” he greeted.

The guard lifted the brim of his cap, revealing dark eyes beneath a line of shade. “Do I know you?”

“We met yesterday morning in Jubilee Plaza.”

“Right,” Ulen sniffed, ripping his card from his hand. “Kon. 39 years old, huh?” he asked, reading the imprinted metal.

“Something like that,” Kon intoned, ignoring the guard’s disrespectful tone. “Am I free to go?”

Corporal Ulen looked between his face and his picture, then grunted, forcing the card back into Kon’s empty palm. The guard lowered the cap over his eyes and waved him off wordlessly.

Kon wasted no time exiting the gate. Once he was free, the others began descending the grassy hill that led down to Zephyr’s Cradle. While Kon followed, his fae lingered behind. He didn’t stop her.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?” Ulen asked the moment him and his younger subordinate were alone.

“Doesn’t what make me angry?” Private Stad uttered. “Er, Corporal,” he added nervously.

Morus looked back and noticed Kon’s furrowed brow. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” he lied convincingly, pointing forward to make the boy focus on the steep path ahead. Kon stared at his feet and tread carefully, though for the most part, his attention returned to listening.

“—ple like them get incredible power at the whim of Fate, while normal people like us can work as hard as we want, and still never be deemed special enough. What makes them so great to get all the magic and the fun?”

Kon swallowed a growing lump in his throat, then nearly stumbled over his own feet. Thankfully he remained quiet and recovered before the other students could notice.

“I- I don’t know, Corporal. I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Every kid dreams about the day Fate returns their Sight, but that’s just the way it is, isn’t it? If we aren’t chosen, we just have to deal with it. Right?”

“Are you giving me an order, Private?”

“No, Corporal! I would never!”

“Then shut up and forget I ever asked. It’s time for you to rove the foyer anyway. Grab a broom and sweep the floor, too. That fat professor leaves a mess wherever he goes.”

Private Stad hurried to obey. In the ensuing silence, Kon quietly recalled his fae. What Corporal Ulen was saying bordered on blasphemous, though it wasn’t necessarily unusual. Many people had suffered enough losses to resent the fae and Fate, including Kon’s wife, Jrana, whom he loved more than music itself. Even still, it didn’t seem right for one of the Academy’s guards to belong among those people. Kon felt a heavy knot settle in the bottom of his stomach.

I’m probably just worrying for nothing, he thought, attempting to relish in the fresh air while his gaze traced the whirlwind streets of Zephyr’s Cradle. On the westernmost side, the sun peeked through a gap in the mountains, basking leagues of tilled land and blooming crops in warm, golden light. The Sunny District, he presumed. Their destination.

After the heart-pounding stress Kon had experienced in Phantom’s labyrinth, he was looking forward to the simple work of helping farmhands. Judging by the smiles on the other student’s faces, they were just as eager. It was practically a break. No wonder Lafer said this class was her favorite.

Kon’s fae chimed in agreement, though he could sense her reluctance in the spaces between tones. Like he’d told Wilm, they were fairly good at reading people. She could tell something was off about Ulen too.

We should trust Headmaster Nise and Lucid. They would know if one of the Academy’s guards was going to become a problem. They can see Fate, after all.

His fae flew low in front of him, forcing him to focus on his footfalls. Kon took it to mean acceptance. Alongside his peers, Kon put the arrogant guard and the poisoned avokados behind him. For the students of Westwind Academy, neither were among their concerns. They still had another class to attend.