Cane lay comfortably, basking in the rare peace of his dorm room. The bed was warm, the air still, and silence had never felt so rewarding. Somewhere deeper—in the quiet center of his ringworld—the dark star pulsed steadily, psi-mana threading back through the system like soft breath. His reservoir was healing.
From the nearby speaker rune, Sophie's voice chimed in—bright and warm as ever.
"Good morning, everyone. This is Sophie Sweetwater with your morning announcements."
Cane smiled faintly.
"The new Fronts are only days from opening. Travel is still considered safe across the continent; however, as always, it is strongly recommended that you travel in groups."
Her voice turned a little more formal.
"Starting tomorrow at 7:00 AM, rifts will open every half hour until 9:00 AM. The knighting ceremony is a mandatory event, so please plan to be in place by 10:00. Return rifts will begin at 5:00 PM and run hourly until 10:00 PM."
She paused, then shifted to something lighter.
"Today, I'm joined by a special guest and dear friend—first-year Cadet Dhalia. Thanks for joining me today, Dhalia."
Dhalia: "My pleasure."
Sophie: "You're being knighted tomorrow in the capital. How big of a deal is this in your life?"
Dhalia: "It's an honor I never expected. My whole family's coming. Half my village, too."
Sophie: "Your team won the group competition this year—something no first-year team has ever done. What's the secret to good teamwork?"
Dhalia: "Secret? I don't know if there is one. We train hard. I've run fifteen miles without stopping, carried boulders up hills, waded through neck-deep water upstream. It's grueling, but we push through."
Sophie: "That sounds incredibly taxing. What keeps you going?"
Dhalia: "Knowing I'm the weak link."
Sophie: "That doesn't sound weak at all."
Dhalia: "Maybe not on paper. But Cane, Fergis, Clara—they're all physically stronger than me. If we're in danger, we can only move as fast as I can keep up. I'm the healer. The only way I protect them is by pushing past what I think I can do."
Sophie: "I'm going to say the name of one of your teammates. Give me a few words to describe them. Ready?"
Dhalia: "Ready."
Sophie: "Clara."
Dhalia: "Annoying. Loud. But also loyal, clever, tough, and reliable."
Sophie (grinning): "Fergis?"
Dhalia: "Talented. Helpful. Driven. Overpowered. Loyal."
Sophie: "And Cane?"
Dhalia: "Heroic. In every way that matters."
Sophie: "That's a pretty brief description for your team's leader."
Dhalia: "What else can be said? I'm proud of all of them. Clara never quits. Fergis never loses. And Cane… well, he's the monster the Zuni Empire fears."
Sophie (smiling): "Last question—are you seeing anyone?"
Dhalia (laughing softly): "No... Between training, studies, and the town clinic, I don't have time. But that doesn't mean I'm not interested. Come by the clinic, say hi, start a conversation."
Sophie (cheerfully): "There you have it! Thank you, Dhalia. And to everyone listening—this is Sophie Sweetwater reminding you: if you see someone without a smile this morning, be sure to give them yours. I'll see you all back here this afternoon. Good day."
The woman stood beneath the trees, dipping water from the lake and letting it cascade down her bare skin. Rivets of cold slid over her porcelain frame, dripping into the grass at her feet. She repeated the ritual again and again until her teeth began to chatter.
Cleansed, she stepped into a long, flowing robe and walked barefoot across a circle of stones—too perfectly arranged to be anything but deliberate.
With her hair slicked back and legs crossed, she closed her eyes.
An image shimmered into the air above her.
"Mother, are you well?"
"Of course, Fraedi. You worry needlessly." Gadira's breath steadied, and the projection sharpened. "Report."
"Something big stirs on the Western Front. Our scouts can't pin it down, but it reeks of danger. I think we should move you. If the Zuni punch through, even the Academy could be at risk."
"The Academy will never fall," Gadira replied coolly. "The Archmage would break the Pact itself to defend this place."
"Even still... Cane wanders like a drunk sailor on leave. Our spies say he was seen halfway to the capital just yesterday."
"No. I'm hidden where my enemies can't reach."
She received the rest of the report in silence, her expression unreadable. For once, her soothsayer's gifts offered no clear direction—no glimpse of a certain future. And that, more than anything, unsettled her.
He's the storm, she thought, the reason everyone keeps looking at the sky.
She would watch him closely.
Fergis stopped by during lunch, helping himself to the cart of fresh food.
"They really do love to spoil you," he said, biting into a warm roll.
"Agreed," Cane said around a mouthful of bear stew. "Did you put in for the leave?"
Fergis nodded. "We're excused all next week. I also sent word to Teek—told her to save us a few spots."
"Perfect. Meet me at the staging area in three days."
"And if you're not done with your business?"
Cane shrugged. "Up to you. Go without me or wait—it won't be long."
Fergis leaned against the desk. "Did you hear Dhalia's interview this morning?"
Cane smirked. "Yeah. You gonna mention the part where she invited half the academy to flirt with her at the clinic?"
Fergis grinned. "Ten gold says she regrets that by nightfall."
"I'm not taking that bet. There's probably a line forming as we speak."
Just then, Gadira's voice echoed from the ringworld.
"I have the information I promised you, Cane."
Fergis finished his roll and gave a lazy salute before slipping out. As the door clicked shut, Cane sent his senses inward, merging with the ringworld.
He found Gadira immediately, her presence steady and unmistakable.
"The eastern front is lightly manned. You'll meet minimal resistance. What forces remain will be tied up with the allied push. You'll have a window."
"Good." Cane studied her expression. "Anything else?"
Gadira hesitated. The dice were already in motion. Speaking now could shift the outcome—or solidify it.
"Cane… If you don't kill the one responsible, someone you care for will die."
A chill ran through him. "Who?"
"It shifts… between Jonas, Clara, and Sophie."
His breath caught. The air around him dropped several degrees.
"You've seen this? How reliable is it?"
"I've seen it," she said carefully. "But reliability? That's not something I can promise. I deal in possibilities."
"Explain." Cane's voice was low, sharp.
"If you stood at a crossroads and asked me which path was safer, I could tell you. But that doesn't mean you'd die on the dangerous one... or survive the safer one."
"I understand."
He vanished.
Back in his room, Cane opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling in silence. The peace from earlier had vanished, leaving something harder in its place.
"No mercy," he whispered.
Cane considered Gadira's warning carefully.
If the person responsible for the disappearance of the villagers from Hybacus survived… someone he cared for would die.
"It could be a manipulation," he thought. "But to what end? How does that serve her cause?"
No. He didn't think it was a ploy. Gadira believed what she saw—though she'd admitted it was only a possibility, not a certainty.
Still, it didn't matter.
"I'll do what must be done," Cane said aloud.
Even if the path ahead was distasteful or immoral, he would walk it. His conscience could bear the weight—if it meant sparing those he loved.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, laying out his weapons and gear in measured silence.
First: Starbolt, resting in its longsword form—sleek, balanced, familiar.
Then Starstrike, shaped into the heavy axe he favored when the outcome was in doubt.
Next, he unfurled the Starstingers, compact and deadly. Then came the interwoven rope, metallic and rune-marked, coiled with quiet power. He laid out his dark stealth gear, reinforced with a heartguard and etched with elemental threads, followed by the more imposing Salt armor—his personal blend of power and metallurgy.
And finally: Blue, the hammer that birthed the Mythic Glacial Ice rune, with him since the beginning. He rested it gently alongside the others.
He looked at it all—the symbols of every lesson, every trial, every choice that had led to this moment.
"I'll wear the Salt armor for the knighting ceremony tomorrow," he muttered, almost to himself. "Then switch to the stealth gear before joining Mori."
From a small velvet pouch, he unrolled the elemental rings and laid them out: Fire, Wood, Water, Air, Ice, and Psi.
Cane picked up the Ice ring, turning it between his fingers. It gleamed with twin tones—half Water, half Air—a hybrid forged for precision and endurance. His star weapons were already attuned to Ice, each carrying the mythic rune he had mastered over time.
He slipped it onto his finger and exhaled slowly.
"This... is the strongest version of myself," he said.
And yet, a part of him still ached at how far behind his Psi talents lagged. For all his mastery of metal, ice, and starlight—his mind remained the final frontier.
But that, too, would come in time.
For now, he would do what he could with the tools already in place.