The ship slowed as the docks came into view, the steady creak of wood and snap of sails filling the air. After days trapped underground and a brief taste of sunlight, the sight of an open harbor was enough to stir excitement through the deck.

Ahead stretched the main port outside Valon—stone piers jutting into the water, warehouses stacked high with goods, and cranes creaking as workers unloaded cargo. The city walls rose beyond, and further still, the faint silhouette of Valon's inner spires shimmered under the midday light. The capital was only an hour's ride away.

Students crowded the railing, pointing and murmuring as dockhands shouted orders below. For some, the sight meant home. For others, it was simply the next step.

Noel stood among them, coat tugged by the wind, his gaze fixed on the skyline. 'Back again. Not quite the capital yet… but close enough to smell it.'

Daemar stepped forward, his voice carrying easily over the noise. "Students of Valor, gather!"

The chatter softened as they drew closer. Even the Luceria girls, their violet uniforms stark among the crowd, turned their attention to him.

"We have reached the outer harbor," Daemar said, his tone firm, steady. "From here, those belonging to the Imperial Academy of Valor will disembark. You will have three months to rest before the academy resumes at full capacity. Use the time wisely."

He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "The academy will not close despite what occurred in Tharvaldur. We will endure, and we will rise stronger. But for now, rest."

A murmur rippled across the students—relief for some, uncertainty for others. Three months was longer than most had expected.

Daemar's gaze shifted toward the Luceria group. "As for me, I will remain aboard. My duty is to escort the delegation safely back to their academy in Elarith. Until then, remember—you carry the name of Valor. Do not forget it."

The ropes were thrown to the dockhands, the ship grinding to a halt as it pressed against the pier. Excitement stirred again, louder this time. Their journey by sea was over. Ahead lay their separate paths.

The gangplank slammed into place, the creak of wood followed by the first shouts from dockworkers ready to unload cargo. Students began filing toward the pier in loose groups, but Noel and los suyos lingered near the stern, waiting for the rush to thin.

Elyra was the first to step forward. She faced Noel with her usual confidence, gray eyes locking onto his without hesitation. "I'll be heading home," she said plainly.

Noel nodded. "I guess we'll see each other later."

Before he could add more, Elyra leaned in and kissed him firmly on the lips. No teasing, no coyness—just a simple statement that she was his.

Behind them, a low whistle broke the silence. Roberto, lounging with his arms crossed, muttered loud enough for all to hear, "Tch. Eating in front of people who are starving. Cruel."

Noel shot him a flat look, but Elyra only smirked as she pulled back, clearly amused.

Then Charlotte stepped closer. Her golden eyes softened as she glanced at Elyra, then at Noel. "I'll be going to the Holy Capital. Orthran will want to hear everything, and…" she hesitated only a moment, "I need to see him."

Noel's expression eased, and before he could reply, Charlotte pressed her lips gently to his. Softer than Elyra's kiss, but no less certain.

Roberto groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Unbelievable. Two courses served back-to-back."

Elena rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like idiot.

When Charlotte pulled away, she smiled faintly. "Don't forget to write," she whispered.

Noel gave her a small nod. "Just don't get yourself in trouble."

Marcus and Clara stepped forward then, their luggage already packed neatly at their sides. Marcus clapped Noel on the shoulder. "Next time we spar, don't hold back. I'll be stronger."

Clara gave him a quick hug, smiling warmly. "Take care. Both of you."

And with that, the group began to scatter—each toward their own path.

When the others had gone, Noel found Roberto leaning against a stack of crates near the gangplank, arms folded and his usual lopsided grin plastered on his face.

"You planning to sneak off without saying anything?" Noel asked, walking over.

Roberto shrugged. "Didn't want to get in the way of your farewell parade. Hard to compete with kisses being thrown around."

Noel smirked faintly. "Maybe next time you should try being less miserable. Might improve your odds."

"Bold words coming from you," Roberto shot back, chuckling.

For a moment, they just stood there, the bustle of the dock filling the background. Then Noel tilted his head. "So what now? You heading somewhere?"

Roberto shook his head. "Nah. I'll stay at the academy. Less hassle that way."

"Figures," Noel said. He started to turn, but then Roberto asked suddenly, "And where's your wolf? Haven't seen her since Tharvaldur."

Noel paused, glancing at the shadow at his feet. "She's resting. In here." He tapped the floor lightly. "In my shadow."

Roberto's grin lingered, but he didn't reply right away. His silence stretched a little too long, his eyes fixed on Noel with an expression that didn't match his usual easy tone.

Noel narrowed his eyes slightly. "…What?"

Roberto shook his head quickly, waving a hand. "Nothing. It's just strange that's all."

Before Noel could press further, Roberto cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Oi! Instructor Rauk! Don't leave without me!"

The older man barked something in return, and Roberto jogged toward him without another word, his laughter echoing briefly before getting lost in the crowd.

Noel watched him go, unsettled by that strange pause.

The dock had quieted as the last groups disembarked, their footsteps fading into the bustle of workers and merchants nearby. The smell of salt and fresh cargo hung in the air, mingled with the shouts of dockhands guiding cranes and wagons.

Noel stood with Elena at his side, the two of them lingering longer than most. For the first time since they'd boarded the ship weeks ago, it was just them—no Elyra teasing, no Charlotte clinging nervously, no Roberto with his lazy grins. Just quiet.

Elena tilted her face toward the breeze, her amber eyes catching the sunlight. "Feels strange, doesn't it? Everyone scattering in different directions."

"Strange," Noel admitted, his gaze shifting toward the city walls beyond the port. "But expected. We all have somewhere to be."

They walked down the wide stone steps that led from the pier toward the main square of the harbor. The noise dulled slightly here, replaced by the creak of wagon wheels and the clop of horses' hooves against stone.

That was when Noel noticed it.

A carriage stood apart from the others, polished wood gleaming, its curtains drawn. It wasn't ostentatious, but it carried an air of presence that set it apart from the common merchant wagons lined along the street.

Two figures waited nearby.

The first was unmistakable—Livia. His sister stood tall, her posture perfect, her sharp gaze already fixed on him. There was no smile, no wave. Just the calm certainty that she had been waiting.

Beside her was another familiar presence. Veyron. Elena's brother. Unlike Livia's sharp composure, his expression lit up the moment he spotted them. A warm, genuine smile spread across his face, the kind that eased tension rather than added to it.

Noel slowed slightly at the sight, his thoughts tightening for an instant before softening. Elena followed his gaze, her steps faltering—then quickening—when she recognized her brother.

The air between them wasn't heavy with silence, but touched with familiarity. Veyron's smile lingered, steady and reassuring, as if to say welcome back without words.

The sunlight cast long shadows across the square as the carriage door was opened by an attendant. Noel and Elena exchanged a brief look, silent understanding passing between them.

Their next step was already decided.

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