[Intermediate Synaptic Threading—Progress to Understanding: 27%]

The clock struck seven. A single session had gotten him one-fourth to the finish line.

Fabrisse rotated his wrists as he walked alongside Liene, with Kaldrin close behind. The after-sensation of their pull clung to him like his tendons had learned a new kind of gravity. He could almost feel how the weight had changed his motion, and he had to admit they were helpful.

Kaldrin said, "You adjusted well. If you like, you can take the cuffs home for extra practice."

"Home?" He pictured his dorm desk sagging under them, or worse, him trying to fit them into his already overloaded pack. "They're too heavy," he said finally. "And I don't really have anywhere to put them. My floor creaks when I stack books, so I doubt it'll survive magical gym equipment."

Kaldrin laughed. "Fair enough. They are a bit on the dense side."

"I'll hold onto them for you," Liene said brightly, nudging him with her shoulder. "I've got space, and if you need them, I can just bring them to class."

The mental image of Liene trudging across campus with two chunks of rune-weighted metal in her arms while he walked beside her empty-handed made him wince instantly. Worse, him doing the same thing in reverse every session. His wrists already throbbed in sympathy.

He rubbed his nose. "No, that's fine. I'll just borrow them during practice."

She grinned, clearly amused by his practicality. "Suit yourself, Fabri."

Kaldrin gave an approving nod. "Discipline is knowing what to take home and what to leave behind. Good sense, Kestovar." Kaldrin always knew exactly the kind of thing to say to spin any mundane moment into a life lesson, no matter the situation.

On Fabrisse's hands were two bottles of water Liene had gotten for him; one now nearly empty. They were walking side by side down the quiet east corridor, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off stone. Kaldrin stayed close behind, glancing at his watch every now and then.

"Why are we heading this way?" Liene asked, glancing at the shadowed arches ahead. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for the training ground," Fabrisse said, taking another drink. "There's one that's empty at this hour."

Liene's eyes widened. "Are you really considering training in the evening too?"

"Uh . . . yes."

"How much time have you spent training today again?"

"Nine bells and approximately twenty four minutes," Fabrisse answered.

"Weren't you absolutely spent just now?"

"I'll be alright after a short rest and some water."

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She stopped and stared at him. Her face was utterly blank and her mouth was devoid of any clever remark for once.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Fabrisse asked, frowning.

"You're really becoming an overachiever now!" she said at last, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'm just catching up. It's only been two days, Liene . . ."

"Mm-hmm." Her voice carried a teasing lilt again as she fell back into step beside him. "Just catching up. Sure. Soon you'll be correcting my form." She clicked her tongue. "I'd love to join you but . . . you know, I actually have to study for my own exam. But make sure you get home before eight."

"I'm sure Professor Kaldrin will remind me to."

"I could," Kaldrin said from behind them, "or I could pretend I did and let you learn why the curfew starts at eight." The joke was in poor taste given everything that had happened, but none of them really minded.

They reached the tall iron gate of the east training ground, Fabrisse already picturing the open space and quiet air he'd have to himself. But when he peered through the bars, his steps slowed.

It wasn't empty.

In the center of the field stood Severa Montreal, her stance anchored, one hand raised in a poised line. The air around her compressed into a narrow thread, and with a flick of her finger, a needle-thin lance of wind ripped across the distance, striking the bullseye on a far-off target board so hard it punched clean through the center. The target rocked on its stand.

He'd thought she might have just been posturing on purpose, but even when they randomly ran into her, she somehow still maintained her impeccable composure. Was she really born with a straight spine?

Oh great . . . Best get out of here before she nags me about how I didn't come to Air Practical . .

"Uh . . . The training ground is taken." Fabrisse rubbed the back of his head.

"Taken?" Liene peered in. "There's literally only one person there. You have half the field to yourself."

"But it's Montreal."

"Come inside. What's the worst that could happen? Her striking up a conversation?" Liene nudged him on his elbow. "I doubt you guys will ever bond over exceedingly rare rocks, so there's nothing to worry about."

You don't know that she took my pebble once . . . I mean, she's returned it, but still . . .

"I'll be nearby." Kaldrin nodded. He'd stay close to keep watch, of course. Even though the threat of the Void faction was over for now, one could never be too safe.

His shoulder tightened.

Fabrisse turned back to Liene. She studied Severa for a second then said, "Well, if you feel uncomfortable . . ."

Too late. Severa had seen him.

It was impossible not to notice when Severa was staring at you. Her eyes, deep crimson and unblinking, locked with his for a fraction of a second, the kind of gaze that felt like it could pin a person to the spot. Only a Montreal could have eyes like that: bloodied in color, sharp in gaze, and edged with anchors in her that sealed the air in place.

Severa gestured a single time, but Fabrisse knew that was her cue for him to join in. She looked away a moment later, already resetting her stance for another shot, as if their presence had barely registered.

He swallowed. His discomfort was already crawling up his throat, but he knew this was for the gain. If she'd promised to show him something, she would follow through. Severa Montreal didn't break her word. And as much as he hated to admit it, she was probably as good a teacher as any instructant could be.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Liene asked.

"I don't. You have a test coming." With a reluctant sigh, he turned to Liene and said, "I'm going in."

"That's the spirit." Liene beamed. "If she does anything mean to you, just message me on the glyph."

Fabrisse nodded a final time, then stepped inside.

[Training Completed: +45 EXP]

[Progress to Level 7: 3742/4550]

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