The training hall door moves again. I look up. For a beat I think it’s Auren with more footprints, or Mira returning with the world’s worst rations.
It’s Kaien.
He stands at the frame like he always does—shoulders wide, control in every inch. He looks like order. He looks like a plan. He looks like someone who still carries the echo of the Tower on his shoulders.
He doesn’t smile. He never smiles unless it’s necessary. But when his gaze lands on me, there’s a crack in the commander armour. It’s no word, no overture—just that small thing of recognition that lands like a tether dropped into water.
“Ready?” he says.
“Always,” I say.
He steps in and shuts the door.
We both know the word is a lie and also the truth. We have a mission, a mystery, and an edge that won’t let us sleep until
