The sun was high now, the room bright. Outside, he could hear the sounds of the academy—footsteps, voices, the distant clang of training. Life continuing, ordinary and oblivious.
He rose from the couch and walked to the window, looking out at the academy grounds, at the cadets walking between classes, at the gardens and fountains and spires. Busy, doing their best to survive in this unforgivable world.
His phone buzzed again. Khione: The garden. One hour.
He typed back: I'll be there.
He pocketed the phone and headed for the door.
°°°
Let's rewind time a bit.
Khione set the phone aside and rose to her feet.
Her closet was small but organized, her clothes arranged by color and occasion. She reached past the training gear, past the formal dresses, and pulled out a simple white robe. It was soft, lightweight, with a belt that tied at the waist. She slipped it on, brushed her hair, and looked at herself in the mirror.
