Date: May 12, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Another week had passed. A week in which Eliza tried to pretend nothing was happening. She attended lectures, met her friends at the fountain, helped Lis with his perpetually late assignments. But everything had changed. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, but it had changed.
Rein had grown quieter. Mira had stopped laughing. And Lis… Lis no longer joked.
"They came again," Mira said as Eliza settled onto the stone edge of the fountain. "Last night. The 'Night Owls.' They were waiting outside the dormitory."
Eliza felt everything inside her clench. "Who?"
"Me," Lis shrugged, trying to look casual. But Eliza saw his fingers clenching into fists. "Said I talk too loud in the corridors. That it's time to teach me silence."
"What happened?" Eliza's voice was quiet, but there was steel in it she hadn't expected from herself.
"Nothing," Rein shook his head. "Mira and I were nearby. They didn't want to mess with three of us. But they warned that next time they might not be alone."
Eliza stared at her hands. The golden thread within her pulsed, demanding release. She felt her energy growing heavy, ready to burst out. But she didn't know what she would do if it did. And that frightened her more than the "Night Owls."
"We need to do something," she said.
"Like what?" Rein gave a bitter smile. "Complain to the instructors? The 'Night Owls' are the children of those who fund half the academy. Our complaints mean nothing to anyone."
"Aduvio offered help," Eliza said quietly, and immediately felt the air around them grow denser. Mira and Rein exchanged glances. Lis lowered his head.
"You want to go to the 'Falcons'?" Mira asked, no judgment in her voice. Only weary understanding.
"I want you to be safe," Eliza replied. "If that means talking to Aduvio…"
"No," Lis raised his head, and in his eyes burned a fire Eliza hadn't seen before. "We won't hide behind someone else's backs. And you won't either. We'll handle it ourselves."
"Lis…"
"I said no," he stood, his usually skinny, awkward figure suddenly seeming almost grown-up to Eliza. "We are who we are. And the 'Falcons' are who they are. If we start asking them for protection, we stop being ourselves."
He left without looking back. Mira rose to follow, casting Eliza a guilty glance, and hurried after him.
Rein stayed. He sat, staring at the fountain water, and said nothing. Eliza waited.
"He's right," Rein finally said. "And wrong at the same time. The 'Falcons' won't protect us for free. They'll want something in return. And we have nothing to give them."
"I have something," Eliza said quietly.
Rein turned to her. There was pain in his eyes, pain she couldn't ignore.
"You're not a thing, Eliza. And your gift isn't merchandise. Don't let them think otherwise."
He stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. "We'll handle it. Like we always do. Just… stay with us. That's all we need."
He left, and Eliza was alone by the fountain. The water murmured softly, splashing against the stone basins, and the sound seemed like mockery. She was with them. But was that enough?
Back in her room, Eliza couldn't sleep. She lay staring at the ceiling, thinking about Lis's words. About how he'd clenched his fists when talking about the "Night Owls." About how he'd left without looking back.
She summoned her Thread. Golden, thin, it slipped from her palm and stretched upward, towards the ceiling. Eliza watched it, and the light seemed dimmer. Or was it just a trick of the shadows?
The Thread trembled. Eliza felt something stir deep inside her, in the very heart of her Vessel. Not her power. Not her gift. Something else, dark, impatient.
She abruptly released her grip, and the thread vanished. Her heart pounded somewhere in her throat. Eliza sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. The trembling wouldn't stop.
"What's happening to me?" she whispered into the darkness. There was no answer.
The next morning, she woke with a heavy head. Her roommate had already left, leaving a note on the table: "You look terrible. Sleep." Eliza crumpled the paper and tossed it in the wastebasket.
She didn't go to lectures. Instead, she went to the small training hall — the same one where she had spoken with Aduvio a week ago. It was empty. The silence pressed on her ears, and Eliza was grateful for it.
She closed her eyes and summoned her Thread. Golden, it stretched forward, touching the far wall. Eliza felt every crack in the stone, every speck of dust on the floor. Her gift was here, with her. It was strong. But it wasn't enough.
She opened her eyes and looked at her hands. Her palms were empty, but deep inside, where her heart beat, she felt heaviness. The same heaviness that had appeared after her conversation with the "Falcons." It was growing, filling with lead, and Eliza didn't know what to do about it.
"You're here again."
Aduvio's voice came from the doorway. Eliza didn't turn.
"I'm training," she said.
"I see," he entered the hall, his footsteps silent. "But your Thread… it's different."
Eliza finally turned. Aduvio stood a few paces away, and in his eyes was not curiosity, but… something like concern.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"It's heavier than before," he replied. "And darker. Do you feel it?"
Eliza wanted to say no, but the words stuck in her throat. She felt it. Every day.
"It's because of the 'Night Owls,'" Aduvio said, and it wasn't a question. "You're angry. And your gift is responding to your anger."
"I'm not angry," she replied, but a note crept into her voice she didn't recognize.
"You are angry," he repeated, stepping closer. "At them. At the system. At yourself for not being able to protect your friends. It's normal, Eliza. It means you're alive."
"Then why does it frighten me?"
He didn't answer immediately. He looked at her, and in his gaze was something she hadn't noticed before. Not pity. Not mockery. Understanding.
"Because you're afraid of becoming like them," he finally said. "But you won't. You're different."
"How do you know?"
Aduvio smiled, and there was no superiority in that smile. Only quiet, almost sad certainty.
"Because you ask that question. They never do. They just take."
He turned and walked toward the exit. At the door, he paused.
"Eliza. If you need help… I'll be there. Not because I need you. But because I respect your choice."
The door closed behind him, and Eliza was alone. She looked at her hands, and for the first time in a long while, they weren't shaking.
That evening, she came to the fountain. Rein, Mira, and Lis were already there. They sat in their usual spots, and when Eliza settled beside them, no one said a word. The silence was heavy, but it didn't press. It was theirs.
"I'm not going to the 'Falcons,'" Eliza said.
Lis raised his head. In his eyes flashed something like hope.
"Really?"
"Really," she replied. "We'll handle it ourselves. Like always."
Rein smirked, and in that smirk was something of the old lightness. Mira silently took her hand. Lis leaned back, gazing at the darkening sky.
"You know," he said, "we really will handle it. Because we have each other."
Eliza smiled. The smile was weak, but it was real.
She looked at her friends, and inside her, where the heaviness still waited its hour, something stirred. Not broken. Not gone. Just… paused.
She knew this quiet wouldn't last forever. That sooner or later, she would have to choose. But tonight, at the fountain, with her friends, she allowed herself to believe everything would be alright.
Her golden thread pulsed steadily and calmly within her. The shadow sleeping beside it did not stir. Eliza squeezed Mira's hand and watched the stars begin to appear in the sky.
"What about tomorrow?" Lis asked.
"Tomorrow," Eliza replied, "is a new day."