Date: June 3, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Summer came to the "Golden Stronghold" unexpectedly. Just yesterday, morning mists had drifted along the avenues, making students huddle in their uniform cloaks, and today the sun beat down so fiercely that the stone slabs grew hot, and even in the shade of the colonnades, it was stifling. The magical domes over the academy, meant to soften the climate, worked strangely in summer — they let heat in but trapped the wind, turning the courtyards into scorching bowls.
Eliza sat in her usual spot by the fountain, her back against the warm stone. The water murmured especially brightly in this heat, and fine spray reached her face, bringing brief relief.
Beside her, her head on Eliza's shoulder, Mira dozed. Lis, sprawled on the fountain's edge, tried to catch drops from the upper basin in his mouth, missing every time. Rein sat opposite, thoughtfully tracing patterns on his knee with a finger, planning for tomorrow's exam.
"You went for a night training session again," Mira said quietly, without opening her eyes.
Eliza wasn't surprised. Mira always noticed everything.
"I needed to think," she replied.
"You can think during the day."
"Too noisy during the day."
Mira opened one eye, looked at her friend, and closed it again. "You've been leaving at night more often. And sleeping less. That's not good."
"I sleep enough."
"You're lying," Lis interjected, not opening his mouth to keep from missing another drop. "I heard you tossing and turning last night. Something happen?"
Eliza shook her head. "Everything's fine. Just training."
She wasn't telling the truth. Not because she didn't trust her friends. She just couldn't explain what was happening to her power.
The Thread had changed. Eliza felt it every night when she was alone in the training hall. It was no longer just gold and thin. It had become denser, heavier, and when she released it, the thread's ends began to darken, taking on a rusty, ochre hue.
The instructors said it was normal for her level. That as power grew, the color of a Spirit could change, becoming more saturated. But Eliza knew: that wasn't it. She'd read old scrolls, she'd asked Master Herve, who taught them the theory of Spirit evolution. He said the "Golden Thread" always remained gold. It was its nature. Its essence.
So what was happening to her power wasn't normal. But she didn't know how to stop it. Or… she wasn't sure she wanted to.
"Eliza."
She looked up. Walking toward the fountain, unhurriedly stepping around puddles left by students, came Aduvio.
Lis stopped trying to catch drops and sat up. Mira opened both eyes. Rein stopped tracing patterns. The air at the fountain grew denser.
"Hello," Aduvio stopped a few paces away, his shadow falling on the water. He wore a light linen shirt, no uniform tunic, and in this simple attire, he looked almost ordinary. Almost. "I was looking for you."
"As always," Lis muttered, but quietly enough that no one heard. Almost no one.
Aduvio paid no attention. He looked only at Eliza.
"Tomorrow evening, the 'Circle' is holding a gathering. I'd like you to come."
"I already said," Eliza began, but he raised his hand, stopping her.
"I know. You don't want to join. And I respect your choice. But this isn't an invitation to join. It's an invitation to observe. We'll be discussing plans for summer practice, placement in expeditions. It's useful information, Eliza. For all of you," he glanced briefly at Rein, Mira, and Lis. "Knowing where and when the strong groups are going will help you avoid dangerous places."
"Or choose them," Rein smirked.
Aduvio smiled, and there was no mockery in it. "Or choose them," he agreed. "The point is to have a choice. Without information, you're blind. And the blind don't last long at the 'Golden Stronghold.'"
He spoke the truth. Eliza knew it. Summer practice was dangerous. Every year, someone didn't return. And those without access to closed information took the greatest risks.
"I'll come," she said.
Lis twitched but stayed silent. Mira squeezed her hand a little tighter. Rein lowered his head.
"Good," Aduvio nodded. "I'll send for you."
He left as quietly as he'd come, his light shirt flashing between the columns and vanishing.
"You don't have to do this," Mira said quietly.
"I know," Eliza replied. "But I want to know what awaits us. So I can protect us."
"Or become one of them?" Lis asked without malice, more with sadness.
Eliza looked at him. In his eyes was no accusation. Only pain. The same pain he tried to hide behind jokes and foolishness.
"I'll never become one of them," she said. "I am who I am. And I'm here, with you."
Lis wanted to answer but didn't. He just nodded and turned back to the fountain, pretending to try catching drops again.
The "Circle of the Falcon" gathering was held in the same hall where Eliza had been a month ago. But now there were more people. At least twenty. They sat around the long table, and the air in the hall was thick with the concentration of power.
Eliza took a seat at the end, trying to stay unnoticed. Aduvio sat at the head, and in this light, under the magical lamps, he seemed older, harder. He spoke of group assignments, of routes, of zones that would be closed to ordinary students. He spoke calmly, confidently, and they listened. Not because they feared him. Because he was their leader.
Eliza listened, memorized. Zones where defiled creatures had been sighted last year. Places where energy concentration was anomalously high. Paths leading to abandoned ruins where valuable artifacts could be found. And dangerous areas where even prepared groups shouldn't venture.
She thought of her friends. They would likely be assigned to one of the most dangerous zones — the academy always placed "ordinary" students where the risk was highest and protection lowest. And no one would tell them the truth. No one would warn them.
Except her.
When the gathering ended, Eliza rose to leave. But Aduvio stopped her.
"Stay," he said, when the hall had emptied. "I want to talk with you."
She stayed.
They stood by the window, and from the fifth floor, the night-time academy spread below. The lights of the lamps twinkled like tiny stars.
"You've grown stronger," Aduvio said. "I can feel it. Your Thread has changed."
"Yes," Eliza replied. She no longer denied it.
"And it frightens you."
"Yes."
Aduvio turned to her. In his eyes was not the cold confidence of the gathering. Only quiet, almost weary understanding.
"You think you're becoming cruel. Losing yourself. But it's not true, Eliza. You're just becoming stronger. And power doesn't make a person evil. It makes them… capable."
"Capable of what?"
"Of anything," he smiled. "Of protection. Of love. Of hatred. Of choice. Your Thread is you. If you remain yourself, your power will serve you, not control you."
Eliza looked at him, and for the first time in a long while, she thought she saw not a mask, but a face.
"Why do you care so much what happens to me?" she asked. "What am I to you?"
Aduvio was silent for a moment. The lights below flickered, casting shadows on his face.
"You're what I could have been," he finally said. "If I'd had the courage."
He didn't explain. And Eliza didn't ask. She understood. Or thought she did.
As she left the hall, Aduvio called out:
"Eliza. Take care of your friends. They're what make you who you are."
She nodded and left, feeling his gaze on her back.
That night, she didn't sleep again. She sat on the windowsill, watching the moon rise over the academy's spires, and thought. About Aduvio's words. About what he'd said: "You're what I could have been." About how he hadn't explained.
She summoned her Thread. Golden, it slipped from her palm and stretched toward the moon. But its ends were not gold. They were rusty, dark, almost crimson.
Eliza watched them, and inside her, where the heaviness waited its hour, something stirred. Not fear. Not anger. Something else. Solid. Cold. Decisive.
"I'm not afraid," she whispered. "I'm not afraid."
The Thread trembled. The dark ends flared brighter, for a moment becoming almost blood-red. Then faded, leaving only gold.
But Eliza knew. They would return.
The next morning, she came to the fountain earlier than anyone. The sun was just rising, and the water in the basins seemed molten gold. Eliza sat with her eyes closed, listening to the drops fall into the water, shattering the silence.
"You're early."
She opened her eyes. Rein stood a few paces away, holding three mugs of herbal tea.
"Couldn't sleep," she replied.
"Me neither," he sat beside her, offering a mug. "You got back late last night. How did it go?"
"Learned a lot of useful things," Eliza took a sip. The tea was bitter, but she was used to it. "In the summer, they're sending us to the western sector. There will be dangerous zones. I'll tell you where not to go."
Rein nodded. "Thank you."
They sat in silence, watching the sun rise over the academy. Gradually, other students began to appear. Some hurried to lectures, others, like them, simply enjoyed the morning.
"Eliza," Rein said first. "Whatever happens… we're with you. Always. Even if you become strong. Even if your thread changes. We'll be there."
She looked at him. In his eyes was not pity. Only certainty.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
They finished their tea, and as the sun rose higher, Mira and Lis arrived at the fountain. Lis was sleepy, with disheveled hair, trying to straighten his collar on the go. Mira, as always, looked composed, but shadows lay under her eyes.
"Didn't sleep either?" Eliza asked.
"Was thinking about the exam," Mira waved her off, but Eliza noticed how she glanced at her — quick, worried.
They sat together, as always, and Eliza felt the warmth these moments gave her. The warmth she didn't want to lose. The warmth she was willing to become stronger for. Willing to change.
She looked at her friends and thought that soon everything would change. That soon she would have to make a choice that would affect not only her life. But today, this morning, at the fountain, with a mug of bitter tea and her friends beside her, she allowed herself simply to be.
Eliza didn't know what awaited her. But she knew she was ready. For whatever lay ahead.
She took a sip of tea, and the bitter taste seemed sweet.
"Tomorrow," she said, "will be a hard day. But today we rest. Okay?"
Lis, who'd finally fixed his collar, smiled. "Resting is something I'm good at."
Mira smirked. Rein shook his head.
And Eliza smiled. In that smile, in that moment, she was just herself. Eliza of Aurelia. The girl with the golden thread in her heart. And that was enough.