Two days after the funeral, the academy woke to the sound of horses in the main courtyard.
I was having breakfast with Mira in the dining hall when we heard the clatter of hooves on stone. The remaining students – those who had not gone home during the month of Macano – raised their heads, exchanged glances. No one had been expecting visitors.
"Zirinos," said Sara, sitting at the next table, "what is that?"
"I don't know." I stood up. "Stay here with Mira."
"I'm coming with you."
"Stay."
She didn't insist. I left the dining hall and went down the stairs to the courtyard.
The sun was high, white, cloudless. The academy walls, still scarred from the siege, gleamed in the morning light. And in the centre of the courtyard, a silver‑blue‑haired boy was dismounting from a tired horse.
"Alór," said Irina, who was already there, arms crossed, her face pale. "You've arrived."
"I have, my lady." The boy made a bow. His leather armour creaked, stained with mud and dried blood. His hair fell over his eyes. Behind him, three knights were also dismounting – Torvin, Kael and Hedrik of Ban, more crippled than the last time I had seen them.
And, resting on a tangle of blankets and ropes on the rump of Alór's horse, an egg.
It was huge – the size of a man's head. The shell gleamed with shades of purple and red, an inner glow pulsing slowly, like a sleeping heart.
"What is that?" asked Irina.
"I don't know," Alór replied. "I found it in an abandoned cave, in the far reaches of Lunos. I brought it with me."
"You brought an egg from an abandoned cave in the far reaches of Lunos?"
"I did."
Irina sighed. She didn't ask further.
---
Alór and the Ban knights were installed in the guest wing. I stayed in the courtyard, looking at the egg they had left in the shade of a column. The shell pulsed. The purple and red glow seemed to come from within, as if there were a trapped flame.
"It's beautiful," said Mira, who had sneaked out of the dining hall and was now beside me.
"It is."
"Will it hatch?"
"I don't know."
"I'd like to have a dragon."
"It's not a dragon."
"How do you know?"
"Size. Colour. Glow." I looked at her. "It's not a dragon."
She made a face but didn't insist.
---
Alór spoke with Andy in the duke's office at the end of the morning.
I wasn't there, but I heard the rumours. The duke received his son with a dry handshake and a look that said nothing. Alór described the journey, the portals he had closed, the monsters he had killed, the corrupted he had encountered. And the egg, of course.
"Your father doesn't talk much," someone said later.
"My father never talked much," Alór replied.
The Ban knights, meanwhile, were taken to the infirmary. Torvin had a swollen leg, Kael a broken arm, Hedrik an infected cut on his shoulder. The nurse, a grey‑haired woman named Elara, treated them with pragmatism.
"You were lucky," she said, while cleaning Hedrik's wound. "One more day and you would have lost the arm."
"Lucky?" Torvin spat on the ground. "Trussum killed our horses. He corrupted our guides. He only didn't kill us because he chose not to."
"Then you were lucky all the same."
Torvin didn't answer.
---
I found Alór in the back courtyard at dusk.
He was sitting on a stone bench, the egg beside him, looking at the sea. His silver‑blue hair shone in the setting sun.
"Zirinos," he said without turning. "Daniel's killer."
"The academy's saviour."
"Both." He looked at me. "My father speaks of you."
"Does he speak well?"
"He says you are useful. And dangerous."
"It's the truth."
"Truth is a matter of perspective." Alór scratched his beard. "You're going to the three sea villages, aren't you?"
"I am."
"Why?"
"I need to train. And the academy is under repairs."
"Liar."
"True."
He didn't insist. He just nodded, as if he already knew the answer before asking.
"Be careful in the villages," he said. "The sea guild is dangerous. And the Contraranures have eyes there."
"Every place has eyes."
"In the villages, the eyes also speak."
I stored the warning.
"Thank you."
"You don't need to thank me. You need to survive."
---
Andy's farewell was brief.
The duke found me in the west wing corridor when I was already preparing to leave. Mira was in the room, packing her belongings – her drawings, coloured stones, a wooden comb.
"Zirinos," he called.
"Duke."
"You're taking the girl?"
"I am."
"Take care of her."
"I will."
He looked at me. His grey, tired eyes showed no emotion.
"Mára Ferão," he said quietly. "I know what happened to her."
"I know you know."
"I won't tell anyone."
"Why?"
"Because you wouldn't hurt someone without a reason." Andy squeezed my shoulder. "Or am I wrong?"
"You are."
He almost smiled.
"Then we're both wrong."
He walked away. I stared at the door through which he had disappeared.
'He knows', I thought. 'And he does nothing.'
'Why?'
The answer did not come.
---
The next day, at dawn, I left.
Mira walked beside me, a backpack on her back, her curly hair tied in a ponytail. The small sword I had given her swung at her hip.
The academy gates opened. The king's road stretched before us, dusty, empty.
"Zirinos?" asked Mira.
"Yes?"
"Will we come back?"
"We will."
"When?"
"When the war ends."
"And if it doesn't end?"
"Then we'll invent our own war."
She looked at me. Her clear, innocent eyes tried to understand if I was serious.
"I like you, Zirinos," she said.
"I know."
She squeezed my hand.
We began to walk.
The king's road stretched before us.
-