Lucas came out of the lecture hall, looked left, looked right, and stood there in the empty corridor blinking at the space where his friends used to be.
They were gone.
All three of them. Completely gone. Nova had apparently heard the word "tournament" and his body had just started moving without consulting anyone else, and Gideon and Celia had chased after him the way you chase after someone who is about to do something you also want to do but are slightly more dignified about.
Lucas stood alone in the corridor for a full three seconds.
"I was interested too," he said, to nobody.
He started walking. Slowly. With one hand pressed to his chest and the specific energy of someone who has been wronged in a way that history will eventually recognize.
"Abandoned," he muttered. "Just like that. Didn't even look back. Didn't even say hey Lucas we're leaving, do you want to come, nothing. Just gone." He kicked lightly at the floor. "Comrades. Brotherhood. Completely meaningless words apparently."
"Hey, Lucas."
He turned.
Sylvia was walking toward him from the other end of the corridor, calm and unhurried, which was just how she moved through the world. He straightened up slightly and let the tragic energy drain out of his posture.
"Sylvia. Didn't expect to see you here." He tilted his head. "Weren't you with the others just now?"
She stopped in front of him. "I could ask you the same thing. Where are Nova and the rest?"
Lucas placed a hand over his heart. His expression went grave. "They betrayed me."
Sylvia blinked. "...What?"
"It's a painful story. I don't want to talk about it."
She looked at him for a moment with the expression of someone deciding whether to ask follow-up questions or let it go. She let it go. "Are you free right now?"
"Tragically, yes."
She gestured to the side.
Lucas looked.
There was a stack of documents on the table beside her that was, genuinely, almost as tall as he was. Neatly arranged, tied with cord, absolutely not a normal amount of paperwork.
"I need to deliver these to Professor Starc," Sylvia said. "I thought you might help."
Lucas looked at the stack. Looked at her. Looked at the stack again.
"Yeah," he said, flashing a grin. "Easy. No problem. Let's go."
He picked up his half.
The weight hit him instantly, shooting straight up through his arms and into his shoulders like a punishment from the universe. He kept his face completely neutral. Adjusted his grip. Kept walking.
"Is it too heavy?" Sylvia asked, glancing at him.
"Too heavy?" He let out a short laugh. "Come on. This is nothing."
His arms were shaking slightly. He was very committed to pretending they weren't.
They fell into step side by side and Lucas, mostly to distract himself from the weight, launched into the full tragic retelling of his abandonment. Nova's explosion of excitement. The sound of three sets of footsteps disappearing down the corridor.
The moment he'd stepped out and found nothing but empty air where his friends used to be.
Sylvia listened to the whole thing.
Then she laughed.
Not loud. Just a soft sound, genuine and unguarded, and it sat so differently on her face from the composed expression she usually wore that Lucas found himself noticing it more than he probably should have.
"So that's what you meant by betrayed," she said, the smile still there. "You looked genuinely devastated."
"I was genuinely devastated," Lucas said. "I'm still in recovery."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm processing grief."
She shook her head, but the smile didn't go anywhere, and they kept walking.
Lucas's gaze drifted to her sideways without him quite deciding to let it.
He thought about when they'd first met. The waiting room before Beatrice's office. Sylvia in the corner, back straight, eyes forward, the kind of cold composure that said she was here to do something and everything else was noise. She had said her own name and then looked away and that had been the end of it.
That person and the one walking next to him right now — same face, same red hair, same steady presence. But something had shifted in the months between then and now. The edges had come down. Not all the way, not loudly, just enough that she laughed at things now. Just enough that she showed up at midnight in a forbidden forest with a lantern because she'd been doing the same thing he'd been doing and apparently they'd just never crossed paths until they did.
He was still thinking about it when she spoke.
"What is it?" Her voice pulled him back. "Is there something on my face?"
"No, nothing." He looked away. "Just thinking."
A beat of silence.
Then Sylvia's lips curved slightly, just at the corner. "Don't tell me you're thinking about what you said last night."
Lucas blinked. "What I said?"
The memory arrived before he finished asking.
*****
The walk back from the forest. The academy lights dim and warm ahead of them, the trees dark behind, the smell of smoke still faint in the cold air. Lucas had stopped without planning to.
Sylvia had taken three more steps before noticing. She'd turned back with a slight frown. "What's wrong?"
He'd stood there for a second with something sitting in his chest that needed to go somewhere.
"You're really strong, Sylvia."
She'd blinked. "Where did that come from?"
"And not just strong." He scratched the back of his head. Kept going anyway. "You're cool too. The way you fight, your magic, how you just — handle things. It's all just..." He shook his head slightly. "Honestly I'm kind of jealous."
"What are you trying to say?" She'd looked genuinely confused. "Why are you saying this out of nowhere?"
He'd lifted his head and met her eyes. No joke this time, no deflection, no smirk to hide behind. Just him saying the thing.
"Mark my words, Sylvia."
He'd raised his fist slightly between them. Not dramatic. Just a quiet promise made to the right person.
"One day I'm going to be just as strong as you. No — stronger. I'll surpass you." He held her gaze. "Just wait and watch."
She'd stared at him for a long moment. The kind of moment where you're deciding whether to dismiss something or let it land.
She'd let it land.
"Very well," she'd said, soft but real. "I'll look forward to that day."
*****
Back in the present Lucas let out a short laugh and shook his head. "Nah. Not that." He adjusted his grip on the documents. "Forget it."
Sylvia studied him for a moment with that quiet, reading expression she had. Like she was deciding whether to push or let it sit.
She was about to say something.
"Lucas."
The voice stopped him cold.
Not because it was loud. Because he knew it. In the specific way you know a sound that has been attached to bad memories long enough that your body reacts before your brain catches up. His steps halted on their own. His grip on the documents tightened.
Slowly he turned.
Two figures stood at the end of the corridor. Broad shoulders, confident posture, the easy relaxed smirks of people who have never once doubted their own right to take up space. Their eyes moved over him the way they always had — like an assessment, like something being weighed and found wanting before a word had even been exchanged.
The taller one took a slow step forward. "Long time no see, Lucas." His voice was the same as Lucas remembered. Unhurried. Carrying that particular warmth that was never actually warm. "Never thought we'd run into each other somewhere like this."
The other one unfolded his arms and looked him up and down, and the smile on his face said everything about what he thought he was seeing. "The academy of all places," he said softly, almost amused. "You really do have some nerve."
Lucas stood there with the stack of documents in his arms and felt every month of grinding in the dark, every goblin, every sleepless night, every stat point earned the hard way sitting somewhere behind his eyes.
He met their gazes.
His jaw tightened.
"Brother Kine," he said quietly. Then he looked at the other one. "Brother Ley."
The corridor was very still.
And the smirks on their faces hadn't moved at all.