Chapter 35 · Untitled Chapter

Student council published demonstration safety standards co-authored by Dorian and Kael. Tomas attached them to orientation packets. Reform, Kael thought, was paperwork that saved lives—boring, vital, forward.

Five years after the loop broke, Kael stood at academy gates on first day of term and watched autumn light strike white stone in clean diagonal bands.

Scholarship intake. Tradition. Not reset.

Tomas—now senior mentor for first-years—handled orientation logistics with terrifying efficiency. Dorian and Mira had delayed honeymoon for the ceremony but not for council duties; he appeared at noon with reports on demonstration safety. Liora's anthem played from the great hall speakers—measure thirty, joyful, public.

Kael chaired ethics committee, guarded Miren's syllabus, checked eastern chimes without admitting he checked them.

The hourglass cloud drifted above spires at 7:12 a.m., 12:08 p.m., and 4:47 p.m.—fleeting, maybe imagination, maybe scar weather. He noted each time in the daylight ledger anyway. Documentation over denial.

A new scholarship boy approached—name unfamiliar, coat threadbare, shoulders tight.

"Sir? Are you Professor Ashford?"

"Kael. Yes."

"They said you survived a month that wouldn't end."

Kael glanced at Tomas, who had the good grace to look guilty.

"I survived a cage," Kael said. "With allies.