Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The clock on the wall of the clubroom swung its pendulum back and forth, the sound quiet but constant, filling the still air.
Moonlight slipped through the open window, pale and cold, painting the floor in a washed-out silver.
The curtains stirred faintly whenever the breeze picked up.
Soren leaned his shoulder against the windowsill and rested his forehead against the cool frame, letting the autumn air wash over his face.
His thoughts were still a mess.
Freya's diary.
Her last words.
The way the ink had cut off mid-line.
The rage that had surged up in him earlier had cooled, no longer a burning, twisting flame; it sat in his chest now as something steadier, quieter.
A decision.
He would take down Sofia Arden.
Not now.
Not tomorrow.
Maybe not for years.
But he would.
It wasn't something he could do on a whim.
Not when he was this weak.
Not when he still had people to protect.
But one day, when he was ready, when he had the strength and the means, when he could do it without throwing away everything Freya had died to give him…
She would fall.
"Hahh…"
A long breath slipped out of him as he tilted his head back and looked up at the night sky.
The moon hovered above the academy grounds, bright and far away.
A few thin clouds drifted lazily across it, like someone had carelessly smudged charcoal across a painting.
Soren squinted at it.
"I should buy some alcohol," he muttered.
It was a familiar thought, a bad one, probably.
Even if he had made some good memories with drinking recently, his old habits didn't disappear that easily.
He reached out and closed the window with a soft click.
The cool air cut off, leaving behind the lingering chill on his skin.
Then he pushed himself away from the sill, rolled his shoulders slowly and stretched his body until his joints cracked.
The clubroom was quiet.
No one was in the living room.
No voices leaked from the spare rooms.
Lev's door was closed, and no chemical smell seeped out, so he was either using his magic tools properly or had passed out.
Soren stepped into his boots by the entrance, tied the laces with automatic motions, and slipped out of the clubroom.
The door closed behind him with a small, muffled sound.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
The academy grounds at night were different.
By day, the paths were flooded with noise: students chatting, laughing, complaining.
By night, everything thinned out.
The cobblestone paths were almost empty.
The lamps lining the walkways shone with a soft, warm glow, small spheres of light hovering above their posts, the result of Dorothy's magic engineering.
Soren walked in silence, hands tucked into his cloak pockets.
Only the sound of his boots clicking against the stone echoed in the air.
His breath came out as a faint mist.
He didn't know exactly what time it was, but the position of the moon made it obvious it was well past midnight.
The buildings had that particular stillness that only came when most people were asleep.
He followed the familiar path toward the outer gate.
The guards' post was lit from within.
One of the two guards on duty stepped out when he saw Soren approaching, spear held loosely at his side.
"Out this late?" the guard asked.
His tone wasn't hostile, just curious.
Soren scratched his cheek lightly.
"I need to do a bit of shopping. Won't be long."
"Shopping, huh?"
The guard's gaze flicked up and down, taking in the cloak, the lack of luggage, the slightly shadowed eyes.
"You're not planning on starting a fight somewhere, are you?"
"If I was, I'd pick somewhere closer," Soren replied dryly.
The guard snorted.
"Fair enough."
He stepped back into the small booth by the gate, pressed down on a machine, then returned with a small, thin slip of engraved crystal.
A permit.
"Keep this on you. If the patrols stop you, show it and tell them you're from Stellaris. Try not to cause trouble," the guard said.
"I'll behave, thanks," Soren replied, taking the crystal.
He tucked it into his pocket.
That was one of the things he liked about Stellaris Academy.
Even though it had the structure of a boarding school, with dorms and curfews, there was still a surprising amount of freedom.
There was no iron-clad rule that students had to stay in their rooms at night.
No strict curfew that locked everyone in after a certain time.
As long as you got a permit and stayed within the academy city, nobody really cared if you stepped out at midnight to buy food or… alcohol.
Obviously, that level of freedom was only possible because of Dorothy's ridiculous magical engineering.
The spellwork that protected the academy and city wasn't normal; it made the entire area something like a fortress with a soft face.
Monsters couldn't get in unless they were invited.
Hostile forces would trigger alarms long before they got close.
But more than that, the academy treated them like what they technically were.
Adults.
In Stellaris, students were already legal adults by the time they enrolled.
The academy trusted them.
Or at least pretended to.
Soren passed through the gate and walked down the slope into the academy city, the lamps changing from academy fixtures to civilian ones as he went.
The city at night was still lively in patches.
Some bars and taverns were open, spilling light and noise into the street.
A few couples walked together, laughing softly.
A group of mercenaries and adventurers were gathered outside a guild building, their armour clinking as they jostled each other.
Soren ignored them.
He turned down a quieter side street, heading for a familiar wooden sign hanging above a door.
A small bar.
Not fancy, not particularly rough, just cheap.
He pushed through the swinging shutters, and the low buzz of conversation brushed against his ears.
There were a few people scattered at tables, talking over cheap beer.
Someone was playing a string instrument in the corner, fingers moving lazily over the strings.
The smell of alcohol and sweat mingled in the air.
Soren walked straight up to the counter.
The barkeep, a man in his late thirties with a tired face and rolled-up sleeves, glanced over.
"Do you sell wine?" Soren asked.
"Sure do, what are you looking for?" the man replied.
"Anything will do, just give me a few bottles."
"To go?"
"Please."
The barkeep raised an eyebrow at the Stellaris uniform, the late hour, the expression that sat somewhere between calm and exhausted on Soren's face, but he didn't comment.
"Give me a minute," he said, turning away.
Soren leaned his elbows on the counter and let his gaze drift over the room as he waited.
People laughed, mugs clinked, and someone at a nearby table complained loudly about work; it was normal, completely normal.
It felt strangely distant.
The barkeep came back with a small crate holding several dark glass bottles.
"Cheapest red I've got. Sweet, drinkable, won't kill you unless you want it to."
"That's fine," Soren replied.
"One silver, thirty copper."
Soren pulled two silver coins from his ring and placed them on the counter.
"Keep the change."
The barkeep blinked, then shrugged.
"Suit yourself. Try not to do anything too stupid with it, kid."
"I'll try," Soren said.
He put the bottles into his inventory one by one, the air above his finger rippling faintly as each one vanished.
Then he turned, pushed back through the shutters, and stepped out into the night again.
The air outside felt colder now.
He tilted his head back and looked up at the moon once more.
"I should get some sleep when I'm done," he muttered, stretching his arms above his head.
Then he dropped his hands, shoved them back into his pockets, and made his way up the path toward the academy again.
————「❤︎」————