The autumn equinox arrives not with a sudden drop in temperature, but with a subtle, pervasive shift in the light. The sun hangs lower in the sky, casting long, golden shadows across the Academy grounds, and the air takes on the crisp, biting edge of woodsmoke and damp earth.
I wake before dawn, the chill seeping through the cracked window of our suite. My left shoulder throbs with a deep, rhythmic ache, the nerve damage from the Mariana Trench frostbite flaring in the cold. Beside me, Kade is already awake. He is sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me, his right hand methodically strapping his carbon-fiber brace around his left shoulder.
Morning, Luna, he projects, his mental voice a soft, intimate rumble. He turns, his green eyes bright and clear in the morning light. How’s the
