The math held, Asher whispers, his mental voice a fragile, trembling whisper. I just showed it how to sing.
I pull Elara into a fierce, crushing hug, burying my face in her dark hair. You did it, baby, I project, my mental voice thick with overwhelming pride. You held the line.
The geometry held, Elara projects back, her mental voice a fragile, trembling whisper. I just showed him where to weave.
Night falls over the Academy.
The physical scars of the day have been integrated into the architecture. The cracked ceramic pots in the classroom have been swept away. The ancestral stones in the eastern grove are quiet. The air smells of pine, damp earth, and the faint, sweet scent of blooming jasmine.
I stand on the balcony of our suite, a mug of hot tea warming my heavily bandaged right ha
