Night falls over the Academy.
The physical scars of the war have been integrated into the architecture. The massive, scorched monolith of the surface tether still stands in the center of the courtyard, a permanent reminder of the sky we brought down. But now, a single, tiny, golden leaf glows softly in the moonlight, a beacon of life in the scarred wood.
I stand on the balcony of our suite, a mug of hot tea warming my heavily bandaged hands. The air smells of pine, damp earth, and the faint, sweet scent of blooming jasmine. The night is quiet, save for the distant, rhythmic hum of the integration school’s physical training grounds.
Kade steps out onto the balcony, carrying a second mug of tea. He hands it to me, his movements slightly stiff, his left sleeve pinned neatly to his chest. H
