Dawn crept slowly across the grounds, a faint gold settling over Pine Hollow, hovered over the yard, clinging to stone paths and garden beds. Most students were still snoring into their pillows.

  Ermin rarely took morning walks, but something about the crisp air pulled him outside.

  He stepped around the corner of the dorm, adjusting his scarf—

  —and froze.

  Francis was already there.

  Kneeling beside the herb patch with a small trowel, breath puffing in the cold.

  Which was strange. Francis never tended his garden in winter.

  Ermin opened his mouth to comment—

  Then he saw them.

  Two silhouettes curled together at the base of the rock hill.

  Trey and Luna.

  Trey’s coat was wrapped around both of them.

  Luna’s head rested on his shoulder.

  Trey leaned against her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Both fast asleep, completely dead to the universe.

  Ermin exhaled softly. “…Ah.”

  Francis didn’t look up. “Found them like this when I stepped out.”

  Ermin stepped closer, careful not to wake them.

  Trey looked different.

  He wasn’t curled inward the way he had been these past days.

  His brow wasn’t tight with guilt.

  His breathing was slow, steady.

  Peaceful.

  Ermin whispered, “He hasn’t slept like that since… well. Since before Mid Defrost.”

  Francis gave a long, slow blink. “Isn’t it a bit creepy that you know how he sleeps?”

  Ermin didn’t even look embarrassed. “I’m his professor. I observe my students.”

  “That,” Francis deadpanned, “makes it sound worse.”

  They stood there in quiet, watching the rise and fall of Trey’s shoulders—steady, unburdened for the first time in months.

  Ermin let out a long breath, relief softening the lines of his face.

  “…So. You think she helped him?”

  Francis didn’t hesitate. “I know she did.”

  Ermin studied the medic for a moment. “You’ve been worried.”

  “Terrified,” Francis admitted. “He hides it well. Too well sometimes. But last night…”

  He gestured toward the sleeping pair.

  Ermin nodded slowly. “She got him to talk?”

  “I guess so.”

  A tired smile ghosted across Francis’s face.

  “She’s stubborn. Reckless. And absolutely terrible at letting anyone help her. So of course she’s perfect for him.”

  Ermin huffed. “Chaos attracts chaos.”

  “Balance,” Francis corrected quietly. “She steadies him. And he—”

  He glanced at Luna’s hand, gently fisted in Trey’s coat.

  “—gives her a place to land.”

  Ermin’s gaze softened even more.

  “Well,” he murmured, “if this is the beginning of him healing… then be it.”

  Francis inhaled the cold morning air. “This time,” he said quietly, “I think he might actually get better.”

  Ermin gave one last nod toward the sleeping pair. “Let them rest.”

  Francis smiled faintly. “I wasn’t planning on waking them.”

  Side by side, the professor and the healer turned back toward the house, leaving Trey and Luna resting beneath the pale winter light, held in the quiet of a new morning.

  But before they reached the door, a figure trudged out from behind the stable.

  Blake.

  Hair messy, eyes half-open, gloves in hand. It was far too early even for him, but apparently punching rocks was “therapeutic.”

  He stopped mid-step, staring at the giant cocoon of coat and limbs near his punching post.

  “This,” he whispered, grin widening, “is gold.”

  Before Francis or Ermin could stop him, Blake planted his feet and—

  WHAM.

  slammed his fist into the rock right next to Trey’s head.

  Trey jolted awake with a strangled noise.

  “WHY—who—WHAT—” He twisted, panicked, then froze when he realized Luna was still asleep against him. “Oh no. Oh NO NO NO—”

  Blake beamed. “Good morning, lovebirds.”

  “Blake,” Trey hissed, “do not—”

  “Relax, man. I’m not calling anyone to watch—except BLUE—”

  “YOU DO NOT CALL BLUEBELL HERE!” Trey barked.

  Luna stirred at the noise. She blinked slowly—warm cognac eyes catching the sunlight, glimmering reddish gold.

  Then realization hit her.

  “Oh no—no no—” She tried to pull away.

  Trey did too.

  They both failed.

  Badly.

  Trey twisted. Luna yanked. The coat yanked back. Gravity betrayed them.

  Blake crossed his arms. “I won’t shout a word… under one condition.”

  Trey glared. “Why is there always a condition with you?”

  Blake smirked. “If you can free yourselves in under one minute, I won’t make any sound.”

  Chaos erupted instantly.

  They wrestled with the coat like two idiots trapped in a fabric monster.

  “Why is your coat this impossible to take off?!” Luna yelled.

  “It’s not the coat—it’s your hair!” Trey snapped.

  “EXCUSE ME?!”

  “It’s beautiful! It’s beautiful! It’s just—very grabby right now!”

  Blake watched them like a judge at a bizarre sport.

  Francis's lips curled up in amusement.

  Ermin looked like he aged three years.

  Finally — somehow — they broke free just as Blake’s imaginary timer dinged.

  He gave a slow, mocking clap.

  “Congrats on the wedding though.”

  “Shut up,” Luna croaked, face burning.

  Trey snorted—a soft, genuine laugh.

  Blake blinked in surprise.

  “…Huh. Haven’t heard that in a while.”

  Trey cleared his throat and immediately wrapped his coat around Luna’s shoulders.

  “Come on. We’re late for breakfast.”

  He steered her toward the house.

  Francis murmured to Ermin, “We’re going to need stronger tea.”

  “Absolutely,” Ermin sighed.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Saturday mornings at Pine Hollow were usually louder than weekdays, mostly because no one had the energy to pretend they were civilized.

  Trey and Luna slipped into the house dining room. Only a handful were awake—Abby, Bluebell, Abel, Reid half-asleep on the table, and Eve fully asleep on the table.

  Bluebell looked up the instant Luna walked in.

  “Isn’t your coat too big for you?”

  Abel, pouring tea, announced loudly, “That’s because it’s not hers. It’s Trey’s.”

  Every head turned.

  Trey rolled his eyes, nudged Luna into a chair, and marched off to get food like nothing had happened.

  Blake strode in as well, stretching. On his way past Abby, he snatched a toast right off her plate and took a large bite.

  “Blake!” Abby yelped.

  “This one’s burnt,” he said around the bite. “I’ll get you a better one.”

  “I like the burnt one!”

  Blake froze mid-step, shrugged, and held the half-eaten toast back to her. “Oh. Here. Take it back.”

  “What?!” Abby pushed his hand away.

  “Relax,” he snorted, wandering off. “I’ll get you a burnt new one.”

  Luna almost smiled. Chaos before breakfast was an official Pine Hollow tradition.

  Trey returned with two plates stacked so unnecessarily high it looked like a dare.

  Luna almost stood out of sheer reflex. “I do not need that much food.”

  “You do,” Trey said simply, setting both plates down.

  “I do not.”

  “Then I’ll eat the rest.”

  Francis, sitting down beside Reid, glanced between them the way a botanist observes rare plants.

  The door opened again. This time, Bridget entered in pajama bottoms, an oversized shirt, and hair defying gravity in three entirely different directions.

  Somehow, impossibly—she still looked gorgeous.

  Trey stared at her, dead serious.

  “You are blessed with that level of beauty and you treat it like this?”

  Bridget stopped mid-step, stunned. “I don’t need to look good for you, Trey.”

  Reid, still half-asleep, pointed at her. “You still look great despite that.”

  Bridget flipped her hair. “Exactly. This is why you’re the best. No offense, Luna, but since you’re turning into Trey’s female version—”

  “I am not!” Luna sputtered.

  Trey snorted. “Yeah, you kinda do.”

  Francis didn’t even look up from buttering his toast. “Couldn’t agree more.”

  Luna looked offended.

  And Pine Hollow’s dining room, as usual, erupted into Saturday-morning ridiculousness.

  Luna was the last to finish breakfast—thanks to Trey serving her an entire army’s ration. He’d finished ages ago, ate half of her plate, and was now lounging with Blake and Francis, arguing over which Monopoly token was “strategically superior.”

  Once Luna forced down the last piece out of obligation, Trey stretched and stood.

  “I’m gonna go crush those idiots in Monopoly,” he said, pointing a thumb toward the common room. “Come find me if you get lonely.”

  “I won’t,” Luna said.

  “Sure you won’t,” Trey smirked, ruffling her hair before jogging off

  Luna headed upstairs to change out of the enormous coat. Reid was also in the room, standing in front of the mirror, trying—and failing—to comb through her crimson hair like she was fighting a wild beast.

  She paused mid-yank. “Don’t say a word.”

  Luna blinked, changing into new clothes. “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Yes you were.”

  Luna hesitated, then cleared her throat. “Actually… I was hoping to ask you something.”

  Reid’s expression sharpened. “About?”

  “My Quanta.” Luna raised her hip on the desk. “I feel like water dulls it. You’re the only one I know who works with something… unique. I thought—maybe your experiences could help me.”

  Reid blinked, stunned for half a second. Then smirked. “Does Trey know about this?”

  Luna shook her head. “With everything going on with him, I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.”

  A wicked grin spread across Reid’s face.

  “So we’re doing this behind that idiot’s back.”

  She pointed the comb at Luna. “I’m in. One condition.”

  Luna groaned. “Why do you people love conditions so much?”

  Reid tossed the comb on the bed. “You help me test a new fire technique. Francis banned me.” She mimicked his voice terribly. “‘Burn marks are not badges of honor, Reid.’”

  “Sure,” Luna sighed. “Whatever you want. And you can ask me anytime, though. Those two can be ridiculously protective sometimes.”

  Reid threw her hands up dramatically. “RIGHT? I can’t even get a little scorched these days without Francis staring me down like I committed a war crime.”

  “Why would you want to get scorched—”

  “Whose side are you on actually?!”

  “Yours!” Luna said immediately. “Yours, obviously.”

  Reid nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now grab your boots—we’re sneaking out to the woods. There’s a lake I use to practice my fire.”

  Luna blinked. “How do you sneak in broad daylight, Reid?”

  “Easy.”

  Reid strode out of the room, Luna trailing nervously behind her. They stopped before the common room where the boys were shouting at each other about whose land was more beneficial, Bluebell was draped upside-down over a nearby sofa.

  Reid jerked her chin. “Bluebell. Distract them.”

  Bluebell flipped upright with the joy of someone receiving a secret mission.

  “Say no more.”

  She didn’t even ask why. It was like she’d been waiting her entire life for official permission.

  Two seconds later—

  KABOOM!

  A loud crash echoed from the common room, followed by a plume of bright green smoke spiraling toward the ceiling.

  Reid shoved Luna toward the back door. “Perfect! Move!”

  Luna barely had time to stumble through the back door before she glimpsed Abel lifting Bluebell by the collar like a misbehaving cat, hauling her toward the windows as the smoke thickened.

  Reid dragged Luna into sunlight.

  “See? Easy.” She said proudly.

  “You planned that?”

  “Absolutely not. But I knew she’d overachieve.”

  The woods opened into a clearing, revealing a round, glassy lake.

  “Right. We start with my problem first.” Reid declared.

  She stepped back, inhaled deeply, and snapped her fingers.

  A ribbon of flame burst to life—but not normally. It twisted into a spinning arc, hissed, sputtered, shot upward, and nearly clipped a branch before Reid yanked it back under control.

  Luna took three quick steps back.

  “You invented that?”

  “Yep.” Reid gritted her teeth as the fire spiraled around her arm. “Don’t ask how. It sounded cooler in my head.”

  It didn’t sound cool anymore—not when the flame suddenly expanded and almost incinerated both their sleeves.

  “REID!” Luna yelped, spinning away.

  “I KNOW, I KNOW—I’m fixing it—”

  The fire sputtered, shot sideways, and died with a sad hiss.

  Reid stood panting, hands on knees. “Okay. That was… eighty-five percent controlled.”

  “It nearly burned us alive.”

  “Eighty-five percent,” Reid repeated firmly.

  “And what do you want me to help you with?”

  I’m not letting you grill me today!

  “Ah, that.” Reid waved a hand. “I just want to show someone without being scolded.”

  Before Luna could comment, Reid pointed forward. “Your turn. Show me.”

  “Right.”

  Luna exhaled, snagged a random stick, and pulled her Quanta through it.

  “This is my blade projection,” she said.

  She swung. Multiple cuts slashed across a nearby tree, bark breaking apart in clean strips.

  “Francis said he saw me glow the same with or without a medium, and bright.”

  Reid nodded slowly, eyes flicking, processing every detail Luna gave.

  “Trey said I might be a universal Quanta user,” Luna continued. “Someone who can weaponize through any medium.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing before, but go on.”

  Luna dipped the stick into the shallow water, pulled her Quanta up again, and whipped it downward at the clay beneath.

  The water rippled.

  No cut on the clay.

  She tried again.

  Same result.

  “If I stay above water,” Luna said, raising her hand, “I can project blades, but the moment I try underwater, it dulls. The Quanta’s still there — faintly — but not strong. I can’t weaponize underwater.”

  Reid paced a little, arms crossed.“Huh… I’ve never seen that behavior.”

  “So your Quanta works find underwater?” Luna asked.

  “Inconclusive,” Reid admitted. “I use fire to project more fire. Failing it underwater wouldn’t prove anything. You can’t base anything on my case.”

  Luna stared at the lake, frustrated. “Trey’s mother told me to limit my variations until I find my real medium. Now I ended up finding one variation that limits me.”

  She tossed the stick into the water.

  Reid stopped dead in her tracks.

  Her brow knit tight. Her fingers tapped—a telltale sign of her brain firing at full speed.

  “That,” she said slowly, “was very useful information.”

  “Really?” Luna looked up, almost hopeful.

  Reid nodded. “You said you had to limit variations until you find your medium. And water dulls your Quanta. Meaning…” Her green eyes sharpened. “There’s something that isn’t in the water—but exists everywhere else. Something essential.”

  Luna blinked, trying to follow.

  “…What do you mean?”

  Reid inhaled once.

  “Luna…”

  “Yeah?”

  Reid held her gaze, steady and unflinching.

  “I think— I think your medium could be… air.”

  Everything inside Luna went still.

  Air.

  Air?

  “Air,” Luna whispered. “But—how—why— Is there any—”

  “No,” Reid cut in. “There’s never been any record of anyone using air before, but the pattern fits. You can project in open space. You even summoned a bomb out of thin air. And underwater? It dies, because there’s no air to carry through.”

  Luna felt the world tilt—her stomach dropping like the ground had shifted under her.

  “If that’s true… then—what does this mean for me?”

  Reid’s expression shifted, eyes sharp and serious, almost grim.

  “It means if your medium really is air, it’s powerful. Too powerful.” She stepped closer. “Not because it’s unique—because it’s everywhere. It’s limitless compared to metal, water, fire… anything.”

  Her voice dropped.

  “Elderwatch has been hunting for anomalies for years—anything that could shift power from the Crown.”

  Luna swallowed, jaw clenching.

  “If they find out a student can wield with the most abundant element on earth… they won’t see you as gifted.”

  Her voice lowered to barely a whisper.

  “They’ll see you as a threat.”

  Luna’s stomach twisted. “So I shouldn’t tell anyone?”

  Reid hesitated.

  Then she shook her head.

  “You can tell Trey and Francis,” she said. “Trey would throw himself into a dragon’s mouth for you, and Francis sees Quanta the way doctors see bleeding wounds. He’ll figure it out anyway.”

  Luna’s shoulders loosened slightly.

  “But,” Reid continued sharply, “you tell only them. Only. Them. No Ermin. No professors. No staff. No Pine Hollow idiots who gossip louder than they breathe.”

  Luna’s throat tightened, hands trembled with fear.

  Reid squeezed her shoulders. “So here’s the plan,” she said.“We keep testing. You tell Trey and Francis. But not another soul until we understand your Quanta completely.”

  Luna nodded shakily. “Okay.”

  Reid smirked. “And if anyone from Elderwatch comes sniffing around—”

  She cracked her knuckles.

  “—we set them on fire.”

  Luna choked. “Reid—”

  “Kidding,” Reid said.

  “…mostly.”