Goodbyes and Callings

The light had shifted.
It crept higher through the window now, warming the air and tracing gentle lines across her cheek. Rose stirred, her fingers twitching in his grasp. A faint murmur slipped past her lips before she blinked awake.

Her eyes lifted toward him, still heavy with sleep — and then, just for a second, they widened.
Kai had been staring back the whole time.

She straightened in the chair, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, then quickly wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re awake,” she said softly.

He smiled faintly. “So are you.”

Their hands were still connected. She noticed only when he did — hesitated, then slowly pulled away. The warmth lingered even after.

“Your color’s back,” she said, voice quiet but steady as she scanned him. “No longer looking like a volcano… You look—”
“Normal?” he offered with a crooked grin.
“Better than normal.” Her gaze drifted briefly to the faint lines across his skin. “Minus the scars.”

He huffed out a small laugh. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

For a moment, the room felt lighter. The air between them unspoken, but easier somehow. Then her expression sobered again.

“Kai,” she said, her tone lowering, “you should stay here for a while. Don’t go to class. Don’t walk the halls. Not yet.”

He frowned, sitting up fully. “Because of the tether?”

“Because no one can know.” She leaned back slightly, folding her arms. “I have the highest expectations in the Academy. They’ll ask questions. The second anyone sees me in the halls and realizes I’m stabilized—that I’m no longer glowing—they’ll start wondering. And then the real mystery begins: ‘Who did the White Cloak tether with?’ You don’t want to be part of that.”

He let out a small exhale. “So I’m supposed to play dead?”

“Pretend you are, yes,” she nodded. “The last anyone saw of you was the final stage of your mana eating away at you. Let them think you passed, and your body was removed by the faculty—like they do with all fallen Stabilizers. It won’t be long.”

Her gaze drifted toward the window, where faint bands of refracted light crossed the distant spires of the Academy. “Once they confirm I’m stabilized, I’ll be free. They can’t bind me to the Academy anymore. I can finally leave.”

He studied her closely. “You’re serious about going beyond the walls.”

“The Wild Cities,” she said softly. “I know… something is telling me that if I just find that familiar place—”

He raised a brow. “What do you mean, familiar place?”

She turned to him abruptly. “Nothing! It’s just like I told you before—I’m being called. Pulled. And I believe the answer lies somewhere ordinary people can no longer reach.”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. “Then I’m going with you.”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“You saved me,” he said quietly. “You tethered with me when you didn’t have to. I’m not letting you walk into that alone.”

For a moment, she said nothing. Her eyes searched his—then, finally, she smiled. It was faint, but real.

“I was going to ask you anyway,” she murmured.

The wind brushed the curtains, carrying in a hint of spring air.
For the first time in years, neither of them felt trapped by the walls of the Academy.

“Hang tight,” Rose said quietly as she adjusted her sleeve.

Kai gave a slow nod. She didn’t need to say anything else. They’d already decided.

“I’ll come get you when it’s time.”

With that, she turned and slipped through the door, closing it gently behind her.

The halls outside were calm — the kind of quiet that only came before sunrise fully took hold. Her boots clicked softly against the marble as she walked, steps light but certain.

A few early risers noticed her passing.
“Wait— is that Rose?” one whispered.
“She’s not glowing,” the other murmured back. “Her eyes… they’re blue.”

Their voices trailed behind her as she kept moving, expression unreadable.

By the time she reached the advanced dorms, the air had shifted — the faint scent of roasted beans and polished wood hung in the corridor.

Simon stood by a tall window, coffee cup in hand, his butler waiting dutifully beside him. He turned slightly at the sound of footsteps.
For a heartbeat, he said nothing — just watched as Rose passed, the morning light cutting across her robes.

He handed the cup to his butler. “That’ll be all.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the servant stepped away, Simon’s gaze followed her until she disappeared around the corner toward her room. His jaw tightened — not from anger, but something close to realization.

Alice waited by the door, hands folded neatly in front of her apron. Her eyes were closed — just resting — until the faint echo of footsteps stirred her awake.

She straightened immediately, posture perfect, and the moment she saw who it was, she dipped her head.
“Lady Rose.”

“Morning, Alice,” Rose replied softly. “I need your help with something.”

Alice blinked once — her composure faltering as her eyes met Rose’s. The golden glow that once defined her was gone. Rose noticed the silent shock that crossed her maid’s face and gave a faint smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.

Alice lowered her gaze again and nodded, wordless but loyal, stepping aside as Rose passed.

“I need to write a letter,” Rose continued, her tone calm yet distant.

Alice followed her inside and quietly closed the door behind them.

The room was still — curtains drawn, the soft hum of the morning distant beyond the glass. Rose sat at her desk, pulling out two sheets of parchment from the drawer. Alice wordlessly set down the ink and quill before her, as if she had already anticipated the need.

Rose hesitated for a moment, fingers brushing the edge of the page. Then, she began to write.

Her handwriting was steady — elegant, precise — yet each line carried weight. She wrote of her tether. Of her decision to leave the Academy. Of how the faculty could not detain a stabilized tethered, and how she intended to use that right immediately. She didn’t explain where she was going, only that she needed to. That she was being called.

Alice stood quietly by the desk, watching the ink spread across the parchment. When Rose finally lifted the quill, the silence between them deepened.

“Deliver this to my parents,” Rose said, sealing the letter with the academy’s wax. “Make sure it’s done discreetly.”

Alice accepted the letter with both hands, bowing slightly. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she hesitated, her gaze softening. “Is that all, milady?”

Rose’s eyes lowered. “No…” she murmured, drawing the second sheet closer. “There’s one more.”

Her movements slowed. The ink moved gentler now, deliberate — each word carefully chosen, shorter, quieter. When she was done, she sealed it with less force, the mark pressed faintly into the wax.

She held it out. “Give this one to Celia.”

Alice blinked, realization dawning across her face. She knew.

The maid took both letters, tucking them carefully into the pouch stitched into her uniform. Her voice, usually steady, trembled slightly as she bowed her head. “It’s been an honor serving you, milady.”

Rose turned to her — the woman who had been by her side since childhood — and a small tear escaped before she could stop it.

Alice quickly drew a handkerchief, dabbing it away. “Excuse me,” she said softly, giving Rose a brief, warm smile. Her own eyes shimmered faintly, betraying the quiet emotion she carried.

Rose stepped forward, wrapping her arms around the maid in a slow, lingering embrace. For a moment, neither spoke. Alice’s hands trembled slightly before they steadied against Rose’s back, holding her as she had years ago when Rose was small. It lasted only a breath longer than it should have — long enough to say everything words could not.

When they finally parted, Alice’s composure had already returned. She bowed again, this time holding it longer, as Rose steadied her own breath.

Rose gave one final nod, straightening herself before walking toward the door.

The light caught her eyes as she opened it — blue and clear, untouched by gold or expectation. For the first time, there was no glow. No burden.
Only choice.

Rose continued into the now lightly populated advanced dorm. More students had left their rooms, heading toward morning classes. Some lingered, dining on breakfast treats beside their maids or butlers. The marble beneath her boots echoed softly with each careful step as she made her way toward the dean’s office. 

Corridors buzzed with quiet murmurs, pairs and groups greeting one another good morning, yet Rose kept her head high, her steps deliberate but light, trying to avoid the gazes that followed her. The more she walked, the more her name was murmured behind her.

She reached the dean’s office and knocked firmly.

“Yes?” Came a groggy voice.

The dean opened the door, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. The rich scent of coffee filled the room, cutting through the faint morning chill. He paused, blinking at her. His surprise was clear — her eyes were calm blue, no glow remaining.

“Rose,” he said slowly. “You… look different.”

She stepped in, and he closed the door behind her. “I’ve tethered,” she said simply. “I’ve informed my parents. They are aware.”

The dean’s brow furrowed. “With which stabilizer?”

She shook her head. “That information doesn’t matter. Only my parents need to know.”

He settled into his chair, sipping his coffee. “So… you’re done here? Will you attend class?”

Her eyes met his, steady and unyielding. “I’ve nothing more to learn here. I am the strongest. Now that I’m tethered, I am allowed to leave. I am leaving today.”

He set the cup down, voice measured but cautious. “Could you at least stay for the day? Just until we… understand more?”

Rose’s expression hardened, her voice firm, almost commanding. “I need no delay. Confirm my tether, and I will leave immediately. No exceptions.”

The dean studied her for a long moment before nodding, conceding. “Very well. It is confirmed.”

Without another word, Rose turned and left, the morning light catching her eyes as she moved through the hallway, each step purposeful.

Halfway to the basic dorms, a familiar figure intersected her path. Simon, holding an open book, paused, noticing her.

“You look different,” he said quickly, adjusting his glasses with one hand.

Rose walks past him. “Hello, Simon,” she replied, voice calm, almost detached.

He tilted his head, reading her carefully. “You’re just going to leave without saying goodbye to her, aren’t you?”

Rose stopped; the words weighed on her. She turned toward him, meeting his gaze with a steadiness that held the storm inside her. 

“Please… look after Jade.”

Simon’s eyes lowered, giving a quiet, understanding reassurance.

Without another word, Rose pivoted and continued toward the basic dorms. Simon turned away as well, lifting the book back to his face.