Ranvir and Shiri hung back in the hallway, letting Vasso and Laila have their goodbyes. Though Ranvir wasn’t sure how much longer he would to wait. Both teenagers were clearly tired, but still talking enthusiastically.

“You gotta do something,” Shiri muttered, stifling a yawn.

“Me?”

“Well, you’re his dad. Get in there and pull him out.”

“You’re her chaperone. It’s your job to get in and break them up.”

Shiri pouted crossed her arms and pouted at him, leaning against the wall. She blinked wearily a couple times. Sighing, Ranvir straightened and coughed loudly into his hand.

Vasso glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening slightly. Laila had an equally scared expression. Vasso’s turned to one of determination, while Laila’s turned to indignation. They clearly turned their attention towards ending the night, though.

“See, that wasn’t that hard.”

Ranvir rolled his eyes at her, but didn’t bother replying. This once was fine.

At the door, they were finally finishing their farewells when Laila suddenly ducked in and pecked Vasso on the cheek. He let out a choked exclamation from the back of his throat. The door slammed before he could even close his mouth.

Shiri let out an ‘aw’ and cupped her cheeks. “That was sweet, though I would’ve expected Vasso to initiate.”

“Really?” Ranvir stared at her, eyes piercing into her memory. He willed her to remember.

Her cheeks reddened. She remembered. Hopping away from the wall, she hurried to the door. Passing Vasso, who stumbled over the dark stone as if in a haze, she glanced over her shoulder once before slipping in to an immediate shriek of excitement.

“How are you doing?” Ranvir asked, pressing a widespread hand between Vasso’s shoulder blades. He shrugged and let Ranvir lead him on.

They walked for a few minutes, heading towards the exit before Ranvir swept them into space. The moment he reached out to space, Vasso looked up at him.

“Could we stay here for a while? I think I need a moment or something.”

Ranvir smiled and nodded. “Of course.” Was it a coincidence? Did he simply snap out of it, or did he somehow pick up on my power? It was impossible to tell, and now clearly wasn’t the right time to ask. Regardless, he probably didn’t realize he’d felt anything, if that was what he somehow did.

They walked out of the school, early evening hammering them with a gust full of winter promises. A hint of the rain that had been coming down still lingered in the wind. Even Ranvir, who’d grown up with this kind of weather, shivered. It seemed to be the final push to wake Vasso back up.

“Did she really…” he trailed off, looking up at him with eyes wide and dark in the night.

“She kissed you.”

Vasso had a conflicted look on his face. He looked down out onto the grass fields and gingerly reached up to touch his cheek. In the failing light of the moon, Vasso's cheeks creased at a smile. He turned back to Ranvir, fighting valiantly to keep the smile from his face. He couldn’t keep it out of his eyes, however. Not that pursing your lips to the side, the edges constantly twitching outward.

“Thank you,” he said after failing to master himself and giving up. “I couldn’t have planned it without you.”

“I loved doing it,” Ranvir said, looking around. The night wasn’t so pervasive and dark to his eyes, nor was it as cold as the initial wind made it seem. “You look like you want to be alone for a bit. Is that right?”

Vasso nodded hesitantly.

Ranvir reached into a pocket-space and retrieved his biggest and furriest blanket. “Half a flare?” he asked.

“Thanks Dad,” Vasso said, taking the blanket and wrapping himself tightly. The furs were so big he had enough space to sit on after wrapping himself securely.

“I have to tell Frija something, though.”

Vasso flinched at the realization. “Not too much?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Ranvir laughed and ruffled his hair, then snapped away into a travel-space. The warm, slightly moist air of Limclea enveloped him as he stepped out in front of his house. Entering the even warmer insides, he shook off the last of Elusria’s autumn air.

“Hey Mr. Wings.”

Ranvir looked over at the dark-haired girl lounging across two dinner chairs, a book in hand. The orphan was in her late teens, just on the edge of moving into her own. Ranvir gave her a little wave. “How’s Frija?”

“She didn’t want to sleep until you guys came back,” the babysitter said, not once looking up from her book. “I told her she has to be in bed.”

Ranvir nodded, which the girl didn’t see, and headed up the stairs. He heard Menace’s soft call as the first step creaked. By the time he reached the second-floor landing, the big cat was purring up a storm.

The sound seemed to almost strike him as a physical blow as Ranvir opened the door.

“Daddy, how did it go? I wanted to come.”

Ranvir grinned and sat down with her. He had to shove Menace over to get enough space to sit. He didn’t tell her everything and what he said often lingered too long on his and Shiri’s interactions. It was late, however, and Frija couldn’t withstand the supreme cuddles and purring of Menace for long.

“Half a flare more?” Ranvir asked, entering the kitchen.

“You’re taking me home, then.”

“Deal.” he put another few keys on the table, which the babysitter promptly snapped up. “See ya.”

Wintry winds and wet verdure soon met Ranvir as he once more sat foot on Elusrian soil. He peered at Vasso. In the dark, the boy hadn’t noticed his arrival. It wasn’t yet time to pick him up, so Ranvir let him. He could use a bit of time alone himself.

The day of watching over Vasso and Laila had been less painful than he’d feared. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with Shiri, but had built her up in his head to be more timid than she actually was.

He’d realized then that he’d been building her up as a rare porcelain figure, prone to breaking. Perhaps his early interactions hadn’t helped the impression overly much. His outburst when she asked for a way back into Frija’s life, a time and place where she’d rightfully been walking as if on thin ice. Then he’d fought and to a degree overwhelmed the Lord she worked for, the strongest person she knew.

But that hadn’t painted a fair picture of Shiri. She hadn’t been pressured away by fear of him. She’d persevered enough that Ranvir couldn’t keep having her around and not explain it to Frija. At which point, they also had to get to know each other.

She didn’t have any powers, though Kirs was working on a ritual to cement the tether into the scarred spirit of someone who’d failed. Depending on the situation, Amanaris might seed itself as well. Though that was heavy if and would likely require a bit of training.

Without practice, she’d never get much use of the powers, anyway. What kind would serve her best? Something rock based, probably. Something tough and strong, unlikely to break.

Ranvir shook his head dismissively as he came around the corner of the school. The workers who’d built the interior had also reinforced and trimmed up the facade on all the sides. Installing the windows had required a bit of trickery, but Ranvir had managed it.

Even now, he could see a few with lights burning past the shutters. One window near the far wall had two people using small amounts of power. It appeared to be some sort of contest of tricks.

That was what he’d designed the school for. Not for students and teachers, but for people to teach and learn from each other. He was just still getting it up and running. Once it was, he predicted brilliant innovations.

If he had to bridge the different plane, then perhaps he could shake them all up enough that no one thought to take advantage. It was a long shot. So long Pashar had laughed at him as he explained it, but she hadn’t dismissed the potential.

A pair of shutters opened on the second floor, lights briefly illuminating a fall of red hair before she retreated.

“Alright time to bed. You’ll have to be fresh for whatever’s in store for tomorrow,” Shiri said.

Laila’s muttered response was vague enough to be in agreement, but sluggish enough to be unwilling. He continued walking down the side of the school, getting closer. “Goodnight Laila. I’ll still be cleaning up a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Laila’s agreement was more eager this time, but Ranvir still heard the shut of doors.

Shiri appeared in the window once more, draping a cloth over the side, Laila’s dress. She brushed it with quick, efficient strokes, her lips pursed, brow slightly drawn. It only took her a few moments before she finished and pulled it back inside.

She looked out of the window. Ranvir’s heart suddenly raced in his chest, but she wasn’t looking directly at him. She didn’t see him at all; he realized. Despite his eyes, the light in their apartments must be too much to overcome the darkness. Nor were his eyes glowing that brightly when he wasn’t actively using more than a trickle.

At the moment, he was only sustaining a couple of storage-spaces, so his eyes were noticeably purple but not glowing.

Shaking his head. You’re acting like Vasso, he admonished himself, turning to move on as a light voice flew past him on the breeze.

“I wouldn’t dare compare her to the dawn,

For fear of the sun wrath sworn.”

Ranvir froze, glancing over his shoulder at the still open shutters. Shiri’s voice was much lighter than the bard’s. It wasn’t as present as the trained singer, not as melodious as the musician’s, but it grabbed Ranvir’s attention much tighter despite the lack.

It’s a popular song, Ranvir told himself. It gets caught in the ear, that’s all.

Still, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t tear his feet from the soil upon which he’d suddenly been rooted. Shiri’s voice wavered, stuttered, and shook as she moved, clearly working, but that only made it even more real.

As she approached the end of the song, she once more appeared in the window and, with a last grunt, reached out and snapped the shutters back, cutting off her song.

A wind cut through Ranvir’s coat and shirt, biting into his flesh reminiscent of Loce. The wet grass and slightly muddy soil soaked and stuck to his boots. He massaged the dry and hard skin of his vulture hand and stared up into the empty night. Only the failing light of a half-visible moon to greet him.

In the distance, the sound of a building-sized glass pane shattered. The noise blew past Ranvir like a physical wave of force, staggering him as much as Shiri’s song had.