I couldn't explain it, but somehow, someway, my friend saw a path for himself. One, he had no intention of walking, and was terrified of being able to walk at all.
"He had all affinities," Kael said. "Or something close enough that the distinction stopped mattering. And what he became…" He exhaled softly. "I don't want that kind of strength, the type that turns people into nothing more but pawns for their own unique plans."
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then snorted.
Kael frowned faintly. "What?"
"That's gotta be the most you've ever said."
"What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? That isn't even a response."
"It is, though!" I shook my head, laughing and smiling despite the weight of the conversation. "Think about it. You witness an ancient, all-powerful catastrophe from some hidden history, and your reaction is basically..."
"I would like to optimise myself without becoming an immoral killing machine."
Kael went quiet for a beat.
Then, against his will, the corner of his mouth twitched.
"That is… unfairly accurate."
"It's because it is!"
The smile faded, but some of the heaviness in the room had settled down. Less like something pressing down from above. More like something shared.
I folded my arms on my desk and looked at Kael with more honesty than usual.
"Power's still power," I said.
Kael tilted his head slightly.
I stared at a grain of the desk for a moment before continuing.
"I don't want it for the same reason you do."
Kael didn't interrupt.
Once I started saying it, I realised how long the thought had been waiting.
"I don't care how far it goes," he said. "Not really. I mean, sure, being ridiculously strong sounds fun. But that's not the point."
He looked up.
"I just…" He swallowed. "I don't want my whole life to stay shaped by what nobles decide to do with it."
Kael didn't move.
So, I pressed on.
"In the Basin, at the trial, in the carriage, in the maze, it's always the same. Their mood. Their cruelty. Their interest. Their boredom. You live around it, and usually under it, because if they decide today is the day your life means less than their convenience, then that's just how the world works."
His jaw tightened.
"And I'm done with that."
The room was quiet except for the faint hum in the walls.
I looked away and laughed once, bitterly.
"Validation's probably the pathetic word for it."
Kael's answer came immediately.
"No."
I looked back at Kael and found his steady gaze on me.
"I don't think it's pathetic to want your life not to be defined by someone else's choices."
That statement left a deep impression on me, more than I thought it would. It was the first time someone openly accepted and understood my thinking.
I looked away, blinking once in surprise.
"Yeah, well," I muttered, "there you have it. That's my reason."
I rubbed the back of my neck and then added, but quieter this time, "No one listens to the weak."
Kael sat with that for a moment.
Then he stood up, walked over to his own desk, and started gathering up the books that were spread across it.
I frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Studying."
"You're going to study after everything we just talked about??"
Kael looked at him over his shoulder.
"Yes, so sit down and join me."
I blinked.
"… Right now?"
"Yes, it's not like you have anything else planned."
"Great. We're doing emotional growth and revising our education in the same afternoon?"
"I know, right? We're so efficient."
"..."
I groaned theatrically, but got up anyway and dragged my chair over.
Between us, the desk was filled with first-year texts, class notes, and one heavily annotated booklet on basic core flow mechanics that looked like Kael had already declared war on it with his pen. He was clearly winning.
For a while, we just studied.
It wasn't elegant.
It wasn't smooth
Honestly, I complained every six minutes.
Kael had corrected my annotations twice, then stopped after I threatened to scribble profanity on all his diagrams.
At one point, I read a paragraph aloud in a fake, pretentious voice until Kael said to me that if I continued, he would report me to the Academy for being illiterate.
The air between us was now warm, ordinary, and thankfully stupid.
It was exactly what we needed.
Eventually, while we were both looking over the same page of a theory, I tapped the margins of the book with the end of my pen.
"So," he said, lighter now, "going back to what we were talking about. You want strength to see how far you can take it."
Kael paused.
Then nodded once.
"Yes."
"But you want to do it carefully."
"Yes."
"So you don't end up becoming like that ancient mass murderer you saw over there in the dream world."
"It's Memory Relic, and that's one heck of a way of phrasing it."
I nodded as that had settled it.
Then Kael looked at me.
"And you want strength because you're tired of other people dictating what your life is worth."
My pen stopped moving.
"…Yeah."
Silence sat between them for a brief second.
Then Kael said, simply as fact:
"Then let's become people they can't ignore."
I looked at him.
The sentence was nothing dramatic. No oath. No grand speech.
But it was impactful anyway.
Because it was exactly the kind of thing Kael said when he meant it completely.
I leaned back in my chair slowly.
A grin spread across my face before I could stop it.
"Wow," I said, "that was... annoyingly cool."
Kael returned to his notes. "I'm a cool person."
I shook my head and laughed under my breath.
The room felt different now.
Lighter.
Steadier.
Like something had set properly into place.
I don't know much about friendship, but I do know that it isn't defined by a single moment. It was repetition. Trust accumulated in ordinary decisions. Sitting down when you could have stayed silent. Saying the ugly truth and not being punished for it. Sharing a desk. Sharing ambition and sharing the shape of what came next.
"… Oh, actually, I forgot to ask you."
Kael didn't look up when he began speaking.
"Ask me what?"
I frowned at one of the course slips sticking out from under one of his theory textbooks.
"Have you decided which elective you are picking?"
Kael glanced at the paper.
Then at me.
I stared back.
A second passed.
Then another.
"…Huh," I said, dumbfoundedly.