Kael woke up early the next morning to prepare for his trip with Cassandra. After washing up, he tended to Ausma, who sat calmly on the windowsill, his golden eyes following his every move.
"I'll be gone for a few hours," Kael murmured as he brushed a hand over the falcon's feathers. Ausma blinked slowly and quietly, as if he understood.
Kael moved to his wardrobe and hesitated. He had told Cassandra to hide her hair and face. I should do the same. My appearance draws just as much attention.
He grabbed a dark hooded cloak and pulled it over his head. "All right," he breathed, casting one last glance at Ausma. "See you soon."
The dormitory corridor was silent as he stepped out, and cold air slipped through the cracked windows and loose frames. Paper scraps shifted across the floor. Kael ignored them; his mind was already on the day ahead.
Outside, rain greeted him, soft droplets tapping against his hood and skin. Perfect scouting weather, he thought dryly as he pulled his hood lower and headed toward the gate.
Ahead of him, under a thin tree that barely shielded her, stood Cassandra. Her hair was slightly damp and shone gold beneath the gray sky. Everything else was hidden by a long, refined coat. When she sensed him, she turned and offered her polished, practiced smile.
"What a wonderful day for a stroll outside," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Kael managed an apologetic half-smile. "I couldn't imagine a better one."
"Let's just get this over with," she muttered, spinning on her heel and walking toward the gate. Rain trailed down her coat.
Kael fell a few paces behind. "You're not a fan of the rain, I take it?"
She glanced back at him with a faint smile. "Let's just say rain makes it hard for a bird to fly."
A quiet settled between them as they continued toward the gate, not awkward, but calm. The steady patter of rain filled the silence, falling softly and rhythmically against stone and earth.
When they arrived, a knight stood guard with his visor lifted, his eyes full of boredom. "State your purpose," he said flatly.
Cassandra lowered her hood. Her golden hair spilled free, catching the little light the gray sky offered. She remained poised and calm.
The knight recognized her instantly. His spine straightened, and his boredom vanished. "Lady Cassandra," he breathed, bowing slightly. "How may I assist you?"
"I wish to leave the academy for a short while. Shopping." She lifted her hood again as if showing him her face for a moment were a favor.
"Of course, my lady." He stepped aside immediately.
Cassandra walked forward without pause. Kael followed, or tried to. The knight's arm shot out, barring his path.
"You are not of noble status." His tone returned to cold neutrality. "You may not leave."
Kael opened his mouth to respond, but Cassandra was already beside him again, her voice smooth as silk.
"Yes, he is a nobody," she said, almost lazily. Then, winking at the knight, she added, "But he will be carrying my bags. I would never burden these noble hands with such trivial tasks."
The knight straightened up even more, if that was possible. "Forgive me, my lady. I did not realize."
He withdrew his arm.
They walked on in silence until the academy gate was far behind them and obscured by the rain and distance.
"A packhorse, really?" Kael muttered, his voice low with irritation.
Cassandra chuckled softly. "Consider it revenge for earlier," she teased, setting a light pace down the path toward the outer district.
Some time later, Kael's brow furrowed as he glanced at the unfamiliar buildings rising around them. Cassandra noticed immediately and smirked. "What is it? Already lost?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement.
Kael's expression stiffened. So much for Zaros's brilliant explanation. Just walk straight ahead, huh? In reality, the road was a maze of branching alleys and uneven streets.
He ignored her comment, which only seemed to entertain her further.
Cassandra watched him from the corner of her eye, a soft laugh escaping her. "It's adorable when you're offended, you know?"
Kael shot her a look of disbelief and restraint, but he chose not to respond.
Cassandra chuckled softly, but her gaze soon drifted down the rain-soaked street. Only the steady patter of raindrops filled the silence between them.
"You know..." she began, her voice distant. "I used to love the rain."
Kael looked at her, surprised by the change in tone.
"When I was little, I'd run outside the mansion whenever it rained," she continued. Her lips curved into a fragile smile, the kind you wear when the memory hurts but you hold onto it anyway. "I'd try to catch the drops in my hands, and my sister would chase after me. She'd lift me onto her shoulders so I could 'reach the sky,' as she used to say."
She raised her hand, palm open to the rain, and tilted her gaze upward. Kael couldn't see her eyes, but her voice grew quiet and steady, like falling water.
"Back then, rain felt like freedom. Like the world was soft and endless." Her fingers trembled slightly. "Now it feels like mourning. As if the sky cries with me."
She turned to him then. For the first time, Kael saw her without her mask; her sadness was raw and unguarded.
"You asked why I spoke to you in the library." She exhaled slowly and shakily. "It was your face. The grief in your eyes... I recognized it. I live with it every day. I thought that by helping you with your sorrow, I might quiet my own."
A faint, broken laugh escaped her lips. "But you make me laugh again. Smile again. I haven't done that since…"
Her voice faded into the rain.
Kael swallowed. "What happened?"
Cassandra's breath hitched before she continued. "She died," she said simply. "She was a brilliant chronicler. The best of her year." Something warm flickered in her expression—pride, love, and loss. "She dreamed of uncovering the truth of the mysteries. She told me stories every night and swore she'd change the world with knowledge."
Her voice darkened.
"Then she disappeared. Two weeks later, they found her body in the outer district." Rain slid down her cheek. Whether it was water or tears, Kael couldn't tell. "They never told me everything, but I know enough. What they did to her..." Her voice cracked, then hardened like steel. "My mother never recovered. And neither did I."
She stepped closer, too close, until her breath brushed his cheek. Her eyes were fierce enough to cut through bone. "They say rebels killed her," she whispered, her voice trembling with rage. "Because she was too gifted. Too dangerous."
Her gaze bore into his.
"So don't think you're the only one haunted by feelings you don't understand."