Chapter Ten #2
Cassara didn’t stop and turned her attention instead to Oliver. “There you are, Straton,” she said with exaggerated relief, weaving through the small crowd. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We’ve got ACS repairs, remember? Hope you haven’t wasted too much time.”
Oliver blinked at her like she’d started speaking another language.
Verena folded her arms. "Interesting choice of allies, Allencourt. Since when do you waste time on dead weight? Thought you were more practical than that."
Cassara's smile turned cold. "I am practical. Which is why I know talent when I see it. You clearly don't."
A few scattered chuckles from the surrounding students punctuated the silence that followed. Verena’s glare darkened.
Cassara turned to Oliver and gave him a meaningful look. “Coming?”
He hesitated for a breath, then nodded stiffly. Cassara took his arm and walked him away without another word. He didn’t resist, not until they rounded the next corner and the sound of voices faded behind them.
He jerked his arm back immediately, expression drawn tight with irritation. “You didn’t need to do that.”
Cassara blinked, confused by his sudden hostility. “You’re welcome?”
He glared. “Don’t act like that was about me. You just saw a chance to put Verena in her place and used me to do it. If it had been anyone else but her, you’d have kept walking.”
The words hit sharper than she expected, and worse, he wasn’t entirely wrong. She probably wouldn’t have gotten involved if she hadn’t heard Verena’s voice. But still…
“That’s not true,” she said, following as he turned and stalked off toward the west wing archway. “I mean—maybe I noticed because it was her, but I wasn’t just—”
He didn’t slow.
Cassara scowled and picked up her pace. “Look, I actually do want to work on the ACS repairs. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t mean it.”
He shot her a skeptical glance over his shoulder. “Really? Because you didn’t look all that interested in class yesterday.”
Cassara crossed her arms, trying to look more indignant than flustered. “Well, I am now.”
“Why?”
“Because—” Her voice caught. “Because my pride won’t let me turn in shoddy work or let someone else do it for me. And because I’m your partner, and I don’t like looking like I coasted.”
Oliver slowed, frowning, then finally stopped. “You’re serious.”
“I just said I was.”
He studied her a moment longer, then gave a small, begrudging sigh. “Fine. Meet me in the library in an hour. Bring the component Fenric gave you.”
Cassara lifted her chin, victorious. “I will.”
He turned without another word and walked off.
Cassara watched him go, then muttered under her breath, “You’re welcome, again,” before heading off in the opposite direction.
The library's quiet wrapped around her as she stepped through the arched entrance, swallowing the sound of her boots the moment she crossed the rune-etched threshold.
She paused when she reached the central reading circle, gaze drifting upward to the great dome overhead.
Starlight filtered through the glass and shimmered through the slow-turning lens above, scattering refracted constellations across the high ceiling like a celestial map in motion.
A magelight drifted by like a curious firefly, its glow soft and golden.
Cassara found a bench near the edge of the circle, setting her satchel beside her.
The broken ACS component clinked faintly as she pulled it out.
She stared at it for a moment, brow furrowing, then pulled the repair schematic she’d copied onto her ‘Dex. She didn’t understand half of it, and she hated that.
A book passed by on its own, hovering lazily before one of the higher shelves, pages fluttering, before it slid itself into a slot Cassara could’ve sworn hadn’t been there a moment before.
This place was alive, intuitive and watching.
She smiled faintly and leaned back against the cushions. “Don’t suppose you have a tutorial for being less humiliated in front of a boy who thinks you’re ornamental,” she murmured under her breath.
The library, wisely, offered no comment.
She heard him before she saw him, his steps quiet and unhurried, prompting her to look up as Oliver approached, his uniform jacket hanging open, his ever-present case tucked under one arm.
“You’re early,” he noted, as if mildly surprised.
“Believe it or not,” Cassara said, lifting the ACS rig slightly, “I do actually want to learn how this thing works.”
Oliver didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked from her to the broken component in her hand, then to the schematic she’d laid out.
Finally, he sat beside her with a soft sigh and began pulling tools from his kit.
“Fine,” he said. “But if you blow something up, I’m blaming you twice, once for the fire, and again for pretending you knew what you were doing.”
Cassara couldn’t help but grin. “Fair enough.”
She didn’t thank him, not aloud, but she leaned in when he started explaining, elbows braced on the wooden desk, her brows already drawn in tight concentration. Oliver began with the basics—terms she half-recognized from class, though they slid through her memory like water through cupped hands.
“The conduit array regulates mana output through sync channels. These,” he gestured to the coiled wires and slotted plates in the open ACS rig between them, “are your resonance filters. If the signal bleeds, the rig doesn’t know what to reinforce.”
Cassara stared at the tangle of etched metal and glowing crystal like it had personally insulted her. “…That’s not English.”
Oliver sighed. Not loudly, but enough.
She straightened, crossing her arms. “I’m trying.”
“I know.” He rubbed his temples, then adjusted the angle of the schematic. “Okay. Think of it like this, you’re dancing with your beast. If you’re off-beat, the music’s distorted. The filters are the sheet music. They help the system know what steps to amplify and what to ignore.”
Cassara blinked. “So these,” she pointed to the smaller etched nodes, “are like… tuning forks?”
His eyes flicked to her, surprised. “Exactly.”
“Huh.” She tilted her head, the concept starting to click. “And if one’s off, the whole thing wobbles.”
“Worse,” he muttered, pulling a cracked filter from the unit. “It shatters. And takes you with it.”
Cassara winced as he set the tiny shard on the desk, the edges faintly scorched. “This happened to someone?”
Oliver didn’t answer right away. “…Once.”
Something in his tone made her pause, but she didn’t press. Instead, she shifted closer, watching as he carefully replaced the broken piece with a new one. His hands were steady, movements precise. When he spoke again, his voice had softened.
“Here. You try.” He passed her the replacement and the alignment tool.
Cassara hesitated. “If I break it…”
“You won’t,” he said, not unkindly. “I’m watching.”
Her fingers weren’t as sure as his, but they didn’t tremble. She followed his instructions slowly, carefully seating the crystal with the prongs of the tool until it clicked into place.
It glowed faintly: blue, steady.
Oliver began packing his tools away with methodical precision, each piece slotted into its designated place in his kit. Cassara watched him work, the question forming before she could stop it.
"Why are you here?"
Oliver's hands stilled for just a moment, then continued their careful arrangement. "Vallemont?"
"You're good with this," she gestured to the repaired ACS rig between them. "Really good. You could be at the Arcanum studying magitek engineering, or any of the universities. So why beast taming?"
He was quiet for a moment, closing the tool case with a soft click, then opened it again to adjust tools that didn't need adjusting.
"Does it matter?" he said finally.
"I'm curious."
"Why?"
Cassara shrugged. "Because you don't seem like someone who'd choose this path. You seem like someone who got stuck with it."
For a moment she thought he wouldn't answer at all, that he'd just stand up and leave. But instead he set the tool case down and stared at it.
"I didn't choose it," he said quietly. "My older brother was supposed to be here. Ansel. He was good at this, the combat, all of it. He was born for it."
Past tense.
"There was an accident two years ago," Oliver continued, his voice flat and careful. "He survived, but his leg… it didn't heal right. It can't handle the physical demands anymore." He exhaled slowly. "So my parents decided I'd take his place. Carry on the family legacy."
"And you just... agreed?"
Oliver's smile was bitter. "What was I supposed to do? Tell them no? That I'd rather build things than fight with them?" He shook his head. "The Straton family has sent tamers to Vallemont for five generations. Someone had to continue that."
Cassara studied him, seeing the weight he carried more clearly now. "That's not fair to you."
"Fair doesn't matter." Oliver picked up his case and stood. "It's done. I'm here."
She wanted to say more, to tell him it wasn't too late to choose differently, but the closed expression on his face stopped her. She could tell that he had shared more than he'd intended to already.
"For what it's worth," she said instead, "you're better at this than you think."
Oliver paused at the edge of the desk, glancing back at her. Surprise, or perhaps gratitude flickered across his face.
"Thanks," he said. Then he turned and left, his footsteps quiet against the library's enchanted floors.
Cassara sat alone for a moment longer, the repaired ACS rig still glowing faintly beside her.
She tried to imagine it. Being here, in this place she'd fought so hard to reach, and not wanting it at all. Waking up every day to pursue someone else's dream while your own gathered dust in some corner of your mind you weren't allowed to touch.
It was the future she faced if she failed.
Cassara gathered her things slowly, tucking the ACS rig carefully into her satchel. The library hummed quietly around her, whisperlamps drifting overhead in their lazy patterns.