Chapter Four
He smiles. It’s not kind. Not triumphant, it’s sharper—like he knew this was how it would end all along, like he’d just been waiting for me to catch up. God, what have I just agreed to...
“Good. I’m glad we’ve settled that.” He stands and crosses to the door.
“Though of course,” he adds, glancing back with one hand on the handle, “you’ll still have to survive the month.
No guarantees you won’t die during Demonstrations, at the hands of your peers.
” His grin twists. “I’ve heard the cadets and officers aren’t particularly fond of Outerlanders around here.
But I’ve seen how you handle threats and I’m sure most won’t be a problem for you. ”
The door groans as he pulls it open, calling something over his shoulder to one of the officers outside. They respond with a nod and a quick gesture down the hall. Then he turns back to me.
“I’m Professor Merrin, by the way. High Chancellor here at the Citadel. And this,” he shifts, just enough for me to see the girl now standing behind him. “Is Cadet Ezrelia Caelwyn. A fellow second-year,” his gaze flicks to me, “and your new dorm mate.”
Ezrelia smiles, wide, bright, and a little nervous, like she can’t decide whether to curtsy or salute. White-blonde hair, almost as pale as her skin, bright blue eyes and dressed in a crisp black uniform that looks like it’s never seen dirt. Probably my age, but she reads younger. Innocent.
“Cadet Caelwyn’s previous dorm mate had an.
.. well, let’s just say there was an accident during a Demonstration last semester,” he says mildly.
“Which means a bed’s opened up. Luckily for you, she also happens to be one of our brightest students.
No surprise, really, considering both her parents were research academics here before they retired.
She’s hoping to follow in their footsteps, maybe even join our faculty one day.
So any questions you may have, you’re in expert company. ”
The blonde girl straightens at the compliment, hands smoothing down the front of her uniform and a flush creeps up her neck.
She wants to be part of this? Of them? God, give me a break. That’s not a dream—it’s a delusion. Guess some people really will drink the poison if you serve it in a gilded cup.
Merrin turns back to the door, then pauses and pivots toward the girl. The softness drains from his face; what’s left is precision, authority.
“Cadet Caelwyn,” he orders, “you will escort Cadet Bloom here to the Initiation Brief in a moment. You will also see to it that she catches up in class. As she is starting in second year she is already behind, and I won’t tolerate her falling further.
” She freezes under the weight of it, then manages a nod, too fast, too eager.
“She’ll be joining the Air Realm cohort with you.
I expect her to be fully integrated by week’s end. ”
“Yes, High Chancellor.” She swallows, the sparkly pin in her hair catching the light as she nods.
Merrin holds her there a beat longer, just long enough to make her flinch, then turns, red robes sweeping into the corridor. The door clicks shut behind him, loud and final. Like the deal’s been made, the lock turned, and the next month of my life just got sealed in stone.
I let my shoulders drop, jaw unclenching as the quiet settles, for half a second.
Then—
“It’s so nice to meet you!” Ezrelia’s beams, hands clutched tight like she might combust from the sheer pressure of wanting to impress. “So is it true?... Are you really from the Outerlands?”
I open my mouth to answer, but the girl barrels on without hesitation.
“My friends and I used to sneak out there when we were seventeen. They always had the best parties. And the best boys. If you know what I mean.... It wasn’t even that hard to cross over, but I heard it’s, like, almost impossible for you guys to come this way, right?
What was it like growing up there? Have you ever seen dragons?
Oh! I heard this rumour once that if you were a bad kid in the Outerlands, they’d just leave you out on the street and a dragon would come eat you.
I mean... I don’t believe it, obviously.
But still. Does stuff like that actually happen? ”
She pauses, just barely. Just long enough to gasp a breath, then:
“How’d you get that scar on your—”
She’s not stopping.... God, this girl is going to be the death of me. It’s only been five minutes, and I’m already second guessing my recent life choices. Maybe Reassignment wouldn’t have been such a bad idea after all...
“Ezrelia, is it?” I cut in.
“Yes, but you can call me Ezzy!”
“Okay, listen... Ezzy, it’s lovely to meet you.
” Her smile somehow gets even brighter. “But I’ve had a long day, and right now, I just need to survive the next month.
So if you could hold off on the fun facts and dragon questions until I’ve had an hour without someone threatening me, or handing me emotional landmines disguised as leather-bound journals.
..” I pause. “...I’d really appreciate it. ”
She blinks, her wide smile falters, just for a beat, long enough for me to know I hit the mark. Then she nods, all quick sincerity.
“Right. Of course. Quiet mode, got it.” She mimes zipping her lips and tossing the invisible key. Dead serious.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she whispers, like we’re in on some shared secret now.
It’s strange; she should be wary. Suspicious, cautious, at the very least. That’s how most people look at Outerlanders, like we’re wild animals in borrowed skin. Dangerous and uncivilised, barely a step up from criminals.
But this girl isn’t.
She’s all sunshine and questions, like someone who’d try and pet a hungry lion just to see if it purrs.
I glance at her, really look this time. “Why are you being nice to me?” The question slips out sharper than I mean. More suspicion than anything else.
Ezzy blinks, caught off guard. Then she shrugs, sheepishly.
“I don’t know. Shouldn’t I be?” There’s no calculation in her voice.
No fear. Just... warmth. Uncomplicated. She tilts her head, smile crooked now, like maybe she’s the one who doesn’t understand me.
“My mum always says, kindness is free until you prove it shouldn’t be. ”
Oh. I see it now. Ezzy isn’t brave. She’s not calculating, or clever, or hiding some secret power move. She’s just... sheltered.
The kind of girl who’s never seen real suffering up close. Never had to gut a rabbit or bury a friend. She’s not fearless, she just doesn’t understand the danger. A small part of me wonders what it would feel like, to look at the world and not brace for it to bite back.
I almost envy her. Almost...
“Oh! And also—” She adds. “Merrin personally asked me if I could keep an eye on you. And obviously, I jumped at the chance. I mean, being in Merrin’s good books?” Ezzy lets out a quick breath. “That’s worth more than gold around here.”
Something twists in my chest. “What did he say exactly?”
She waves a hand, like it’s no big deal. “He didn’t say much, just that it was important. You know... to keep you around. Make sure nothing happened, anyway we should get you down to the afternoon Initiation Brief... Nothing worse than being late on the first day of the new semester.”
I hesitate slightly. I should really keep my distance, she’s soft, naive and annoying as hell, exactly the kind of person who gets you killed in places like this.
But softness can be useful too... People like Ezzy hear things.
See things. Get underestimated. Four weeks, that's all, to survive this place, get the journals and get out. If I play this right, maybe she’ll be more of an asset than a liability.
So I nod and walk over to grab my pack, shoving the leather journal deep inside. The strap bites against my shoulder as I sling it on, heavy with Bren's hook and poor decisions.
“Okay, let’s get this over with,” I mutter, opening the door.
We leave the dormitory wing and step into a wide corridor that curves along the inner edge of the Citadel’s central tower, overlooking a perfectly circular, open-air courtyard below.
Everything’s lined in grey stone, massive, cold, and meticulously cut.
The kind of place built just to remind you who’s in control.
Voices drift up as cadets and officers fill the space beneath, but I keep my gaze ahead—main stair, guard posts, a side door left just slightly ajar.
It’s almost pointless, I probably won’t make it twenty feet if it ever comes to running, but still, I map the layout like muscle memory.
Old habits die hard, and survival isn’t about what’s likely, it’s about being ready anyway.
Ezzy walks beside me in committed silence, her sparkly hairpin catching the light with every step. But her lips fidget, and I can already feel the next question building in her throat like pressure behind a dam.
I toss her a glance. “You can talk, you know.”
She blinks. “Really?”
I nod once. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
But then something flickers, just a twitch in my finger, small, but real.
I flex my hand and try to reach inward, willing the spark to answer, but still nothing.
No surge, no pull. The hum I’ve lived with my whole life—that coiled energy always pressing against my ribs—is still there, just.. . muted. Not gone. Just caged.
Ezzy looks over, catching the tension in my face.
“It’ll come back,” she gestures towards my hands.
“That twitch? It’s a good sign. It’s Merrin.
He’s a Silencer, muting Threads... that’s his speciality.
And he’s... really bloody good at it.” She pauses, then adds with a small shrug.
“That’s why people fear him so much. No one wants to find out what it feels like when your magic goes quiet. ”