CHAPTER 99: PROGRESS...

Aramith squatted beside "the big rock," hunched like a defeated scarecrow, dragging a twig through the dirt. At first, he’d been tracing neat circles, but the cold wind had turned them into wobbly spirals and jagged lines.

He sneezed again for the fifth? Sixth? He’d lost count. His teeth wanted to chatter, but he was too busy sulking.

"How’s it fair," he muttered, "that I get close enough to feel the warmth and then," he mimed a push with the twig, "I have to come sit here in the cold?"

His breath puffed white in the air. The laughter of Mozrael and Lynnor drifted over now and then, light and unhurried, like they were having the time of their lives while he wasted away into an icicle.

They didn’t even care that someone was out there freezing and waiting while they enjoyed.

And a pervert? He thought bitterly. Really? After all I’ve done, Lynnor had to call me that.

He snapped the twig in two without realizing it. "I’m not forgiving her for that."

The unfairness was almost enough to make his eyes sting. Almost.

When the sound of footsteps came, his head shot up.

"All done, little man," Lynnor called, all cheer. "You can have it now."

That was all the permission he needed. The big rock was forgotten. The twig was forgotten. His pride was forgotten. He practically jogged into the steam. His clothes left his body like they were being repelled as he slid into the water until it swallowed him up to the chin.

Heat seeped into his bones, chasing the cold from every aching muscle. His eyes half-lidded. "Ohhh... yes... this is where I live now."

Just like that, Lynnor was forgiven. Devils could be forgiven, apparently. As long as they came with hot springs.

He was drifting in the warmth when his mind started to wander, imagining how the academy might look. This was the first time he’d actually thought about the academy they were headed to. He didn’t even ask Lynnor the name, or if it had towering halls, maybe a courtyard fountain, definitely better food than whatever Lynnor concocted.

He was still thinking of how classes would be when soft steps approached the rock behind him.

"Lynnor said I should bring you these clothes," Mozrael’s voice said.

A neat fold of fabric landed nearby. Deep purple and black — colors that would suit him, not that he was going to say so out loud.

"You could’ve just left them," he said.

"I could’ve," she agreed. Instead of leaving, she lowered herself onto the other side of the rock, knees drawn up, chin resting on them, facing away from the spring.

He watched her for a moment over his shoulder. "Keeping me company?" He remembered she used to do that when they were smaller.

She gave a small shrug. "I guess."

They let the sound of the spring fill the quiet for a while. Steam curled lazily past the edge of the rock. Somewhere in the trees, a nightbird trilled.

"What do you think it’ll be like?" he asked suddenly.

"The academy?"

"Yeah," he smiled.

She thought about it. "Big. Maybe too big. And full of people who are better than me at everything."

"That’s not possible," he said, a little too quickly. "You’re already—"

She nudged a pebble with her toe. "I’m still growing."

"Yeah, well... so am I," he said with a sad smile she couldn’t see. "Actually, I think I might be close to a breakthrough. Maybe I’ll be able to absorb Youm like you soon."

She turned her head slightly, enough to catch the edge of his smile. "You don’t have to lie to me, Aramith."

"I’m not lying—"

"You are. But I think I understand you," she twiddled a leaf between her fingers. "You’re just trying to make me feel better so I don’t worry."

He sank a little lower into the water, ears pinking. "Maybe."

Her expression softened. "You don’t have to feel that way. You try to make me feel better, too, when something seems difficult for me." She let the soft breeze carry the leaf away. "You’ll get there. Lynnor said herself that once you figure out what’s holding you back, you’ll surpass me."

He gave a short laugh. "Lynnor says a lot of things. Remember when she swore she could handle her own spicy stew?"

Mozrael’s lips twitched. "And then nearly cried after one bite?"

That broke them both. It happened a few days prior, but they didn’t laugh because they were tense about growing stronger.

From somewhere behind a tree, Lynnor’s voice floated up, sharp as a whip: "I can hear you!"

They laughed harder.

Mozrael wiped her eyes, her laugh finally subsiding. "She’s so unpredictable."

"Unpredictable? She’s like, what’s the word—chaos, wrapped in skin."

"And somehow still alive."

"Which is terrifying in its own way."

The laughter died down into little chuckles. The night air didn’t feel quite as cold anymore.

"She’s still a good person, though," Aramith muttered.

"Yeah," Mozrael agreed.

The silence came back again for a while before Mozrael, peeling a yellowed leaf into smaller strips, spoke.

"Aramith?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you...miss home?" She felt like it wasn’t fair to ask such a question now, but she’d wanted to know how he felt about all this.

Aramith froze, the question hanging in the air like a sudden chill. He let his eyes close, and the steam blurred the memory of the courtyards, walking through expensive, marbled hallways, the beauty of the gardens, and the sound of his father’s voice. Good days, bad days, and the day everything ended. Which ones counted as "home"? Which ones was he supposed to miss? It all felt empty.

Mozrael started to feel bad. Maybe it wasn’t right to ask him this?

"Sorry," she apologized.

But Aramith shook his head, though she couldn’t see it.

"It’s not like..." he began slowly, still weighing the truth against the answer she might want to hear, "you shouldn’t feel bad about asking me that. It’s just that I don’t know if I miss being home. It was good, but I think this is better. At least now, I have a specific goal in mind, and I’m getting the right amount of help needed to improve myself. And you’re also here to support me."

He chuckled. It was somewhat bitter. "I do miss Dad sometimes, but he’s the one who banished us after all. And apart from him, what else was there to look forward to back there?"

Lynnor stayed hidden, quietly listening. The way he spoke of home... it wasn’t bitterness so much as a hollow space where something important had been. That unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Henndar’s goal in all this was. She was acting on her own and ended up dragging them into her mess, but she couldn’t help but feel like Henndar was using the situation to his advantage. There was something he wanted in this, but she just couldn’t figure it out.

Steam curled upward in soft ribbons as the siblings fell into silence again. Aramith lingered in the water longer than he needed to, as if letting the warmth wash away more than the cold.

Eventually, with a quiet sigh, he climbed out. The tunic and trousers Mozrael had brought were still warm.

They joined Lynnor by the fire. The meal was simple, but hot, and for the first time in days, Aramith felt clean, full, and almost... content.

When they finished their meals, Lynnor had them sit apart, the firelight painting shifting shadows over their faces. Beyond the glow, the forest pressed close. Black trunks and silver leaves trembling faintly in the night breeze.

The steady hum of insects was joined by the occasional snap of the fire, each sound small against the stillness as they began cultivating. Mozrael sank into it effortlessly, Youm streaming into her like it had been waiting for her all along.

Aramith... well, Aramith was still Aramith. Straining, trying, wrestling with invisible threads that refused to be woven.

The stress stretched his focus thin, but it seemed the warm bath helped ease his nerves. He tried and failed to hold the current, but then suddenly he felt it.

Something small.

It was faint. So faint it was almost nothing. A wisp of energy slipped in and stayed.

He opened his eyes, amazed. His grin started small, then refused to leave.

He looked at Lynnor, still grinning.

"Eh?" She shifted, tilting her head in confusion. Before she could say anything, he closed his eyes and continued cultivating.

"Is he finally losing it?"

But he was still grinning. It took her a moment, but she noticed it.

Her eyes narrowed. She’d barely sensed it herself, a thin wisp, no more than the breath of a candle. And yet, he’d caught it. The fact that he’d noticed it before she had...Either he was sharper than she’d given him credit for, or she was losing her edge.

Her gaze slid to Mozrael, still drawing in Youm without pause. The girl’s reserves were filling at an alarming rate. Lynnor decided she’d check. She needed to know just how close Mozrael was to breaking through.

Under normal circumstances, it could take months before someone immature would be able to break through their first gate. Others would take a month if they were skilled enough. And for prodigies, it would take them weeks. A few days to break through in a place that doesn’t have condensed Youm was unheard of, but still...

If she were right... the girl might already be ready.

Lynnor also didn’t mention it, but unless one had broken through a few gates, it was impossible to enter one’s cultivation realm, but Mozrael had still done so. She wanted the girl to break through first, then she’d check the girl’s realm herself.