Alas, despite her struggles, she wasn’t able to escape the cruel grip of the inevitable— before the start of the academy, every year without fail, the greatest of travesties was visited upon the wards of the orphanage. A truly terrible fate— fancy clothes.

If anything, because she was one of the top students of her class and in her final year, the Matron fussed over her even more than usual. “Stand still!” She bit back a whimper as her already tight coat got pulled even tighter. “And stand straight— this wouldn’t be half so uncomfortable if you just relaxed.” Lies. Lies and slander. “Look, Mimi managed to get dressed perfectly first try. It’s not that hard, I swear…” some of the younger orphans snickered at her misfortune as the Matron snapped at her for misaligning her sash, as though it wasn’t going to get thrown off center when she walked over to the academy anyways.

The wise ones winced in sympathy. After all, they were next.

Finally, when the Matron was finished with her torture session, Lily was left to stand in line next to the others in her age-group. Mimi rolled her eyes, Jedda just huffed a soft laugh, and— because of course she would— Pogua just kept playing whatever new dataslate game she’d downloaded recently. None of them said anything.

There wasn’t really anything to be said. Once, years ago, when they’d first moved up to the senior classes, they’d been united in their drive to spite the heavens, their cruel fates, to join the Bloody Saffron Sect and become the next generation of immortals. Now, though… of them all, Lily was the only one who even still had a chance. They were still friendly, for the most part… but, still. It was a profoundly isolating feeling.

“Alright.” The Matron’s words snapped her out of her musings, drawing every eye in the building to her. “I’m going to be brief—” lies lies lies lies lies— “because you’ll no doubt be subjected to a far more long-winded speech later during initiation later today. I won’t go into the minutiae of our preparations— because I know each and every one of you. You are prepared to not just succeed, but excel beyond expectations. Those of you attending for your first year—” a few nervous shuffles from the younger kids in the back— “be calm, be courteous, and polite, and always keep in mind that even if your senior classes are when things start to matter, everything counts. To those just starting their senior classes this year, don’t get complacent. Each and every thing is important, from combat arts to the advanced sciences.

“And to my final year students…” she trailed off for a second as her gaze settled on them, a heavy thing, just for a moment— such expectation, such hope, such… not condemnation, but pity, and Lily could not help but despise that look. “This is the most important year in your entire schooling. Your performance will shape whether you’ll be recruited to a well-paying job or whether you’ll be forced to live in drudgery. I’ve had wards before who, in failing to apply themselves, were forced to move out of the city. The exams at the end of the year aren’t everything— don’t slack off.” Then, quieter— “and, perhaps, if you strive to surpass the stars themselves, you might just achieve something great.” So softly Lily wondered if she’d been hallucinating. Words of encouragement, from the Matron? Not possible.

“Support each other,” she continued, as if she’d never stopped. “Each of you have been uniquely disadvantaged, and while the academy system is built to be fiercely competitive, none of you need more pushing you down. You are all family— and I expect to see that reflected in the way you treat each other.” She stepped to the side, pulling open the door to crisp morning air, and spoke simply— “have a good day at school.”

And that was that.

They spilled onto the sidewalk in a messy group, the younger ones chattering to each other… and the older ones, too, really, most everyone except her. That was fine though. Normal, even. It wasn’t that long of a walk to the school— right twice and then forward until you reached the big road, then take another right to get through the tunnel next to the library, and then—

They were there. East Saffron’s 32nd Preparatory Academy. The buzz of nervousness and excitement was almost palpable— between the orphans, between everyone, hundreds of students milling together in the open courtyard just waiting for the teachers to admit them into the big outdoor stadium they used for all the important announcements.

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Not Lily, though. She was waiting for something else entirely. The minutes trickled onwards, sun rising higher and higher in the air, until she almost started to worry that he hadn’t actually managed to— and then he saw him. It wasn’t really hard, given the way the crowd shied back from nervously, and the mutters that followed in his wake— standing there, domineeringly large and yet no less elegantly graceful for it, stalked Avyr.

A second— and then their gazes locked, and then the cat broke out into a loping walk that someone less familiar with just how fast he could get when he was exerting himself might have thought a run, weaving through startled students to skid to a stop beside her. “Lily! I’ve been looking for you all morning!”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been standing in this same spot for the past half hour. How’d it take you this long to find me!”

Avyr pouted a little. “In my defense, all you Elegant Aliens tend to look a little similar, and to make matters worse you’ve all dressed up in the same outfit. It’s like the whole thing is purposefully designed to make it as difficult as possible to pick someone out of a crowd!”

“I think that’s just a skill issue.”

Avyr growled at her playfully, bapping her with a paw. “Skill issue. Right. I’m sure it’s that, and not anything having to do with inherent psychophysiological aptitudes that humans have for telling apart members of their own species, no.”

“Still a skill issue. Or maybe a Skill

issue.”

“Can’t use skills until I’m in Opening, unfortunately…” he shook his head, glancing past her at… ah, her fellow orphans, who were looking… well, not as terrified as some of the people Avyr had passed, but they certainly didn’t look entirely calm. “Are these your friends?”

“No, obviously.”

Avyr rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know how lonely you are—” she shoved him for that, which of course didn’t do anything. Stupid Shedding-step cultivators. “But I meant more along the line of acquaintances. Or… I don’t know how to put it in your language, but, part of your tribe? Clan? No, that implies a greater deal of connection in your tongue. Group perhaps, though that’s a bit vague—”

“They’re the other orphans, so I suppose acquaintances could work.” She huffed softly, stepping towards them. “I swear, you all look like he’s going to eat your or something. Stop being idiots— this is Avyr, and Avyr, meet the orphanage kids.”

It was Mimi who managed to wrest control of her shocked surprise first— “Avyr? This is—” her face turned a funny shade of pink and pale both. “When you said you were spending all your time with a boy, I thought you meant— but—” she just cut off after that, her speech strangled beyond recognition.

Lily and Avyr shared a glance, then burst out laughing. “I can assure you,” Avyr managed to speak between his chirping laughs, “my relationship with Lily is not of that manner in the slightest. We merely have similar pursuits.”

Pogua sighed. “Great. Another cultivator wannabe.”

Lily just ignored it— she was used to the girl’s acrid personality— but Avyr narrowed his eyes and— pushed. Not physically, but with the qi in his core, that metaphysical pressure around them thickening noticeably for a brief moment before he cut it off. “There is nothing potential about my cultivation.” That, more than anything, managed to truly stun the people around them. “Lily is an accomplished initiate in formations craft. If anyone here has a chance to join the Bloody Saffron Sect, it’s her.”

Of course. She fought the urge to facepalm— it wasn’t like him to be so overt when insulted… except, they hadn’t really insulted him. Pogua had insulted her.

Gently, she placed a hand on Avyr’s shoulder, a small offer of comfort. “It’s fine.” Then because she couldn’t let the others think anything about it, she followed with smug— “after all, I am the school’s number one upcoming formations master.” Avyr chirped out a soft laugh at that, and everyone around them was still too discombobulated to form a proper response.

A luck would have it, they were saved from any sort of awkward conversation that might have followed off of that, the school’s positively ancient intercom crackling to life and directing the student body to enter the stadium and segregate by academic year. She quickly waved goodbye to the other orphans— even her fellow final years— then shamelessly took advantage of the space Avyr could carve out through his mere presence to push towards the front of the line and escape them.