When Elwyn left the guest dormitory, he went back down the staircase in a muffled calm. His footsteps were softened by the carpets, and behind the windows, snow fell in light filaments, like silent feathers sliding along the glass. The winter light still lingered—pale and diffuse—but outside, the engraved lanterns were already lighting up one by one. The Academy was steeped in that slow transition toward evening.

  No sooner had he crossed the threshold than the cold air caught him—sharp without being biting. He spotted Nahira leaning against the fa?ade, as though she had chosen this place to wait without being seen too closely. The lanterns cast amber reflections through her dark hair, and her eyes gleamed when she saw him approach.

  — So, are they asleep?

  — Le?na, yes. My parents… almost. They’re going to rest for a bit. They’ve had a long day.

  Nahira followed the flakes as they began to fall more thickly. For a moment they stayed in that quiet cold, listening to the wind breathe between the arches and gently stir the branches weighed down with snow.

  At last, she pushed off the wall.

  — The others are in the main hall. They’re waiting for us.

  Elwyn nodded and followed her under the arcades. The snow barely crunched beneath their steps. They crossed a path bordered by frost-coated stones and engraved lanterns that gave off a steady light, reflecting on the ice like polished glass. Everything looked sharper, softer—almost unreal.

  When they stepped into the hall, warmth wrapped around them at once. The luminous engravings cast a golden glow on the walls and highlighted the decorations put up earlier: ribbons, garlands, small hand-shaped ornaments. Groups of students were still moving about, but voices remained low, as if everyone respected the particular calm that comes before a celebration.

  Sylaria spotted them first. She straightened from the railing she’d been leaning on, and her smile immediately lit her face. The mauve sheen of her hair trembled under the light.

  — So… everything’s alright?

  — They’re settled in and already half asleep. The journey really wore them out, Elwyn replied.

  Loyd, seated on a step, lifted a hand with lazy ease.

  — You took your time. We were starting to think your family had decided to lock you up until the party.

  — They’re sleeping peacefully, Elwyn answered.

  — Good. How much time do we have left before the banquet?

  — Less than two hours, Sylaria announced.

  Loyd let out a relieved sigh.

  — That’s enough time to get ready… but not enough time for Nahira to iron her outfit three times.

  Nahira slowly turned her head toward him.

  — I never iron my clothes three times.

  Sylaria lifted a hand, diplomatic.

  — Twice, then.

  Nahira looked at her for a second, then turned to Elwyn.

  — I iron my uniform only once.

  — I believe you, Elwyn replied without hesitation.

  Loyd burst out laughing.

  — Betrayal. You take her side without even checking.

  — You can check if you want, Elwyn said, but I doubt she’ll let you.

  Arimélia, silent until then, spoke with her usual calm.

  — What matters is that we all have time to change. The dormitories will be full of students panicking over their outfits or monopolizing the mirrors.

  Sylaria sighed softly.

  — And I’d like to avoid being stopped every three steps so someone can check badly tied bows.

  — Why you? Loyd asked.

  — Because nobody has eyes in the back of their head… and I still manage to tie symmetrical knots.

  Nahira raised an eyebrow.

  — I’ve never needed to ask.

  Sylaria gave her a sincere smile.

  — I know. You tie perfect knots without thinking.

  The two girls headed toward their dormitories. Arimélia followed, attentive, as if she were already trying to merge with the evening’s rhythm.

  Loyd turned to Elwyn.

  — We should go too. I need to make sure my hair doesn’t look like a battlefield when I walk into the banquet.

  — You don’t have that much hair.

  — Wrong. I have exactly enough hair for it to be a problem.

  — Worst case, you take a shower to discipline it.

  Loyd stared at him, outraged.

  — So I can get sick right after because of the cold?

  Elwyn raised an eyebrow.

  — Don’t worry. The Academy has a very good healer.

  — Oh right. You.

  They left the hall. The luminous engravings were slowly intensifying as night approached. The corridors vibrated with a diffuse excitement: doors slamming, bursts of laughter, hurried footsteps darting from one staircase to another. The whole Academy breathed to the rhythm of preparations.

  As he climbed the steps, Elwyn felt a simple warmth spread through him—the warmth of a shared moment, of a group bound by the same rituals.

  In the boys’ dormitory, the hallway rang with muffled voices: laughter, complaints, desperate searches for missing ties. A student ran past with a pair of boots clutched to his chest, then vanished down the stairs like a panicked gust of wind.

  Loyd nodded.

  — I told you. Preparations always start with a disaster.

  — It’s not a disaster. Just disorganization.

  — Same thing. A disorganized army is doomed to fall.

  They reached their doors.

  — Meet you in the hall when you’re ready, Loyd called, adjusting his collar with confidence.

  — See you soon.

  Elwyn’s door closed behind him in a gentle silence. The engravings spread a peaceful light. The bed was neatly made, the desk tidy, and the small frosted window let in the last reflections of the day.

  Elwyn removed his coat and prepared his outfit. Simple. Elegant. True to who he was. The dark fabric slid between his fingers with a reassuring softness.

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  In the neighboring room, Loyd was probably already wrestling with a stubborn sleeve.

  When Elwyn stepped back out, the corridor was calmer. A few students still passed by—perfumed and dressed up—their steps lighter than usual.

  Loyd caught up with him.

  He was… surprisingly well groomed.

  — There. I look like someone who knows what he’s doing.

  — For once.

  Loyd wore a triumphant smile and adjusted his midnight-blue vest. His cream shirt with an open collar gave the whole look a falsely casual air, while his perfectly cut dark gray trousers let him strut with ease. His polished leather boots shone as if they’d just come out of a shop window. As for his hair, it had been tamed with such meticulous care that you’d have to be dishonest to believe his complaints.

  — And you, you’re still as ordinary as ever, he said, utterly serious.

  — I’m not going to transform myself for one evening.

  — I’m not talking about transforming. Just the bare minimum of effort. You only swapped the uniform’s mauve and gray for black.

  He punctuated the remark with a vague gesture, as if everything could still be saved if Elwyn accepted a forced makeover.

  Elwyn looked up at him.

  — You’re very invested for someone who says he doesn’t really like parties.

  — I don’t like crowded halls. But meeting your parents was worth it. And besides, we’ll be able to eat as much as we want.

  They put on their coats and started walking again. A quiet silence followed them for a few moments, then Elwyn broke it.

  — I didn’t expect you to get along with them so well.

  — They’re simple. Sincere. They don’t play a role.

  He paused—just long enough to catch Elwyn’s attention.

  — I was wondering… do you think your mother would have liked meeting them?

  Loyd’s step hesitated for a fraction of a second.

  — I don’t know. Maybe.

  His voice had lost its lightness.

  — I don’t have many memories of her. Just that she couldn’t stay still. Always outside. Always moving. She never liked being shut in anywhere.

  A fragile smile brushed his lips.

  — She probably would have found this island too small… and the corridors too straight.

  Elwyn listened without interrupting.

  — You never talk about her. It’s a bit the same with your father.

  Loyd exhaled, as if the words cost him more than he wanted to admit.

  — Because there isn’t much to say. She lived how she wanted. And she died. Alone. In the cold.

  He stopped, crossed his arms, gathered himself.

  — What matters is that she left me enough character to move forward. And my father…

  He made a vague gesture, his gaze darkening.

  — That bastard left me enough rage to keep going until the day I can finally bring him down for good.

  Elwyn set a hand on his shoulder—brief, steady.

  — For what it’s worth… I’m glad you’re here.

  — Tch. You almost sound like you have feelings.

  They reached the entrance to the Grand Library. The three girls were already waiting at the bottom of the steps.

  Loyd drew a deep breath.

  — Alright. We’re going to look good. And we’re not going to break anything.

  — You say that like it’s going to hold until the end of the night, Nahira replied.

  Inside the hall, Sylaria welcomed them with a bright smile. Her coat lay open over a pale mauve outfit that emphasized the softness of her movements.

  — You’re finally here.

  — You finished faster than expected, Loyd noted.

  — Nahira and Arimélia too. They’re still checking their hair. Arimélia has been trying to tame a rebellious strand for ten minutes.

  Elwyn scanned the room.

  — They won’t be long.

  Sylaria pointed to the stairs.

  — There’s Nahira.

  Nahira was coming down with her usual composure. Her half-open coat revealed, in fleeting glimpses, a dark outfit impeccably tailored. Her hair, pinned up, cleared her face—calm and assured.

  — I told you I don’t iron three times.

  — That’s not what I saw, Sylaria murmured, hiding a smile.

  — Once… and a half, Nahira corrected.

  Arimélia arrived in turn. Her coat fell slightly open as she walked, revealing the opening tailored into the back of her outfit for her folded wings. The fabric formed a carefully cut oval, fastened at the nape with a fine clasp. Her slender silhouette and jet-black hair gave her a sober, proud look—yet a discreet tension tightened her shoulders.

  Loyd looked over the group with mock gravity.

  — We’ve never been this presentable. It’s weird.

  — Speak for yourself, Sylaria said.

  — Exactly what I was going to say, Nahira added.

  A discreet agitation already stirred in the hall—an obvious reminder that the banquet hour was approaching.

  Nahira turned her eyes toward the exit.

  — We should go. The families will start taking their seats.

  They pushed through the doors. Their breath fogged in the icy air. Snow welcomed them again.

  They took the path leading to the guest dormitory. Flakes fell with an almost solemn slowness, catching on their capes and melting at once. Lantern light reflected on the frost and wrapped the Academy in a vivid glow.

  They walked in a soft silence. Their steps barely crunched; the cold air pricked their cheeks. Behind some windows, silhouettes were already bustling—ribbons adjusted, dishes carried, last details checked with hurried care.

  Sylaria admired the luminous decorations. Arimélia followed every detail of the frozen landscape. Nahira moved with her usual calm. Loyd breathed out mist in useless spirals, already meant to amuse Le?na. And Elwyn, true to himself, simply felt at ease.

  At the guest dormitory, Elwyn knocked gently.

  Volden opened almost at once, a quiet smile on his lips.

  — You’re already ready? Elwyn asked.

  — Yes. And Le?na too.

  He had barely finished when a small figure burst out of the room. Le?na rushed toward them with overflowing energy. Her eyes shone with excitement, and her oversized coat billowed around her.

  — Are we going to eat?

  — Yes. The banquet is about to begin.

  She nodded with remarkable vigor and grabbed her brother’s hand. Her ice-cold gloves closed around Elwyn’s. He smiled, softly.

  Ophélia appeared next, adjusting her pale coat. Her gaze met Elwyn’s, and a discreet tenderness settled there.

  — Let’s go.

  They started walking. Le?na held Elwyn’s hand but sometimes let go to twirl when a flake shimmered more brightly, as though her wonder alone could light up everything she touched.

  Behind them, Volden and Loyd were already talking like old comrades. Loyd mimed a sword parry; Volden answered with the amused calm of a veteran. Their laughter mingled with the cold air.

  Ophélia walked with the three girls. Sylaria commented on the bluish decorations that wound between the arches like suspended rivers.

  — It looks like the sky turned upside down, she murmured.

  Nahira kept an eye on Le?na, attentive to packed snow and icy patches.

  — Aren’t you cold? she asked.

  — No. There are too many things to look at.

  Nahira nodded, satisfied.

  — So you’re coming to the banquet to eat, not to get sick?

  Le?na laughed.

  — I’m coming for everything. But mostly for dessert.

  — Wise choice, Nahira approved.

  Arimélia walked slightly behind. Her apple-green gaze rested sometimes on the gathered families, sometimes on the students guiding their parents with pride.

  Ophélia turned her head toward her.

  — Is this the first time you’ve worn a festive outfit at the Academy?

  Arimélia blinked, surprised the question was for her.

  — Yes. I’m not used to it yet.

  — It suits you very well. You don’t need to worry.

  Arimélia hesitated, then exhaled:

  — Thank you. I never really know if I’m making a good impression.

  Ophélia replied without the slightest hesitation.

  — You have nothing to prove. You’re already very dignified as you are.

  A faint shiver ran through Arimélia’s wings—immediately restrained.

  At the front of the group, Elwyn walked with his usual calm, observing more than speaking. Ophélia eventually drew alongside him. Le?na had wandered off to show something to Loyd.

  Ophélia slid her arm against Elwyn’s—a simple, natural gesture. Mother and son.

  — Are you alright? she asked.

  — Yes. I don’t have any problem.

  She paused—more to look at him than to question him. Her gaze followed the line of his profile, the looseness of his shoulders.

  — Isn’t it too much for you? she asked at last.

  Elwyn shook his head gently.

  — No. Things are very different from home… but everything’s going well. I’m even surprised it’s going this well with everyone.

  A discreet smile passed over his lips. Ophélia saw it, and her arm tightened for a moment.

  — I’m happy the others take care of you.

  Elwyn lowered his eyes to their steps. Snow packed under their boots.

  — I’m not always easy to follow.

  Ophélia briefly set her hand on his forearm.

  — That’s why I’m even prouder of you.

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

  The further they went, the more the lantern light intensified. The decorations glittered, and the garlands threw back every gleam. Behind them, the Grand Library stood in the night like an illuminated bastion.

  Ahead, the Academy’s dining hall had transformed for the occasion. White and silver draperies hung along the walls, fluttering softly with the wind. Great stone vases filled with snow-laden branches framed the now unrecognizable entrance.

  Le?na tugged on Elwyn’s hand.

  — It’s beautiful. Does everyone eat together?

  — Yes. Some of the students and their families, and the professors who are still here.

  — Then it’s even better than in your letters.

  Around them, snow fell with an almost meditative slowness. Their silhouettes moved through a setting suspended between winter silence and festive bustle. Lanterns spread a warm glow that slid over their faces and softened the air with a quiet gentleness.

  Ahead, the entrance to the great hall shone in the night like a promise.

  And in the frozen air—amid footsteps, laughter, flakes, and brightened gazes—an obvious truth settled with simple warmth:

  The celebration could begin.