The infirmary was quieter at night.
The long windows were cracked open just enough to let in cool air, carrying the faint scent of rain and stone. Lanterns burned low along the walls, their light warm and soft against rows of narrow beds.
Max lay propped up awkwardly, ribs wrapped tight, one arm in a sling. Every breath looked like effort, though he tried not to show it.
Across from him, Finn lay pale against white sheets, his stomach heavily bandaged, his right arm secured in place to keep the shoulder from shifting again.
Scarlett sat between the two beds on a wooden stool she had dragged over herself. Elena stood near the window at first, staring out at the dark courtyard.
For a while, no one spoke.
Max broke first.
He turned his head slowly toward Finn and squinted.
"You know," he said dryly, "it's actually quite nice to see you making an effort."
Finn blinked lazily. "What."
"Matching injuries. Incredibly supportive of you."
Scarlett huffed a quiet laugh before she could stop herself.
Finn shifted slightly and immediately regretted it. "Yeah? Well, I figured you would be lonely."
Max winced as he adjusted against the pillow. "You didn't have to get stabbed for solidarity."
Finn tried to smirk. "Method acting."
Elena's shoulders relaxed just a fraction at the sound of it.
Scarlett leaned back, folding her arms. "You two are idiots."
Max glanced at Finn. "He's worse."
Finn's eyes slid toward him. "You challenged a guy twice your size with earth powers."
"You ran down an empty corridor."
Scarlett's jaw tightened.
Finn noticed.
He shifted his gaze away.
The quite returned.
Then Scarlett spoke, voice lower.
"Why didn't you tell Smith?"
Finn did not answer.
She stood up abruptly.
"Why didn't you tell him what happened?"
He looked at the ceiling. "Because."
"Because why?"
"Because it doesn't change anything."
Scarlett took a step closer to the bed. "It changes everything."
"No, it doesn't," Finn said more firmly. "You think Smith doesn't know? You think he doesn't see it?"
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
Scarlett's voice sharpened. "The point is they're not going to stop."
Finn's jaw set. "And you think running to Smith makes that better?"
"I think not letting them carve you up in corridors would be a good start."
Elena turned slowly from the window.
Scarlett didn't look at her.
She kept her eyes on Finn.
"You don't get to just decide that you will take it," she continued, quieter now but more intense. "You do not get to decide that for the rest of us."
Finn swallowed.
"I didn't want them going after you."
Scarlett blinked.
Just once.
"Don't," she said quickly.
"Don't what?"
"Don't do that."
Finn's voice softened despite himself. "You were already furious."
"That's not the point."
"It kind of is."
Her jaw clenched.
Elena stepped in before the tension snapped.
"He's right about one thing," she said.
Both of them looked at her.
"Elena—" Scarlett began.
"They will not stop," Elena said evenly. "Not because we report it. Not because we don't."
Her voice wasn't loud.
But it was steady in a way that felt different.
"They're targeting us because someone wants them to."
Max shifted slightly in his bed. "My Father."
No one argued.
Scarlett looked back at Finn.
"You still should have told Smith."
Finn looked at her for a long moment.
"I'll survive."
Scarlett's mouth tightened.
"Yeah," she muttered. "You better."
It was almost a threat.
Almost.
Later, when the healers came to change Finn's bandages, Elena slipped out quietly.
The corridors were dim now, evening settling heavy over the academy.
She did not hesitate.
She went straight to Sergeant Smith's office.
The door was partially open.
Smith sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled, reading through reports by lantern light. His expression was stern but tired — lines deeper than usual.
He looked up as she approached.
"Cadet."
She stood straighter automatically.
"Sir."
He gestured to the chair.
She didn't sit.
"Is there any news?" she asked.
Smith's gaze sharpened slightly.
"About?"
"My father."
The room seemed to quiet further.
"And my mother," she added. "You said they were heading to where he was last seen."
Smith leaned back in his chair.
For a moment, he did not answer.
When he did, his voice was careful.
"The last confirmed message we received," he said, "was that they were tracking residual portal activity near the northern ridge."
Elena's fingers tightened around the strap of her bow.
"That was weeks ago."
"Yes."
"Have you heard anything else?"
Smith held her gaze.
"No."
The word landed softly.
But it landed.
Elena's jaw tightened.
"They're experienced," Smith added. "Your father more than most. If anyone can survive what is out there—"
"He can," she cut in quietly.
Smith nodded once.
"And your mother?"
Elena hesitated.
"She's strong."
"Yes," Smith agreed. "She is."
He leaned forward slightly.
"There has been no confirmation of casualties. No sign of forced extraction. That matters."
It was meant to comfort.
It did not.
Elena swallowed.
"Yes, sir."
She turned to leave.
"Elena."
She paused.
Smith's voice lowered slightly.
"If there's something driving you right now, make sure it's not anger."
She didn't respond.
She just left.
Elsewhere in the academy, Marek stood in a dim archive chamber with Cassie.
Stacks of parchment reports and old rosters lay open across a stone table.
Smith joined them moments later.
Marek did not waste time.
"It's not just this term."
Smith's eyes moved to the documents.
Cassie spoke.
"Small numbers. One here. Two there. Cadets transferred. Reassigned. Training accidents."
Smith frowned.
"They were recorded."
"Yes," Marek said. "But not followed."
Cassie tapped a page lightly.
"They don't reappear on any active roster."
Smith's expression darkened.
"How long?"
Marek slid a parchment forward.
"Three years."
Smith went still.
"That's too clean," Cassie added. "Too quiet."
Smith looked at the names.
Some were first years.
Some older.
All unremarkable.
Individually.
"Pattern?" Smith asked.
"None obvious," Marek said. "Different abilities. Diverse backgrounds."
"Or," Cassie murmured, "a pattern we don't see yet."
Smith closed the folder slowly.
"We do not accuse without proof."
"We are past coincidence," Marek replied.
Smith met his eyes.
"I know."
Silence stretched.
"We watch closer," Smith said finally. "Discreetly."
Cassie folded her arms. "And if the missing aren't accidents?"
Smith's voice hardened.
"Then we find out where they went."
Elena returned to the infirmary quietly.
Scarlett looked up at once.
"Well?"
Elena didn't speak.
She just gave the smallest shake of her head.
Scarlett's shoulders dropped slightly.
"Right," she muttered. "Brilliant."
Max watched Elena carefully.
Finn noticed too.
They let it sit.
For a while, they just talked.
Not about Grant.
Not about Billy.
About training schedules. About how terrible the infirmary soup was. About how Finn claimed he'd "gracefully absorbed the blade strikes."
Scarlett called him a Nob.
Max said he had seen worse acting.
Elena even managed a faint smile.
Before they knew it the sun was rising then, a bell rang in the distance.
Lessons.
Scarlett stood first.
"Shit, Come on," she said to Elena. "If we skip again, they will assume we have died."
Elena nodded.
She paused beside Finn's bed.
"Rest," she said.
"Yes, boss," Finn replied weakly.
She moved to Max.
"You too."
Max smirked slightly. "I can't move."
"Good."
Scarlett leaned over Finn briefly. "If you even try and get up, I'll kill you myself."
He managed a grin. "Romantic."
She rolled her eyes and walked out.
When they were alone, silence returned.
Max stared at the ceiling.
Finn stared at the wall.
After a minute, Finn spoke.
"I hate them."
Max didn't hesitate.
"I know."
"Billy."
"Yeah."
"Ned."
"Yeah."
"Skinny."
Max exhaled slowly.
"They're not just idiots," Finn said. "They are being directed."
"Grant."
"Yeah."
Silence.
Finn shifted slightly and winced.
"This is going to end badly," he muttered.
Max turned his head slowly.
"For them."
Finn looked at him.
"You sure?"
Max's expression hardened — not angry.
Certain.
"They think we are weak."
Finn waited.
Max's eyes were steady now.
"They don't realise we are learning."
Outside the infirmary, the academy carried on like nothing was wrong.
But beneath the stone and banners and training bells —
Something was rotting.
And it was not subtle anymore.