The North Annex had learned their footsteps.
That was the first thing James noticed after the days stopped changing.
The stone floor outside the barracks had become familiar in a way Valoria never had. In Valoria, every surface carried history. Every corridor had been carved by generations of hands. Every mountain path had a name.
Here, the stones only knew repetition.
Drake's boots crossed the yard at dawn.
Kara's kettle scraped against the stove before the sun reached the top of the wall.
Luna's quiet steps moved between the window and the small strip of soil beneath it.
Xander's fingers tapped against his knee whenever he was thinking too hard.
And James sat on the lowest step, looking at his left boot.
The laces were still tied incorrectly.
Not because he couldn't tie them.
Because he could.
That was the problem.
His fingers moved automatically whenever he tried. A perfect loop. A perfect pull. A clean finish.
His hands remembered things before he decided to do them.
He hated that.
The rain from two nights ago had dried into pale streaks along the yard stones. The fence posts were darker where the wood had absorbed the water. The gate still leaned slightly inward, leaving the same narrow opening at the bottom where dirt slipped through.
They swept it every morning.
The dirt returned every evening.
James watched a small piece of gravel roll toward the gap.
He watched it stop halfway.
Not because anything touched it.
Because the ground tilted there.
His right eye showed him the line immediately.
The weight.
The angle.
The tiny flaw in the stone.
He blinked, and the world became normal again.
Don't solve everything.
That had become harder than any training.
The Nexus had always been the answer that arrived before he asked the question.
Now it was quiet.
Now he had only himself.
And himself was still learning.
"You're staring at a rock."
Kara's voice came from behind him.
James turned.
She stood in the doorway with the kettle balanced against her hip. Her hair was tied back loosely today, several strands falling around her face. The cold had made her cheeks slightly red, and the sleeves of her uniform were pulled over her hands.
She looked tired.
They all did.
But Kara was the only one who tried to look like she wasn't.
"I'm thinking," James said.
"About a rock?"
"About the gap."
Kara followed his gaze toward the bottom of the gate.
She stared for several seconds.
Then she looked back at him.
"The dirt gap?"
"Yes."
"James."
"What?"
"It's a dirt gap."
He looked at her.
She sighed.
"You are aware that we have actual problems, right?"
"Like?"
Kara lifted the kettle slightly.
"Breakfast."
James looked toward the stove.
The fire underneath it was small and struggling.
"You could make it hotter."
Her expression changed immediately.
Not anger.
Something closer to irritation mixed with embarrassment.
"I could make it explode."
She stepped closer and lowered her voice.
"The wood is damp. The air is damp. The chimney is old. If I push it, the smoke comes back in."
James looked at the stove.
Then at her hands.
She noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Look at me like I'm a problem you need to solve."
James looked away.
Because she was right.
The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Not because it was hostile.
Because it was accurate.
"I don't know how to help," James said.
Kara's expression softened slightly.
"I know."
The answer surprised him.
She leaned against the doorway.
"That's the weird thing about you, James."
"What?"
"You always think being useful means fixing something."
She looked toward the yard.
"Sometimes people just need you standing there."
James didn't respond.
Because that sounded too much like something Luna would say.
And because some part of him believed it.
The sound of wood scraping interrupted them.
Xander was moving the supply crates.
Not lifting.
Moving.
One inch at a time.
James watched him shift the flour sack away from the wall.
"Why are you doing that?"
Xander didn't look up.
"Because the wall leaks."
"It hasn't leaked."
"It will."
Kara walked over.
"That is a very Xander answer."
Xander frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you found a problem before it existed."
"It was going to exist."
"Still."
He adjusted the crate.
"The moisture level near the northern wall is higher. The flour absorbs it. The salt block absorbs it. The lard container already has surface separation."
Kara stared.
"You're telling me the fat is separating."
"Yes."
"That sounds like a sentence nobody should say before breakfast."
Xander opened his mouth.
Stopped.
Closed it.
James almost smiled.
Almost.
"Help me move it," Xander said.
That was new.
No explanation.
No lecture.
Just a request.
Kara looked at him for a moment.
Then grabbed the other side of the crate.
"You're getting worse."
Xander looked confused.
"At what?"
"Being annoying."
"I am?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"You're asking for help now."
Xander considered this.
Then nodded.
"That is statistically more efficient."
Kara smiled despite herself.
"Never mind. You fixed it."
Across the yard, Drake stopped sweeping.
The broom rested against his hip.
He watched them.
Then he looked at the gate.
The same gate.
The same gap.
The same dirt.
Chawng sat on the porch, sharpening another piece of wood.
He had not moved all morning.
James looked at him.
"You're not going to fix it."
Chawng continued shaving.
"No."
"Why?"
The old man looked at the gap.
"Because it works."
James frowned.
"It lets dirt in."
"Yes."
"That's not working."
Chawng ran the knife down the wood.
"It lets people know where the outside is."
Nobody spoke.
The wind moved through the yard.
The fence creaked.
James looked at the wall.
Beyond it, the Academy continued.
Classes.
Training.
Laughter.
Life.
All of it separated by stone.
Then came the sound.
A wagon.
Not the ration runner.
Heavier.
The wheels dragged through mud outside the Annex wall.
Everyone noticed.
Even Chawng.
The wagon stopped near the gate.
A moment passed.
Then another.
A voice called.
"North Annex."
Nobody answered.
The voice came again.
"North Annex occupants."
The word landed strangely.
Occupants.
Not students.
Not squad.
Not names.
James stood.
Drake stopped sweeping.
Kara's hand moved instinctively toward the empty space where her gauntlets used to hang.
Xander was already watching the gate.
The bottom gap.
The hinges.
The lock.
The old wood.
Every flaw.
Every possibility.
Chawng stood.
Slowly.
He placed the knife on the porch.
Then the broom.
Nobody said anything.
But everyone noticed.
The broom was no longer in his hand.
The gate rattled.
A piece of dirt fell through the gap and landed inside the yard.
James looked down at it.
The smallest piece of the outside.
For the first time in days, he felt the quiet inside him shift.
Not the Nexus.
Not power.
Something else.
Attention.
Chawng walked toward the gate.
"Stay behind me," Drake said.
The others looked at him.
His left arm remained tucked against his side.
His shield was still inside.
But his feet were already adjusting.
Not the old stance.
The new one.
The one built around what remained.
Chawng reached the gate.
He placed one hand on the wood.
The wagon outside moved.
Something heavy struck the other side.
Once.
The entire frame shook.
Chawng looked back at them.
His eyes moved from James.
To Drake.
To Kara.
To Luna.
To Xander.
Then back to the gate.
"Don't break it," he said.
That was all.
The latch lifted.
The gate opened.