They left the plaza not long after.
A few blocks down, the streets opened into a stretch of food stalls set against the outer district of the Institutum Virtutes Arcanae—IVA. The scent of sizzling oil, spice, and sugar drifted through the air like a balm trying to ease something far deeper than hunger.
The tension hadn't completely left, but it had loosened its grip.
Rian bought a box of fried dumplings, chewing absentmindedly. Tala walked around with a mango iced drink in hand, its color bright contrasting her usual stoicism. Kaito had something wrapped in leaves, earthy and fragrant.
Zeke didn't get anything.
He sat on a low bench, back pressed against the wall, elbows on his knees. Watching people pass by. Watching how normal they looked. Like nothing had happened.
His hands still tingled. A faint, buzzing memory of the power he'd unleashed. His fingers curled unconsciously.
He could still hear the scream.
Still see the way blood hit the ground.
Over and over. Like a loop that wouldn't break.
What the hell are you doing, Zeke?
He stared down at his hands. They looked normal. Harmless. But they weren't. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.
You left home to chase peace, didn't you? That's what this was all supposed to be. A new start. A place where you didn't have to live holding your breath, where you could build something better. And what's the first thing you do?
A fight.
A damn fight.
Stupid.
Arrogant.
Selfish.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Did you forget about your siblings? About why you left? About the weight you promised yourself you'd carry?
He was supposed to protect them by leaving. That's what he told himself. That the distance would help. That if he could just figure out how to survive out here, he'd find something better for them too.
Something safe.
Something good.
And you went and did this. Day one.
Before he could spiral further, his pocket buzzed.
Ding.
Surprised, he pulled out his phone.
His screen lit up with a name.
Ethan.
He hesitated before answering.
"Yo," he murmured, voice low.
Ethan's voice crackled through, loud and familiar—like a ray of light that didn't belong in this storm.
"Zeeeeeke! Heard there was a scene in the plaza. Don't tell me you were the reason half the alarms went off?"
Zeke swallowed. "Maybe."
A pause.
"No way. Wait. Seriously? You ran into Jake?" Ethan burst into laughter. "That idiot's in my year. Always acts like a big deal. Tell me you didn't actually break his—"
"I did."
Another pause. "Holy crap."
Zeke could almost hear the grin on Ethan's face.
"You absolute menace."
Then his tone shifted, softened. "You alright though? I know you don't like using your powers."
Zeke hesitated. His voice came out thinner than he expected. "Yeah. Just… tired."
"Stay there," Ethan said. "I'll come get you."
Ten minutes later, Ethan appeared at the end of the street, walking fast, bag slung over one shoulder.
The moment Zeke saw him, something in his chest settled.
"Zeeeeeke!" Ethan called, stretching the name out like always.
Zeke stood still.
Ethan didn't wait—he strode up, grabbed the back of Zeke's head, and pulled him into a one-armed hug before immediately punching his shoulder.
"Breaking arms now, huh? You've changed," he grinned.
Zeke gave a half-smile. "You'd have done worse."
"Damn right," Ethan said, ruffling his hair.
Then Ethan's eyes flicked over him quickly. "Still got all your limbs? No mysterious glowing wounds or eye changes?"
"Shut up," Zeke muttered, rolling his eyes.
Ethan turned to the others. "You guys must be his new crew. Ethan." He offered a lazy wave.
Rian raised a brow. "You're his friend?"
"Since forever," Ethan said. "You've seen what he's like. Imagine the chaos if I wasn't around."
Rian chuckled. "Well, he was a little ruthless during the fight."
Tala and Kaito nodded in quiet agreement.
Ethan leaned in slightly, stage-whispering, "He used to hate powers. You know what he once told me—?"
"Oi," Zeke cut in. "I'm still here."
Ethan laughed awkwardly and nudged him. "Right, right. C'mon. Let's get outta here. You've seen enough blood for one day."
They walked on.
The food stalls and crowds faded behind them, replaced by the gentler hum of evening. The light stretched long and golden, across the cobblestones, shadows curling like ink around their feet.
The city softened—students laughing in the distance, families calling out to each other, the low hum of sky-trams moving overhead like lullabies in motion.
"You guys aren't ready for this," Ethan said.
They turned the corner.
Zeke stopped breathing.
There it stood.
The gates of the Academy—so tall they made the sky feel smaller, so wide it felt like they could swallow a city. Towers of blackstone streaked with silversteel framed the perimeter. Ancient arches engraved with runes. Crystalline windchimes caught the fading sunlight, scattering it into drifting shapes that danced across the blackstone towers, turning the air into a quiet kaleidoscope, whispering songs Zeke didn't understand.
He stared.
The sun dropped lower behind the city. Light caught the gate just right, setting it a glow. The towers shimmered. The runes pulsed slow and steady, like breathing.
The whole structure shimmered with layered light— Golds bleeding into violets, streaks of rose and indigo braided with silver threads, as if the afternoon sky itself had been gathered and bound in chains.
Zeke froze.
His mind stopped racing, the static cleared. Just for a moment, the weight in his chest lifted.
Ethan moved beside him but said nothing. He didn't need to.
Zeke stepped forward. Just once. One slow movement, like crossing a line he couldn't come back from.
Behind him, the others quieted too. The moment anchored them. Told them they were going into something new and unknown.
Kaito's eyes reflected something unreadable—curiosity maybe. Tala's gaze lingered on the windchimes. Rian, for once, had no sarcastic remark. Just silence.
They all felt it.
This wasn't just a school.
This was the threshold.
Of something larger. Of something terrifying. Of something they couldn't quite name.
A guard greeted them with a nod, already calling the gates open.
Zeke swallowed.
His palms were damp. His pulse ticked faster again.
Not from fear.
But from the knowledge that whatever lay ahead would change him.
For better.
Or for worse.
He didn't know if he was ready.
He only knew it was too late to turn back.