Elara had tried to bridge the gap in their first year. Tried to be friendly, to draw him out, to make him engage with the world.
He'd shut her down repeatedly until she stopped trying. Now she just watched him from a distance. With worry and something else in her eyes. Admiration, perhaps? Fear, maybe?
His mother — Arros's mother — had written regularly at first. Cheerful letters about village life, asking about his studies, saying how proud they were.
Finn replied occasionally. Short, perfunctory responses that provided no real information. Eventually, her letters became less frequent too.
And through it all, the hollow numbness persisted.
He'd grown stronger. Significantly stronger. He was now a Grade 2 Adept at seventeen, which put him years ahead of the standard progression curve. House Valeris had taken notice, naturally. There was talk of special assignments. Of fast-tracking him to Master rank.
But none of it mattered.
