Chapter 10: Paths Yet Unwalked
The second morning of school arrived more quietly than the first.
There was no rush of novelty now, no restless excitement clinging to the air the way it had on the opening day. Instead, the morning settled over Southreach like a familiar breath, steady, expected, and oddly comforting. The city woke in layers. Shutters creaked open along the streets. Bakers drew fresh loaves from stone ovens, steam curling into the cool air. Somewhere beyond the outer district, the harbor bell rang once, marking the hour with a deep, patient note.
Kai walked the road toward the school at an unhurried pace.
At twelve years old, Forgeyear sat squarely on his shoulders, not heavily, but noticeably. It was the final year of the Middle Tier, the point where lessons began to press outward instead of simply building upward. The satchel at his side felt lighter than it had the day before, not in weight, but in feeling. The unease of returning after the long academic break had dulled overnight, replaced by something steadier. Routine had a way of doing that.
Anya skipped a few steps ahead of him, her braids bouncing against her back.
"Don't walk so slow," she said, turning to face him while walking backward. "You'll miss the bell."
Kai smiled. "The bell rings three times. We have time."
"That's what you said yesterday."
"And we didn't miss it."
She huffed, unconvinced, but slowed her pace anyway. Anya always moved like she had somewhere important to be, even when she didn't quite know where that was yet. At eight years old, Sproutyear, she lived halfway between boundless childhood freedom and the first edges of structure. Old enough to understand rules. Young enough to test them whenever she could.
They reached the school grounds just as the first bell rang.
The building stood broad and open beneath the morning sun, its stone walls still cool from the night air. Students filtered through the archways in loose streams, separating naturally by age and habit rather than force. Younger children clustered near their instructors, voices bright and unfiltered. Older students moved with longer strides and quieter conversations, their attention already leaning toward paths not yet chosen.
The South did not divide its children harshly. Everyone shared the same grounds, the same courtyards, the same shade trees. The separation came in rhythm, in expectation, in the way lessons slowly shifted as years passed.
Anya peeled away toward the Lower Tier hall, pausing just long enough to wave enthusiastically.
"I'll tell you about my reading test later!" she called.
"I'll be waiting," Kai replied.
She grinned and vanished into the stream of Sproutyear students, her energy quickly swallowed by motion.
Kai adjusted his satchel and continued deeper into the grounds.
Forgeyear students gathered closer to the central halls, where lessons grew more complex and discussion replaced repetition. He spotted Coren near the steps, leaning casually against a column as if school had always been an extension of her personal space. At twelve, she carried an easy confidence, sharp eyed and relaxed, as though she had already decided that the world would have to keep up with her.
Nearby, Lior and Mila stood together beneath the shade of a low wall. Both were Ironyear, eleven years old, but they carried themselves differently. Lior stood straight, satchel neatly arranged, already reviewing notes despite having read them the night before. Mila sat beside him, quieter, tracing idle shapes into the stone with her finger, observing more than she spoke.
Tomas arrived moments later, breathless, Rootyear energy written all over him.
"I swear," he was saying, "the trench really did give way this time."
"It always gives way when you're involved," Coren replied dryly.
"That's not how ground works."
"Seems to work that way around you."
Kai's presence dissolved the argument into shared laughter.
"Second day already," Coren said, glancing toward the hall entrances. "Feels like the break barely happened."
"Breaks are long when you're waiting for them," Mila said softly. "Short when they're gone."
Lior nodded. "That's because routine resumes faster than novelty."
Coren groaned. "You really are impossible sometimes."
The second bell rang.
They separated without ceremony, drawn toward different halls by different expectations. Forgeyear pulled Kai and Coren one way. Ironyear claimed Lior and Mila another. Rootyear swept Tomas along with younger students. The paths crossed often, but never fully overlapped.
Kai entered the Forgeyear hall as the third bell rang.
Lessons began.
Forgeyear was where the Common Track reached its peak. Arithmetic moved beyond counting and into systems, trade ratios, resource management, survival calculations. Debate was no longer optional. Opinions had to be formed, defended, and sometimes revised. Teachers spoke less. Students were expected to think more.
The morning opened with civic discourse.
Instructor Maelin stood before them, hands folded behind her back, eyes sharp but calm. "Forgeyear," she said, "is not about deciding who you are. It is about learning how to decide."
They discussed contracts, why they existed, how they protected both sides, and what happened when they were broken. Kai listened closely, contributing once or twice, careful with his words. He liked discussions like this. They felt real. Applicable.
Mid morning arithmetic followed, then applied survival theory, how to ration food during long travel, how to calculate water needs, how to read weather patterns for safe movement. It was demanding, but satisfying.
When the break bell rang, the Forgeyear hall emptied into sunlight.
The yard filled again, layers of age briefly dissolving into shared space. Kai spotted Anya immediately. She was sitting cross legged beneath their usual tree, bread in hand, talking animatedly to Tomas while Mila listened with a small smile.
Kai joined them as Coren flopped down nearby and Lior approached more deliberately.
Lunch was simple. Bread, apples, cheese wrapped in cloth. Nothing fancy. Nothing wasted.
Conversation drifted easily, complaints about drills, jokes about handwriting, Tomas boasting about almost mastering multiplication.
Then Lior spoke.
"Kai," he said, carefully, the way he always did when something mattered. "May I ask you something?"
Kai looked up. "Of course."
"When will your father return?"
The question landed gently, but it carried weight.
The group grew quiet in the natural way of friends who cared. Even Anya paused mid bite, eyes flicking between them.
"A few days," Kai said. His voice was steady. Certain. "That's what he said."
Mila smiled, relief softening her expression. Tomas nodded, clearly pleased.
"See?" Coren said easily. "Told you he wouldn't be gone long."
Anya leaned closer to Kai, pressing her shoulder against his arm.
"He promised," Kai added, glancing down at Anya.
That settled it.
Warmth moved through the group, not loud, not dramatic. Just shared reassurance. The kind that did not need words.
"Good," Mila said quietly.
"Parents always come back," Tomas declared with absolute confidence.
Lior nodded once, satisfied.
The bell rang again, pulling them back toward their separate lessons.
The afternoon passed smoothly.
Forgeyear practical sessions followed, drafting simple contracts, debating fair trade scenarios, rotating through applied crafts. Kai took care with his writing, imagining his father reading over his shoulder, offering quiet corrections.
Physical conditioning came later. Endurance drills, cooperative tasks, balance exercises. No competition. Just improvement.
By the time the final bell rang, Kai felt tired in the good way.
Outside, Anya burst into motion, recounting her day in excited fragments, songs learned, a story read aloud, a rule she had almost forgotten but had not.
The others joined them as paths reconverged, conversation drifting freely as they walked home together.
"Do you think it will get harder?" Anya asked suddenly.
"Yes," Lior said.
"Definitely," Coren added.
"Probably," Mila agreed.
Kai thought for a moment. "But we'll get better at it."
Anya smiled.
They parted ways at familiar corners, no ceremony needed. Tomorrow was certain.
Kai walked the last stretch home with Anya beside him. As evening settled, he glanced down the road that led south.
A few days, he thought.
Close enough to hold.
School had resumed. Life had found its rhythm again. And within that rhythm, between lessons, laughter, and quiet reassurances, paths were beginning to form, even if none of them could see where they truly led yet.
For now, it was enough to walk together.
**
T.N.
Kai and Coren is 12 years old, in Forgeyear (Middle Tier)
Anya is 8 years old, Sproutyear (Lower Tier)
Lior and Mila are 11, Ironyear (Middle Tier)
Tomas is 9, Rootyear (Lower tier)
Lower tier (Foundational Circle)
1st year (seed year)
2nd year (sprout year)
3rd year (root year)
Middle Tier (Common Track)
1st year (stone year)
2nd year (iron year)
3rd year (forge year)
Upper tier (Path Preparatory)
1st year (way year)
2nd year (crown year) - graduates
15 years old adult hood