Some days, the Academy felt almost normal.
Classes. Training. Sparring. Eating too fast between them all.
Even my powers had settled into something familiar—something I could control, most of the time.
This morning's combat drill ended with me dropping the final dummy with a clean shot through its core.
I wasn't flawless, but I was definitely getting close.
From the stands, Reyes gave a low whistle.
"Showoff," he called as I walked past, wiping sweat from my face.
"Says the guy who built the drones I keep frying."
He grinned. "And whose maintenance hours keep going up because of it."
I left, hearing him mutter something about upgraded resistors.
Later, I joined Iris and a few others in a strategy theory class. Instructor Naera had apparently returned from field deployment and was already scrawling diagrams across the board, her long coat dusted from wherever she'd been.
"Relics," she said, underlining the word sharply, "are not toys. Nor are they prizes. They are living remnants of a time we no longer understand."
I perked up at the word: Relics.
This was new.
"Official doctrine says they're fragments of ancient power—things left behind when the gods fell. Most are sealed. Some... surface. And occasionally, someone is foolish enough to think they can claim one."
The room fell still.
"Why are we only learning about this now?" a student asked.
Naera smirked. "Because until now, most of you weren't strong enough to even sense one, let alone survive one."
I looked around. Iris met my eyes briefly, her expression unreadable. Leo had a troubled expression on his face.
"Anyone here ever seen one?" someone in the back asked.
Naera paused. Just long enough to notice.
"No," she lied.
And kept teaching.
After class, I found myself walking the outer edge of the training field with Iris. The sky was beginning to warm into a quiet orange.
"You heard of relics before?" I asked.
She nodded. "Bits and pieces. My brother... before he got sick, he used to talk about them."
I glanced at her. "You have a brother? And he's… sick?"
"Yeah," Iris sighed, tilting her head back. "He's younger. Bright kid. Used to draw fake relics in his notebook like it was his job. Said he was going to find one and heal the world."
She laughed under her breath. It wasn't a happy laugh.
"Then he collapsed one day. Seizures. Skin went cold. Doctors didn't know what it was. The Watch called it relic exposure, but even they didn't have a clue to what it really was. Just took him in for treatment and stopped answering questions."
I stayed quiet. What could I even say?
"I visit him when I can," she added. "But he barely wakes up anymore. And when he does, he's not all there. Like part of him's still somewhere else."
She looked down at her wrist, running a thumb over the blue band.
"That's why I'm here. Not for glory or points or whatever crap they think motivates us. I want to figure out what happened to him. And if relics really are real… then maybe there's a way to fix what they broke."
Her voice wavered for half a second—but she straightened, folding the emotion back into something quiet and composed.
"Anyway. That's my story," she said. "Don't go getting weird about it."
"I won't," I said, softer than I meant to.