He sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. Gray stirred slightly and the motion, blinking its azure eyes before letting out a soft huff and curling tighter.

Aston's lips twitched faintly. For all his brooding, he knew at least one thing for certain.

"Guess you're a 'he' after all," he muttered under his breath, recalling the awkward but undeniable truth he'd discovered a few days ago during a bath—an anatomical confirmation he hadn't exactly been seeking.

Gray's tail flicked as if in mild indignation.

"Sorry, sorry," Aston whispered with a small chuckle. "Didn't mean to bring it up again."

But then his gaze returned to the curtain… to Mirage.

Silent. Obedient. Mysterious.

Unlike Gray, he couldn't even say what gender Mirage was. It had never spoken—barely made a hoot, apart from that gentle wind-chime cry. He'd never thought to ask—well, how could he ask?

Well, if it is about asking…

Hey, Nova. Can you confirm Mirage's gender?

[The Glasswing Owl—Mirage—is a female.]

A small blink of surprise.

A girl?

He stared at the curtain a moment longer, as if expecting Mirage to somehow in elegant acknowledgement. But she didn't stir—just the quiet, steady presence she always offered, loyal as ever.

Aston felt… guilty. Not because she was a female, but because it took him this long to even wonder.

She had followed him without complaint, obeyed without question. Had risked herself more than once in complete silence.

And I never cared to know… cared to ask…

His gaze shifted to Gray. The little kitten lay sprawled out like royalty.

"I've been treating you both like weapons," Aston said quietly, his voice not sharp, but measured. Confessional. "Useful. Precise. Predictable. And if I'm being honest… that's all I needed you to be."

Gray's ear twitched, and his eyes cracked open, regarding Aston with sleepy disinterest. Mirage remained hidden behind the curtain, motionless.

"But that's not enough anymore." He drew in a breath, then exhaled slowly. "You are not tools. You are my companions. My partners."

He stood and stepped toward the curtain, lowering it gently. Mirage blinked once in sudden light, her glass-feathered plumage catching a glint from the lamps. Their eyes met—hers as unreadable as always.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"I'll do better," he said.

Gray gave a single, slow tail-flick—annoyed, maybe. Or acknowledging. It was hard to tell with cats.

"But you'll have to be patient with me." Aston glanced between the two of them. "I don't know how to do this the right way yet… but I want to learn."

He crouched beside Gray and ran a hand along the soft fur between the little cat's ears. A grumble, then a lean into his palm.

Behind him, Mirage gave a soft trill—barely a breath of sound, but it was there.

And in that quiet, for the first time in a long while, Aston felt a bond begin to form—not one born of command or necessity… but of intent.

—

Aston woke before the first bell rang.

The dormitory was hushed in the bluish stillness of early dawn, lit only by the faint ambient glow of the city's skyglass veins running through the academy walls. His eyes opened without resistance—no grogginess, no alarm. Just alertness born from his habit.

He sat up, blanket sliding off his shoulders.

The first thing he noticed was the quiet.

The second—Ren's bed. Still untouched.

The blanket was just as he'd seen it last night: neatly folded at the edge, not a wrinkle out of place. No satchel. No boots. Not even the faint scent of someone having slept there.

Had he never returned? Was he out of the academy?

He glanced at the small clock ticking faintly on the wall. 05:13 AM.

Aston didn't dwell on it long.

Instead, he stood, stretched once, and moved into his morning routine. Towel. Bath essentials. Wash basin. Fresh uniform. His movements were smooth, practiced, and efficient.

Gray remained curled up in his corner of the bed, one paw over his face, deep in sleep. Mirage was awake—perched by the window, feathers subtly glowing in dawnlight, watching the horizon like she always did.

He looked at the both of them—and this time, offered a quiet smile.

"Let's get ready. It might be another hard one."

—

Aston stepped out of the cafeteria, letting the door swing shut behind him. The morning air was crisp, laced with the faint scent of moss and dew from the academy's hillside terraces.

Gray padded along beside him, licking the last remnants of stew from his whiskers, tail swishing idly. Mirage followed silently above, gliding low just overhead—her wings catching the early sun like panes of translucent stained glass.

He glanced down at the small display of the time in his phone. 7:32 AM.

Almost thirty minutes before class.

"Not bad," he murmured, shifting his satchel over one shoulder. "Let's not make this a rare thing."

Today was Tuesday. Which meant—

SAD-100: Scouting Tactics and Terrain Adaptation with Instructor Oscar at eight.

Around him, other first-years were making their way toward the eastern training zone within the campus—they didn't go to the Spire of Dawn this time. Some of the students had their belts askew, a few still brushing crumbs off their robes from breakfast.

Even Aston felt a bit too polished in his uniform—pressed, formal, suited for lecture halls, not fieldwork. He adjusted his satchel and kept walking.

Ahead, the silhouette of the Field Ops Pavilion loomed from the morning haze—steel framed, arched roof, and wide open to the surrounding training groves. A few older students passed by in streamlined combat utilities, packs slung across their backs. Aston caught a few side glances and half-smirks directed at the robed crowd of first-years trailing in behind him.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.