The walk back through the city wasn't peaceful.
It was too quiet.
Not the calm kind of quiet—this was the kind that settles after something splits. No one knew what to say, and the silence only made it worse.
Niri walked ahead of them now. Her steps weren't fast or loud, but they didn't land the same. She moved like gravity didn't grip her fully. Like she was thinking about every single motion.
Qiri noticed first. She slowed a little, just enough for Ronan to catch up beside her.
"She's not walking like before," Qiri muttered.
Ronan gave her a quick glance. "You mean quiet?"
"No," she said. "She's always quiet. This is different."
They both looked ahead.
Niri's shoulders were stiff. Her hands hung just loose enough to not look clenched, but her fingers twitched now and then. Her head didn't move. No glances to the sides. No scanning. Just forward. Locked.
Ronan tilted his head. "She's off. Ever since that guy started talking about that ship."
"Retired officer," Qiri corrected, but her voice was tight.
"Sure," Ronan said. "But whatever he was, he shook her up."
"I don't think it was the story," Qiri said. "It was the drawing. The way she looked at it—like she'd been inside it."
Ronan exhaled slowly. "You think she recognized it?"
"I don't know what to think."
They didn't push it. Just followed. The further they walked, the more off-balance things felt. Niri didn't look back. Didn't speak.
The Academy gates came into view—a clean arc of alloy and light, watched by a trio of Grounx cadets posted near the entrance.
Niri slowed as she approached.
The Grounx leader stepped forward, wide-shouldered and armored in deep green with silver streaks—rank marks. His helmet was clipped to his belt. His face was broad, heavy-boned, his jaw lined with old scars.
"You," he said, pointing.
Niri stopped without flinching.
The Grounx's eyes narrowed. "You're the criminal scum who suggested planetary bombardment in Rhiv's class."
Before Niri could respond—before she even moved—he stepped in and drove his boot straight into her ribs.
The hit was brutal. Clean. She was airborne before her body reacted.
She slammed into the plaza stone with a dull crunch, slid a meter, and rolled to a stop on her back.
Ronan froze. Qiri screamed.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she shouted, rushing forward.
The Grounx didn't answer. His second in command stepped forward, teeth bared.
"She's a threat," he growled. "She talks like a war criminal."
Qiri dropped beside Niri, gripping her shoulders. But Niri was already pushing herself up. Slowly. No sound. No cry of pain.
She rose to her feet like her body was on rails.
Her eyes—
They didn't blink.
That stare hit like a cold wall. Not rage. Not fear.
Just—
Cold.
Unshakable.
The Grounx who kicked her took a step back without realizing it.
Ronan grabbed Qiri's arm. "We need to go."
But one of the Grounx sneered at him. "If I were you, Ronan, I'd be careful who I share air with. That thing doesn't belong here."
Niri didn't speak. She didn't have to.
Her gaze was a blade. A slow one. Everyone in the courtyard felt it.
Qiri stared at her, jaw tight. "Niri," she said. "You're scaring me. Stop."
Niri's head turned slightly, eyes still unreadable. "What am I doing?"
"You're—" Qiri faltered. "You're not like you were. Not since we left the café. You act like something dangerous."
Niri blinked once. Then again, slower. The tension drained slightly from her shoulders.
"Sorry," she said. "Too many thoughts."
And just like that, she started walking.
Back toward the dorms.
Like nothing happened.
Like the floor had held her weight all along.
The walk back to the dorm was strained, burdened by the tension of unspoken thoughts. Ronan and Qiri stayed close behind Niri, exchanging uneasy glances but saying nothing. Niri moved forward steadily, her posture rigid but her gait disturbingly untroubled, as if the violent encounter with the Grounx cadet had never happened.
Qiri leaned toward Ronan, her feathers rustling anxiously. "She's walking like nothing happened. If that had been me, I'd barely be able to move."
"Yeah," Ronan murmured. His voice was low, cautious, his eyes still fixed on Niri's back. "I'd probably still be on the ground. That kick—no one just walks away from a hit like that."
They reached the dorm without incident, slipping silently into Qiri and Niri's shared room. Niri moved immediately to her small desk, sitting down heavily and pulling the mysterious orb from its resting spot. She began turning it slowly between her fingers, her eyes distant, fixed on nothing at all. It pulsed gently beneath her touch, a slow rhythm that mirrored the careful steadiness of her breathing.
Ronan and Qiri lingered near the doorway, exchanging another uneasy look. Qiri's voice was tentative when she finally spoke. "Niri, are you okay?"
Niri blinked slowly, as if coming back from somewhere far away. She didn't look at them. "Yes," she said quietly. "Just thinking. Too many things."
Ronan stepped closer, arms folded tightly across his chest. His usual ease was missing; anxiety showed plainly in the way his brow creased. "Seriously, though. Are you hurt? That kick was—"
Niri glanced up at him, her expression strangely mild, almost confused by his concern. "Hurt? By what?"
"The kick," Ronan said slowly, disbelief creeping into his tone. "The Grounx kicked you halfway across the plaza."
"Oh," Niri said softly, as though just now remembering. "Yes, it hurt. A little. But it's nothing serious."
"Nothing serious?" Qiri's feathers stood sharply on edge, her voice rising. "Niri, you flew several meters! How is that 'nothing serious'?"
Niri shrugged lightly, returning her attention to the orb, her fingers tracing patterns over its smooth surface. "I've had worse."
Ronan gave Qiri a worried look. He tried to laugh, but it came out strained. "Remind me never to make you angry," he said weakly, attempting to mask his discomfort.
Before anyone could say anything else, all three of their wristpads buzzed simultaneously. Qiri glanced down, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Message from the Chancellor's office," she murmured, her voice tight.
"No classes tomorrow," Ronan read aloud from his own screen, disbelief clear in his voice. "Mandatory attendance for all students at the auditorium. Chancellor Yvith will address the student body."
Qiri's expression paled slightly, her feathers flattening close to her frame. "That's... unprecedented. The Chancellor never directly addresses students."
Ronan exhaled sharply, his anxiety now fully apparent. "You think this has to do with what happened today? The Grounx… Niri?"
Qiri met his eyes, a shared fear passing silently between them. "Maybe. I mean, violence between students... especially involving someone sponsored directly by the Chancellor herself..." Her voice trailed off, heavy with worry.
Ronan shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking toward Niri, who seemed not to notice their conversation at all, her focus absorbed entirely by the softly glowing orb. "If the Chancellor is stepping in personally," he muttered, "the repercussions could be severe."
"Expulsion," Qiri whispered. The word hung in the air between them, cold and final. Both looked at Niri again, her quiet stillness now somehow more alarming than her earlier intensity. She appeared detached from the world around her, lost in thought, unaware or perhaps uncaring of the weighty implications hanging over her head.
Ronan moved closer to Qiri, dropping his voice even lower. "If she's expelled, where would she go? What would happen to her?"
"I don't know," Qiri admitted softly. "But after tonight... I don't think anywhere would be safe for her."
They stood quietly for a moment, watching their silent, distant friend. The unknown stretched before them, dark and uncertain, and both feeling tomorrow would change everything.