Qiri and Ronan walked side by side through the main corridor, the soft glow of overhead guide lights bouncing off the polished floor. The air was calmer now, but not quiet. Conversations still buzzed from passing cadets, and every now and then, Qiri caught fragments:
"…she's the last one…"
"We already know that but when you hear it from officials
Make it even more disturbing the hole situation" Ronan said..
"…Chancellor said it, didn't she? Sponsored directly…"
"…and Porl still kicked her? Idiot…"
Ronan leaned toward Qiri with a crooked smile. "She's something else, huh? Everyone's whispering now. Like she just landed from some ancient shuttle."
Qiri didn't smile. Her feathers shifted with unease. "Yeah. They'll all talk now. They'll out her, corner her. She didn't ask for that."
"Doesn't seem like the type who likes being watched," Ronan said, almost thoughtfully. "But she's got attention now. Every corridor, every class."
They reached the enrollment wing and checked in. Qiri scanned her wristband, confirming her participation in the excavation effort.
"Archaeology and support science, confirmed," the console blinked.
Ronan tapped his own pad next. "Xeno-track, approved."
He stepped away with a mock salute to no one in particular. "And just like that, we're going on a field trip."
Qiri rolled her eyes but didn't argue. They headed to the cadine next—one of the quieter mess halls reserved for students from the Academy core sectors.
The place was half full, more subdued than usual. Still, the shift in how cadets glanced at them—especially at Qiri—was obvious.
"They think we know more than we do," Qiri muttered.
Ronan picked a small corner table near the window, one far from the main clusters. "Let them think. At least no one's trying to pick a fight."
They gathered a tray for Niri—simple food, warm, familiar. Bread, some slow-cooked roots, a clear broth with minerals. Ronan balanced it carefully as they sat.
"She'll want something real after today," he said.
Qiri nodded. "She'll need it."
They sat in silence for a while, waiting. The seat beside them remained empty. The tray untouched.
Ronan leaned forward, elbows on the table. "We're going with her. At least that's something. Even if the rest of the Academy starts spinning wild stories, we'll be there."
"We can't fix it," Qiri said, voice low. "But yeah. We can at least stand with her."
Ronan shook his head slightly. "Still can't believe she just stood up after that kick. Like it didn't even register."
Qiri let out a breath. "I know. I watched her ribs take that impact. She should've been half-conscious."
"She didn't even wince," Ronan muttered. "That's not training. That's... something else."
Qiri looked down at the tray. "She scares you?"
Ronan blinked. "No. But... she unsettles me. Not because I think she's dangerous. Because I don't know how much she's hiding just to get through the day."
Qiri's feathers twitched. "And you heard what the Chancellor said. If that hit had been worse—if she'd died…"
"Gone. Like, completely," Ronan said. "No records. No lineage. Just erased."
"Which makes what Porl did even more insane," Qiri muttered. "And yet... I bet Drudru finds a way to keep him in."
Ronan nodded. "He's Grounx elite. Probably royal. I doubt they're letting one of their own take a fall for this. Especially not in front of the Chancellor."
"He'll find a way to spin it," Qiri said bitterly. "Make Porl the victim. Misunderstood. Provoked, maybe."
Ronan scoffed. "Porl's a rockhead. Fists before facts. They only think with their pride and whatever honor code they keep rewriting."
"I just hope Niri doesn't pay the price for it," Qiri said.
"She already did," Ronan said softly. "But at least... she didn't fall."
They sat in silence again, both watching the empty seat across the table.
Waiting for her.
Niri stepped into the Chancellor's private medical bay. The lights inside were dimmer than she expected—cool-toned and low, casting sharp shadows on the metal walls. The door slid shut behind her with a hiss, locking her in silence. She was alone.
No assistants. No staff. Just a sterile room lined with narrow cabinets and scanning arms tucked into the ceiling.
She didn't sit. Not yet.
Her gaze scanned the space, uncertain if she was meant to wait or start something on her own. The air smelled like cleaned metal and ionized filters. It wasn't warm. It wasn't welcoming.
Then the door opened again.
Chancellor Yvith Korr entered—sharp, straight-backed, wings folded tight behind her. Her boots clicked softly on the metal floor as she approached.
"Good evening, Niri," she said. "Human."
Niri didn't flinch. "Could be better," she said, her tone dry. Flat. Sarcastic—but not rude.
Yvith didn't acknowledge the remark with a smile. She walked to the side console, checked something on the screen, and turned back to Niri.
"You may lay down, please. We need to examine the damage to your ribs."
"It's not necessary," Niri said, staying upright. "I can handle it."
The Chancellor looked at her, gaze hard and unreadable.
The kind of look that wasn't asking.
Niri hesitated. Then she stepped slowly to the medical platform and sat on the edge. It adjusted automatically beneath her weight. Cold against her back. She lay down.
A second door opened. A tall figure stepped inside—not uniformed, not military. He was lanky, skin a mottled gray with pale green veins like roots running up from his collar to his jaw. His hands were gloved in soft black synthcloth.
He carried a case tucked under one arm and a small reader clipped to his belt.
The Chancellor turned to him. "Mr. Rout," she said. "This matter is top confidential. You will sign a nondisclosure agreement before touching a single scan."
The figure nodded once. "Understood, Chancellor." His voice was raspy but smooth. Professional.
She handed him a pad. He tapped it. Signed. She handed him a second file.
"She is the last of her kind," Yvith said bluntly. "As of this moment, you are her assigned medical liaison. You will report directly to me. Nothing more."
Mr. Rout glanced at Niri, then looked back at the Chancellor. "I've worked in quiet cases before. You chose the right person."
"That's why you're here."
Yvith stepped aside.
Rout turned toward Niri, his gaze more clinical than curious. "Miss," he said. "We'll begin now. Just stay still."
Niri gave a single nod. Her jaw was tight.
He moved to the side panel and powered up the scanner. A dull hum rose from the machine. Light spread across the upper surface of the bed, then narrowed into three scanning lines.
"Kick to the ribs?" he asked, checking the display.
"Grounx cadet," the Chancellor said from behind. "Full force. No warning."
Rout blinked. "Surprised she's conscious, then."
Niri said nothing.
He ran a palm scanner just above her torso, eyes flicking back to the readout. "Multiple contusions. Surface bruising. Minor hairline fracture, lower left rib. No organ bleed, no spinal compression. Breathing shallow, but that's expected."
He moved with efficiency, adjusting settings, switching tools.
Niri stared up at the ceiling, expression blank. Her breathing stayed level, but each inhale pulled tight.
"Pain level?" Rout asked.
"Manageable," she said.
He paused. "That's not a number."
She glanced at him. "Three. Maybe four."
Rout made a note. "For most cadets, this would be a six. Maybe seven."
"I'm not most cadets."
"No," he said simply. "You're not."
He lifted a tube of compression gel and handed it to her. "This will reduce swelling. Rub it in three times a day. I'll seal the fracture now. You'll be sore for two cycles, but functional."
He loaded a tool from his kit—slender and needle-tipped—and applied it to her side. A sharp click. A pulse of heat. Niri clenched her jaw but didn't make a sound.
Yvith stepped closer. "Once this is complete, you'll return to your dorm. You will not speak of this to anyone outside of your circle. You were assigned here for your safety. Not for recognition."
"I didn't ask for recognition," Niri said, voice quiet.
"I know," the Chancellor replied.
Mr. Rout finished the scan and sealed the case. "She's clear. Nothing permanent. No internal bleed. Remarkable resilience."
He turned to Yvith. "You chose well. But she should be monitored. If she takes another hit like this—"
"She won't," Yvith said.
Niri sat up, the cold air brushing her skin as she moved.
Rout handed her the gel tube.
Yvith watched her closely.
"You're dismissed, Mr. Rout," the Chancellor said.
He nodded once and left, the door sealing quietly behind him.
Yvith remained still.
Niri looked up at her. "Is this the part where you remind me how fragile I am?"
"No," Yvith said. "This is the part where I remind you that surviving isn't the same as being invisible."
She stepped closer. "You were nearly erased in plain view. You understand what that would have meant."
Niri looked away.
Yvith didn't press.
Instead, she said: "Keep your head down. Perform well. And do not give them an excuse to question why you're here."
Niri stood, clutching the gel in one hand. "That won't be hard. They're already questioning everything."
Yvith nodded once. "Then give them nothing but results."
Niri turned and walked toward the door.
Yvith didn't stop her.
And Niri didn't look back.
The medical bay had gone still. Niri was already gone—her presence a memory locked behind a sealed door.
Chancellor Yvith stood at the edge of the diagnostics console, reviewing the encrypted scan logs left by Mr. Rout. The silence hung heavier now.
Then the door slid open again.
Mr. Rout stepped in, a different expression on his face. Not calm. Not neutral. Something closer to disturbed curiosity.
"Miss Chancellor," he said, his voice firmer now. "I have some disturbing results from the biological scan."
Yvith didn't look surprised. "You saw the adrenaline spike."
He nodded. "Yes. But it's not just the levels. The compound is… unique. No synthetic version matches it. No biological analog we know of comes close. It's completely natural. And that means—"
"It makes her valuable," Yvith finished for him. "Extremely."
Rout's face paled. "More than valuable. Dangerous. If this gets out—someone will come for her. Many will."
Yvith's tone stayed cold. "That's why you signed the disclosure."
Rout exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Miss Chancellor… what is she?"
Yvith turned slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "She is human, Mr. Rout. A real one. Gateborn."
Rout went silent. Color drained from his face.
"I understand what that means," he said after a long pause. "I'll keep the secret. Locked tight."trying to keep professional tone.
He swallowed. "That explains why a cadet is in your private chamber. Why the assignment came straight from your office."
Yvith gave a slight nod. "Now you understand the stakes. You will be her personal medical contact from this moment forward. Quiet. Untraceable. If she is injured, she comes here. You treat her. And you say nothing."
Rout didn't argue.
"Understood," he said quietly. "I'll do my job."
"Thank you, Mr. Rout. That will be all."
He turned and left the room, the silence settling once more around Yvith like a warning.