"Yes, yes. You removed his most of his scars. Quite vain of you, really."

"We both know that was an accident."

Before we can make it halfway across the room, a group of first-year fires approaches us. Cade leads them, his slight frame almost lost among his more muscular companions. When he sees Raith, his face lights up with unmistakable relief.

I know Raith was still keeping in touch with the other fires, but they’re probably happy to see me up and moving. It means Raith won’t be locked away in his room for hours a day anymore.

"Sir," Cade says, the title sounding natural despite the fact that they're all supposedly equals as first-years. The others echo the greeting with similar reverence, standing straighter as Raith's attention falls on them.

"Sir?" I mutter under my breath to Raith, but he ignores my comment.

"Report," Raith says, his voice taking on a tone of quiet authority I've rarely heard.

"No incidents since yesterday," Cade responds promptly. "We've maintained the patrol rotations as you instructed. Tifa and Jenner caught a couple of Malakai's waters trying to access the eastern training rooms, but they backed off when confronted."

Raith nods, his expression giving away nothing, but I can sense his approval. "Good. Any progress with the earths?"

"Two more joined us this morning," says a tall girl with intricate burn scars running down her neck—training accidents, most likely. Fire affinities have access to one of the most deadly forms of magic, but also the most dangerous to learn. Almost all the fires bear some small scars by now.

"Keep building those relationships," Raith instructs. "We need every ally we can get."

"Yes, Sir," they respond in near-unison.

Raith's eyes fall on Cade, softening almost imperceptibly. "How's your neck?"

The boy's hand rises unconsciously to the small cut that has scabbed over and healed from the confrontation a few days back. "Fine, sir."

"And you're not going anywhere alone?"

"No, sir. I've been with Tifa or Jenner at all times, just like you said."

Raith clasps Cade’s shoulder briefly. "Good. Keep it that way." He glances at the others. "All of you, be vigilant. Two more days until the Crucible. Stay in groups, stick to the plan, and remember what we’ve practiced. Anyone who leaves sight of the group for any period of time needs to give the password before they’re trusted again.”

They nod, their expressions solemn yet determined. The respect in their eyes isn't just deference to strength—it's something deeper, something earned. These students look at Raith the way soldiers might look at a general they'd willingly follow into battle.

"Dismissed," Raith says, and they disperse with military precision, though Cade lingers a moment longer.

"The siphon, Sir," he says quietly. "Is it true it was targeting you specifically?"

Raith's expression hardens. "Focus on what you can control, Cade. Let me worry about the rest."