The campus was alive with the hum of preparation. Students darted around like caffeinated squirrels, hauling decorations, setting up chairs, and arguing over the placement of the alumni banners. The alchemy wing sent up another puff of neon-colored smoke, and someone nearby yelled, "We said subtle fireworks, not a light show!"
Grey weaved through the chaos with practiced ease, keeping her head low and her movements deliberate. She sidestepped a ladder just as a panicked student carrying an enormous stack of books stumbled by. The books wobbled dangerously, and Grey instinctively reached out, steadying the top of the pile with two fingers.
"Thanks," the student squeaked before disappearing into the crowd.
Grey didn't respond, her gaze already fixed ahead. Her usual stoicism was more a defense mechanism than a personality trait, though you wouldn't catch her admitting that. As she rounded the corner, she caught another snippet of conversation.
"Did you see her? She's like a shadow. So cool."
"Cool? She's terrifying! I heard she once tripped a guy mid-spar so hard he transferred schools!"
Grey sighed. The myths surrounding her never ceased to evolve. She was half-convinced that by next year, someone would claim she could summon thunderstorms with a glare.
She didn't mind the rumors, but they weren't entirely accurate.
The old training yard was a haven for Grey. It wasn't just the solitude—it was the history etched into every scorch mark and chip in the stone. It reminded her of when things were simpler, when her battles were straightforward and free of the tangled politics that now consumed her life.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice the loose pebble underfoot until it was too late. Her ankle wobbled, and she stumbled forward, barely catching herself on the low stone wall.
"Graceful as always."
Grey groaned inwardly at the familiar voice. Turning her head, she saw Crow leaning against a pillar, her arms crossed and a smug grin plastered on her face.
"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Grey said, brushing herself off and refusing to meet Crow's gaze.
"Not when you're here to entertain me." Crow sauntered closer, her boots clicking against the stone. She had a knack for making even the simplest movements seem theatrical.
"Entertain you?" Grey's voice was deadpan. "I didn't realize my clumsiness was a source of joy for you."
"Oh, it's delightful," Crow said with a laugh, leaning casually on the wall beside Grey. "Almost as delightful as that time you tripped during the final trial. Remember? Right in front of the council?"
Grey's ears burned, but her face remained impassive. "I recovered."
"Sure you did." Crow smirked. "After sprawling on the ground for a full ten seconds. It was like watching a turtle try to flip over."
Grey shot her a glare that could have frozen fire, but Crow only grinned wider.
"You're enjoying this too much," Grey muttered.
"Only because you make it so easy." Crow's smirk softened into something resembling fondness. "Besides, it's nice to know you're still human. You've got a reputation now, you know. The untouchable Keeper, too fast to fall."
Grey huffed. "Apparently not fast enough to avoid you."
Crow laughed, a genuine, melodic sound that startled Grey for a moment. She hadn't heard that laugh in years—not since before…
"I do miss this," Crow admitted, her voice quieter now. "Our banter. The way you'd roll your eyes at me when I deliberately mispronounced things just to annoy you."
"You still mispronounce things," Grey said flatly.
"Not on purpose!" Crow protested, though her grin betrayed her lie. "And honestly, it's 'debut,' not 'day-boo.' I don't care what anyone says."
Grey pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's not even close."
"Agree to disagree." Crow waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway, I wanted to see the old yard before the festivities. Nostalgia, you know?"
"Nostalgia," Grey echoed skeptically.
"Fine, maybe I just wanted to see you," Crow said, the smirk creeping back. "But don't let it go to your head."
Grey rolled her eyes. "It's not going anywhere."
They fell into a strange rhythm, walking the perimeter of the training yard. Crow occasionally pointed at old scorch marks and weapon gashes, narrating their origins with dramatic flair.
"And here, we see the infamous Grey versus The Wall incident," Crow announced, gesturing at a dented section of stone. "A fierce battle in which Grey valiantly headbutted her way to victory."
Grey sighed. "I didn't headbutt it. The wall collapsed after a spell ricocheted off my shield."
"Uh-huh." Crow's tone was unconvinced. "Sure, Keeper. Keep rewriting history."
Grey's lips twitched, but she refused to let the smile fully form. "And what about this mark?" She gestured to a shallow groove in the floor. "Your brilliant attempt to use a boomerang blade indoors?"
Crow's cheeks flushed faintly. "Okay, that one wasn't my finest moment."
"It hit you on the way back."
"I said it wasn't my finest moment!"
Grey allowed herself the faintest chuckle, and Crow caught it immediately. "Ah-ha! There it is. The elusive Grey laugh. I knew I could get it out of you."
"You're insufferable," Grey said, shaking her head.
"And yet, here you are, enduring me." Crow's grin softened, and her voice took on a more serious tone. "You always did. Even when I didn't deserve it."
The weight of her words hung in the air, but before Grey could respond, Crow straightened up, her smirk back in place. "Well, I should leave you to your brooding. Can't have you running out of melancholy before the festivities."
"Crow," Grey said, her tone serious.
Crow paused, glancing back.
"Stay out of trouble."
Crow's grin turned sly. "No promises, Keeper."
Later that evening, Grey retreated to her quarters, her mind buzzing. She sat at her desk, staring at the sealed note she had been carrying all day. The crimson wax bore the unmistakable mark of a royal courier.
With steady hands, she broke the seal and unfolded the message.
Your presence is required beyond celebration. A crown is in danger. Keep the amulet close.
Grey's jaw tightened. So, it wasn't just alumni nostalgia pulling her back to Eryndell. There was something far darker at play.
Her fingers brushed against the amulet beneath her cloak, its cold surface a reminder of the weight she carried—not just for herself, but for those who couldn't defend themselves.
She glanced out the window, where the rain had begun to fall in soft, steady drizzles.
The Keeper's duty was never simple. And this time, Grey could feel the storm brewing long before it arrived.