Chapter 34: Going Home

Astrid

The academy staff announced on our final morning that the wilderness program was officially over, and everyone would return to Moonshade that afternoon, the news spreading through camp faster than the breakfast line.

The students erupted immediately, cheering, complaining about the food, complaining about sleeping outdoors, the first-years especially loud about finally getting their phones back. Ivy looked ready to cry with happiness.

"I’m never complaining about my dorm again," she declared.

"You complained about your dorm yesterday," I said.

"Yes. But I had a phone yesterday too. That changes the situation."

I laughed, though something surprised me underneath it. I was actually going to miss this place.

I helped Ivy pack, listening to her list everything she planned to do the second she got her phone back. "You survived three days," I teased.

"Barely."

As I folded my own things, I noticed how naturally I’d settled into this strange environment. A few days ago, I’d been desperate to leave. Now I found myself hesitating, glancing toward the treeline more than once.

The strange symbol crossed my mind briefly, along with everything else I still didn’t understand about it. Before I could dwell on it, Xander appeared, bag slung over one shoulder.

"Good news. We’re going home," he announced.

"You sound relieved."

"I’ve spent three days sleeping on the ground. Of course I’m relieved." He studied my face. "You, however, look disappointed."

"I don’t," I said immediately.

"You do."

"You’re imagining things."

"I’m very observant."

I rolled my eyes. He added, casually, "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you survive civilization again."

I laughed. It was such a small exchange, but the familiarity underneath it hadn’t existed a few weeks ago, and I noticed the difference.

I found Reed near the edge of camp later, checking over the group’s equipment before we left, methodically counting through a stack of gear like he intended to personally account for every item.

"Making sure nobody forgot anything?" I asked.

"Someone has to."

I looked around at the trees, the fading fire pits, the emptying camp. "I’m going to miss it."

"The forest?" Reed asked.

I shook my head slightly. "Not exactly."

I didn’t explain further. He seemed to understand anyway.

"You liked being away from everything," he said.

I nodded. "It was quiet."

A pause stretched between us before he spoke again. "You can have quiet at the academy too."

I gave him a skeptical look. "Have you met Xander?"

His mouth twitched. "Unfortunately."

I laughed.

As we prepared to leave, I struggled with one of my bags, the strap catching awkwardly on my shoulder. Reed took it from me without a word.

"I can carry that," I said.

"I know."

He carried it anyway, walking ahead. Xander appeared beside me a moment later.

"Don’t worry. He does that," he said.

"Does what?"

"Pretends he’s not taking care of people."

I looked toward Reed’s back. "And you?"

Xander smiled. "I don’t pretend."

That caught me off guard. Before I could respond, he walked off after his brother, leaving me standing there with the strange, growing certainty that both of them had developed their own ways of looking after me, and that I’d started expecting it without even noticing.

The ride back felt entirely different from the ride into the woods, the mood in the transport almost unrecognizable from the nervous quiet of a few days earlier. Students were loud again, phones back in hand, everyone taking pictures and posting about the trip the second they had signal. Ivy screamed the moment hers powered back on.

"I’m alive!"

I laughed, checking my own things without feeling the same rush of excitement. Instead I looked across the vehicle, where Reed sat quietly reading, and Xander was already arguing loudly with someone over a game on their phone.

Seeing them there, exactly like themselves, settled something warm and unexpected in my chest.

As the academy came into view, I thought about how much had changed since I’d first arrived. I’d expected cruelty from the royal twins, arrogance, the kind of entitlement I’d braced myself for my entire life around people with power.

Instead, Xander had made me laugh more than anyone had in years. Reed had listened when I couldn’t explain myself. Both of them had protected me, cared for me, in their own distinct ways, without ever asking for anything back.

And now, sitting there, I found myself already wondering when I’d see them again once we scattered across campus.

When did they become people I looked for? I thought, and pushed the question away before I could sit with it too long.

We arrived not long after, students scattering toward their dorms in loud, excited clusters. Ivy announced she needed a shower, food, and several uninterrupted hours with her phone, and I laughed as she pulled me along.

"Try not to miss us too much!" Xander called after us.

"Nobody will!" Ivy shouted back.

I turned to leave, but Xander’s voice caught me again. "You didn’t answer."

"Answer what?"

"Whether you’ll miss us."

I stared at him. "Absolutely not."

He grinned. "Liar."

"Xander," Reed said from behind him.

"What?"

"Leave her alone."

I smiled despite myself and kept walking with Ivy.

I glanced back once before we reached the doors. Reed and Xander stood together, Xander saying something that made Reed shake his head, the two of them falling easily into whatever argument came next.

I watched them for a moment longer than I needed to.

I’d gone into that forest expecting to simply survive it.

I hadn’t expected to come out feeling like I’d found something.

Not a home. Not yet.

But maybe the beginning of one.

Before stepping through the academy doors, I noticed one of the forest staff speaking quietly with Professor Lyra near the entrance, her expression tight and serious, hands gesturing sharply as she spoke. I thought again of the symbol, the bloodied cloth, the questions still sitting unanswered in my chest.

For one second, I considered walking over to ask.

Then Lyra glanced up, our eyes meeting briefly across the courtyard. Her expression went carefully blank the moment she noticed me watching.

I decided not to ask.

Not yet.

I turned toward the academy doors instead, and behind me, the forest disappeared from view.

But the questions it left behind didn’t disappear with it.

And I had no idea yet that returning to Moonshade wouldn’t mean returning to the life I’d had before I left, that whatever had started shifting out there in the trees had already followed me home.