Chapter 35: Back To Reality

Astrid

I woke in my own bed for the first time in days, and the relief hit me almost immediately. No sleeping bag. No dirt caked into every crease of my clothes. No insects crawling somewhere nearby. No worrying about getting lost between checkpoints.

I got dressed and wandered into the kitchen, expecting quiet. Instead, I found Xander staring into the open refrigerator like it had personally wronged him.

"We have a problem," he announced.

"What?"

"There’s no food."

I looked past him. The shelves were fully stocked. "There’s plenty of food."

"Nothing I want."

"That’s not the same thing."

He looked genuinely offended. "You’re supposed to support me."

"I’ve known you long enough to know that supporting you would be a terrible decision."

He launched into a lengthy complaint about the wilderness food while I started pulling ingredients together for something simple. He watched me work for a moment.

"You know," he said, "you’ve become very domestic."

I nearly dropped the pan. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," he said, grinning.

I threw a dish towel at him, which he caught with irritating ease.

Reed walked in a moment later, and I found myself suddenly, uselessly aware of my own posture. Not because he was doing anything. Just because I remembered the bed. The warmth. Waking up against his shoulder. His quiet morning voice.

I told myself it meant nothing.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, casual.

I froze for half a second. "Yes."

Xander glanced between us, a smile starting to form.

"Don’t," I said, pointing at him.

"I didn’t say anything."

"You were about to."

"I was thinking."

"That’s worse."

"Eat your breakfast," Reed told him, giving him a warning look.

Xander obeyed, still visibly entertained.

The awkwardness hadn’t fully disappeared. But it no longer felt like something that could actually push us apart. We were simply adjusting, the three of us settling into whatever this had become.

Sitting there while Xander argued with me about breakfast and Reed read quietly beside us, I noticed how ordinary it all felt. A few weeks ago, I would have felt like an intruder in this apartment. Now it felt almost like a home.

The thought made me uncomfortable, so I pushed it aside quickly. Don’t get attached.

We arrived at the academy not long after, and the difference from the woods hit immediately, students everywhere, phones out, uniforms, noise, teachers calling out reminders about overdue assignments.

Ivy came running the second she spotted me. "We’re alive!"

"We were gone for three days," I said, laughing.

"Exactly. Three entire days."

She launched into everything I’d apparently missed, and by the time we reached the main hallway, I noticed several students glancing my way, whispering as we passed.

"They’re still talking about you," Ivy said.

"About what?"

She gave me a look. "You, Reed, and Xander disappearing together in the woods."

"We were assigned together."

"That has never stopped anyone from making things interesting."

Someone nearby whispered, "She’s practically attached to them now."

Another voice added, "I heard the twins protected her."

I tried to ignore it, though instead of the usual embarrassment, I found myself thinking about the moments they actually had protected me. Reed’s hand catching my wrist. Xander’s jacket around my shoulders.

They’re my friends. That’s all, I told myself, and left it there.

Our first class discussed the wilderness experience, the professor asking what everyone had learned. The answers ranged from ridiculous to mildly ridiculous.

"I learned that sleeping on the ground should be illegal," one student offered.

"I learned that Xander Ashwood cannot cook," another added.

"That was one time!" Xander protested from across the room.

I laughed along with everyone else. When the professor finally reached me, I thought for a moment before answering honestly.

"That surviving alone isn’t always the same as surviving well," I said.

Reed looked at me, something quiet and understanding passing across his face. He knew exactly what I meant.

Combat training came later, and I was paired with a student who clearly assumed I’d be an easy match.

"Don’t worry. I’ll take it easy on you," he said.

"Please don’t."

He didn’t seem to understand what I meant until the exercise started and I used his own momentum against him, catching him off balance and taking him down with technique rather than strength. The class reacted immediately.

Xander was delighted. "That’s what I’m talking about!"

"Please stop announcing everything I do," I said.

"I’m supporting you."

The instructor nodded approvingly. "You don’t have the physical advantage. So you compensate with timing."

"Yes, sir," I said, unable to hide my satisfaction entirely.

Reed caught up with me after class. "Your footwork improved."

"You noticed?"

"I notice most things."

I smiled. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"It is."

I didn’t quite know how to respond, and Xander appeared before I had to figure it out. "He’s right. You were impressive."

"Was that another compliment?" I asked, looking between them.

Xander shrugged. "Don’t get used to it."

I smiled anyway, and the three of us walked together toward the central hall, something comfortable settling around us that I didn’t examine too closely.

There, I noticed a large digital display I’d never paid much attention to before. Academy Rankings, it read, student names scrolling in tiered columns.

Ivy explained that students earned points through academics, combat, practical training, and competitions, higher rankings unlocking better opportunities across the academy.

"So it’s basically a competition?" I asked.

"It’s worse," Ivy said.

"It’s fun," Xander corrected, overhearing.

Ivy looked horrified. "That’s because you’re always near the top."

"Rankings matter," Reed added.

I scanned the board and found the twins near the top almost immediately, Reed’s name sitting among the highest-ranked seniors, Xander’s right beside his.

Then I found my own name, buried near the very bottom.

I wasn’t offended. Something else sparked instead, small and sharp and entirely unfamiliar.

A bell rang out across the academy, the Headmaster’s voice following over the speakers, announcing the first major ranking assessment of the semester would begin the next morning.

Students reacted immediately, some excited, some panicked.

"Tomorrow?" Ivy groaned.

"Finally," Xander said, amused.

I looked back at the board, at my own name sitting so far below everyone else’s. I thought about the student in combat class who’d assumed I’d be easy to beat. I thought about every person who’d decided what I could or couldn’t do before actually finding out.

Something in my expression must have shifted, because Reed noticed immediately.

"You’re thinking about competing," he said.

"Maybe."

Xander grinned. "Oh, this should be fun."

"Why?" I asked, folding my arms.

"Because I know that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you’re about to make someone’s life difficult."

I couldn’t help smiling.

Standing there before the board, I didn’t see my low ranking as something that defined me.

I saw it as a challenge.

And tomorrow, I intended to climb.