Elias did not know anyone else aboard the Valshynarian vessel that shuttled him through the Void Sea and back to the Gray Academy, but he yearned to make conversation. It was the same airship he had taken with Constance, though it was a different, younger collector in charge of navigation. After prodding her with questions, she explained that, no, she was not transcendent like High Collector Eve but that transcendency wasn't a prerequisite for familiar routes. Coordinates took them most of the way, and from there, her more limited sight could steer them for the rest. This made sense to Elias. Transcendent collectors with the sight could be counted on one hand, or so he had been told. They were surely above simple errands like shuttling people to class.

Indeed, Elias was not the only one peering over the deck into the endless dark, excited for his lessons.

"Pleased to meet you, Elias. Call me Caius. Caius Santori." The blond man was two inches taller than him with blue-green eyes and a lean build. They looked of an age, which was not surprising given the reason for their journey together. Elias had already been informed that most collectors ascended closer to the age he was now, rather than the age he had been when he'd done so in desperation.

"Where are you coming from?" Elias leaned against the bulwark beside him.

"Belrania," Caius said.

"I usually fly over Belrania," Elias confessed, "what with the civil war."

"Understandable," Caius replied. "They said it was supposed to be over by now, but war never is. What kind of collector are you, may I ask? Wait. Let me guess. You look… possibly fast… or maybe clever. But you're armed with a rapier, so I will go with Silver Sanctum."

"Serpent Moon," Elias informed him.

"Serpent Moon." Caius sounded surprised. "No one ever guesses Serpent Moon. You're rare, you lot. I myself am a well-rounded chap, if you hadn't already surmised, which is to say a Four Winds collector. This revelation was a disappointment at first, for you see my family are all Terra Magma sorts, and the assumption was—well, not everything is passed down. I've since come to embrace my identity, however. Balance is underrated and greatly underestimated. When did you ascend?"

"A little over two years ago," Elias said honestly.

Caius recoiled an inch. "How old are you?"

"It was my twenty-second birthday a few days ago." At Elias's request, it had been a low-key affair at The Thirsty Eagle that culminated in a surprise cake (no one was surprised) Bertrand had lovingly baked that afternoon.

"So, you were twenty when you ascended?"

"Nineteen, actually."

"What in heaven or hell—I didn't think they allowed that. An ascendant collector before twenty." Caius seemed as shocked by this revelation as Elias imagined a normal person would be by the existence of collectors and sky rift travel. Would everyone else at the Gray Academy react similarly? It was probably a safe bet.

"Yourself?" Elias returned the question. It seemed like the polite thing to do, and he was genuinely curious.

"I ascended six months ago," Caius said. "Tell me, how is it we've never met before, you and I?"

It was the first time in their conversation that Elias took pause, though he quickly concluded he had no reason to lie. The high collectors had not asked him to do so, and the truth was bound to spill out sooner or later. Probably sooner given their mutual destination, still invisible along the Void Sea's impossible horizon.

And so he told Caius the truth, or most of the truth. It was the same version he had shared with the high collectors, replacing Jalander's lessons with notes left for him by his late father, though he decided against revealing his dad's name. "No one important," he replied when asked about him. That, he supposed, was a lie.

"I struck a deal with the high collectors," Elias eventually explained. "They said I could keep my business if I would be their eyes and ears in the House of Merchants. An important condition was that I come back for this."

"Pfft," Caius said, eyes spinning like a loose fishing reel. "You must have friends in high places."

"I do know Constance Eve," Elias admitted, "and I did Lucas Dawnlight a favor once, though he more than returned it. Plus, Bartholomew Grimsby, but more as a fellow entrepreneur. I actually didn't know he was a collector, or at least I didn't know for certain. I think they all suspected what I was, but they needed evidence."

"How did they get it?"

"My crew and I flew through a few sky rifts. Business reasons. I believed we were being careful, but caution has never been my specialty."

Caius had a grin wider than a hug. "You really are of the Serpent Moon. And apparently already well acquainted with three of five high collectors. I don't think I've ever even exchanged a word with High Collector Eve. As for Grimsby and Dawnlight, that is a strange pairing of allies. I hear they loathe each other."

Elias looked surprised, and so Caius went on: "Dawnlight joined their ranks only a few years ago, and the word is that he and Grimsby have some… ideological differences. Don't ask me for details. It's just what people say."

Elias was not privy to the rumors of the Valshynar and said as much. Though he supposed that would change, as evidenced by this conversation. Would he learn more outside of classes than in them, he wondered? Would he himself become the subject of gossip?

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As if confirming as much, Caius was still shaking his head and smirking. "You truly are something special, my new friend."

* * *

They gathered in the largest wing of the Gray Academy, past another double door at the opposite end of the airy hall Elias had previously taken to the chamber of high collectors. The room he stepped inside now was even bigger than that one, and yet it was also warmer—thermally and figuratively. Its walls were entirely wood-paneled, its floorboards covered with old, dusty Azirian rugs. There were leather couches for sitting, but the sunken room sloped toward its centering stone fireplace, and most who had gathered here simply seated themselves on the steps.

Elias counted heads. There were fourteen in all, including him, assuming they were last to arrive. Everyone looked roughly his age, except one woman Caius mentioned had ascended at thirty-five, which was a little unusual—"but not nearly as unusual as your situation."

Eyes gravitated toward Elias, who immediately noticed he was the only one dressed like an outsider. Their ubiquitous outfit was, as it always was, a green waistcoat with a golden trim, though a few wore matching green jackets, while the women were split between skirts and breeches. Elias peeled off his clay-colored wool coat, which hardly helped. His unusual situation could not have been more plainly apparent. Bertrand once told him that "people wear certain qualities like the clothes on their back," but in this case, he was also quite literally wearing said qualities.

He was certain they had already discussed him in advance of his arrival. They appeared interested, no doubt, but not surprised.

It was a strange sensation, not only their attention but also being here, in that the experience was oddly nostalgic. He had grown accustomed to always being the youngest person in an important room, unshackled by the expectations of age, and suddenly—at twenty-two—he felt fifteen again, like a teenager returning for another year of classes. He sort of resented it. But when he matched eyes with Harriet Thorn, sitting on the steps opposite him, the fireplace warming a single cheek that rounded as she smiled, another feeling took up residence in his prideful mind.

The doors behind them opened once more, though it was not students who entered the common room this time, nor were they strangers to Elias. High Collector Greta Redcaller stepped through first, her head held high, immediately followed by High Collector Jameel Zylas, squinting at the recently ascended as if first impressions might reveal something to him. Constance, meanwhile, was exchanging words with Lucas, who flashed Elias a quick, ever-encouraging glance, while Mr. Grimsby moved like a man with his head in the clouds, floating if not for the requirements of feet.

They gathered in front of the fireplace, backs to the flames, facing fourteen eager young collectors. Mr. Grimsby inched closest to them and, as if fishing it from the bottom of his pocket, found his smile. "Welcome, welcome," he said with a single clap. The room quieted. "Welcome to the Millard Fullmore Common Room, named of course after the audacious founder of the Gray Academy. More memories have been written in this lovely space than in the greatest libraries of the Great Continent, though we do have a very fine library as well."

"For those who traveled far, I hope your journey was a safe and pleasant one," Mr. Grimsby continued. "You have our gratitude for being here this afternoon and for giving us a month of your precious life—obligatory though this is. I suspect all of you are wondering how the next few weeks will unfold, and I would say rather like one of these beautiful Azirian rugs." He gestured toward the maroon carpet beneath his feet, its ornate design faded under many years and countless footsteps. "Let the pattern reveal itself." He cleared his throat before adding, "What I will say is that you will spend time with, and learn from, each of the high collectors. And on that note, I shall cede my humble stage to High Collector Redcaller."

High Collector Redcaller stepped forward like a general to her soldiers. "I know many of you are already quite familiar with the Gray Academy, but for those who are new here"—her searching gaze paused on Elias—"you will find classrooms down the hall to my right, sleeping quarters up the stairwell behind you, and a sparring ring outside that you are free to use at your leisure, albeit with wooden swords and wooden swords only. We will reconvene in this common room on the eighth hour of the morning, so rest responsibly. High Collector Zylas will oversee you tomorrow. As for introductions, we know who you are, and you know who we are, but some of you may be less acquainted with one another. We leave the mingling to you."

As High Collector Redcaller wrapped up her very logistical introduction, Mr. Grimsby retook his humble stage. "Greta forgot to mention the food," he added importantly. "Anyone who knows me at all knows I never forget about the food."

Elias chuckled alongside the old man, reminded of their first meeting at a cheese table.

"Dinner will be provided here in the Millard Fullmore Common Room," Mr. Grimsby explained, "where you are encouraged to… mingle. Now, are there any questions before we leave you to your devices?"

Sitting on the steps beside Elias, Caius raised a hand and asked, "How do we know which room is ours?"

"By sleeping in it," Mr. Grimsby informed him. "There are no assigned rooms, but there are enough of them for everyone here. There are eight on the second floor and seven on the top level, so there should even be one room to spare. Traditionally, the men slept on the second floor and the women on the third, but I'm told tradition has fallen out of fashion, and truth be told, the math didn't always work out."

Aside from someone asking the location of the privy, no more questions were raised after Caius put down his hand. Indeed, everyone seemed to have a crystal-clear sense of their purpose here, certainly more so than Elias. A tense excitement permeated the common room, as if they were sailors out on the bow in those opening seconds before The Emerald Cup. Elias recognized the feeling, and yet he had not been under the impression that their being here was a similar kind of competition. Perhaps he had misconstrued his own intentions with those of his peers.

Which was ironic, the more he thought about it, as Elias was perhaps the most competitive person in Sailor's Rise. But competition existed for a purpose, and his was his own. He cared only that he served his time and secured his independence. Alas, he hardly believed his rehearsed rationale even as he repeated its mantra in his mind.

* * *

Up a spiraling stone stairwell and down a creaking hallway with many doors, Elias found, or rather he chose, his new bedroom for the next month of his life. Caius claimed the room across the hall from him, while the women took over the third floor as was tradition. He could hear their faint footsteps overhead and wondered which were Harriet's.

And then another nostalgic feeling settled in his bones as he placed down his bag. The small space reminded him of Sorea Fairweather's bedroom—and Elias's bedroom for a brief spell when he first arrived in Sailor's Rise with but a single copper to his name. How comfortable he had been sleeping in her featherbed, staring out that second-story window, scribbling fantasies in his notebook by candlelight. He had brought it with him, his notebook. It was not literally the same notebook and hadn't been for years, though Elias felt his myriad musings, calculations, and sketches transcended their mortal vessels.

He found the notebook a new home: a writing desk long since stripped of its varnish, crookedly arranged by a foggy old window that overlooked a bare-branched tree. Yes, he sighed the thought, he really did feel young again.

The impression was not helped by what he saw folded neatly at the foot of his bed: a green waistcoat with a golden trim. He lifted the vest by its shoulders and held it to his chest. It was sized appropriately, but assuming this had been left purposefully for him, how would they have known which room he would select?

The question answered itself. Someone had known exactly which room he would select.

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