Freya shoots me a sideways glance before turning to face me completely and crossing her arms. She bites the corner of her mouth while staring at my hand still extended in her direction, as if that simple gesture were some kind of carefully laid trap.

That’s probably exactly what she’s thinking.

"Come on... you have nothing to lose."

"I do... my life. Following you means death."

"Ouch..."

That’s all I manage to answer. I can’t really say she’s wrong, either. Any attempt to defend myself would only open space for another exchange of barbs, and honestly, I’m already tired of that game.

So I let my shoulders fall on purpose, faking an almost theatrical defeat, as if her words really hit home.

Maybe her words did land a little, when I look at Lola’s heartbeat on my HUD and feel the guilt.

But in the end, I’m done holding a pose all the time.

With Freya, normal diplomacy simply doesn’t work. My passive and hers repel each other like two animals fighting over the same patch of territory. Chaos Theory loses its mind near her at such an absurd level that any friendly approach feels artificial before it even begins. And her passive does the same in return.

Freya alternates her gaze between my face and my hand again.

For an instant, I almost feel the ice of her hostility cracking. At least, I hoped so.

She tries to touch my hand once. Hesitates. Tries again. On the third attempt, before she can pull back, I take her arm and hold her hand firmly in mine, trying to sustain the gentlest smile I can produce at that moment.

Even so, her face stays impossible to read.

Freya Gunnulf seems to exist in a constant state of war against the world.

I shake my head slowly, in disagreement.

"You aren’t the only one with a passive screaming danger when someone gets close. Mine loses its mind near you too... it’s like a prison riot going off inside my head."

I decide to be honest.

Rhayne is right about some things. Not everyone responds well to social games or subtle manipulation. Some people just value brutal sincerity above any mask.

And I’ve already lived too long surrounded by liars in the trenches.

"...but even so, I’m trying to understand you and be at least minimally sociable. So... can we go?"

Freya stays motionless for a few more seconds before finally releasing my hand and moving behind me.

"I follow... you lead. I don’t want anyone I don’t trust at my back."

I breathe in again and start climbing the remaining steps of the spiral staircase.

"Wasn’t it here on the ninth floor?" she asks after a few paces.

"No. It’s on the tenth. The top floor."

Freya lets out a sigh so heavy it sounds like she just received a life sentence.

The reason I want to bring her with me is simple: political human shield.

No one inside the academy would dare try anything against me while Freya Gunnulf is at my side.

When we finally approach the top, I feel her presence shift.

It isn’t anything physical. It’s instinctive.

Freya suddenly turns uneasy, as if she’s noticed something before I have. Her shoulders harden. Her breathing slows. Even her steps grow more careful.

"Something wrong?"

"No... it’s... that... well... nothing. No problem."

"Then let’s go."

She’s far too strange.

Freya isn’t sneaky. She isn’t manipulative. She’s the type who spies out of curiosity but resolves everything by force, walking straight at the target. Watching her hesitate this way puts me on more alert than any explicit threat.

"Do you really... want me to go with you?" she asks.

It’s only then I notice the cold sweat sliding discreetly near her temple.

It’s the first time I see her like this.

Is she feeling sick?

I push the door of the top floor open slowly.

The observatory opens before us in an almost sacred silence.

Different from the other floors crowded with books, this place feels like it belongs to another world. The entire ceiling is formed by an enormous reinforced glass dome, revealing the celestial ocean above Thirstfall. Dark-blue currents cross the sky slowly, like suspended rivers flowing inverted above our heads, while colossal silhouettes of marine creatures swim in the depths of that impossible firmament.

At the center of the room stands a monstrous telescope mounted on a circular structure of darkened bronze. Ancient runes run across the entire metallic body of the instrument, pulsing in soft blue lights as small gears turn on their own at precise intervals. Around it, dozens of tables are covered with celestial maps drawn by hand, curved rulers, runic lenses, hydraulic astrolabes, and small globes filled with shining liquids that simulate ocean currents in miniature.

The whole room smells of old paper, cold metal, and salt water.

"I wonder how these people study astronomy in a world where the sky is literally an ocean..." I murmur without thinking.

"You have a valid point," Freya answers automatically, realizing too late I wasn’t speaking to her.

I keep walking slowly, circling around the enormous telescope while looking for whoever called me up here.

Freya, on the other hand, stays close to the entrance.

She doesn’t even try to advance deeper into the room.

Her hesitation is starting to genuinely bother me.

Then, little by little, a luxurious desk begins to appear in my field of vision behind the central structure of the observatory.

And sitting behind it, a man.

Of course.

Of course Freya would be uncomfortable.

Chancellor Dean sits with his elbows resting on the desk, his fingers interlaced in front of his face. His dark dreadlocks fall partially over his eyes while he watches me in absolute silence. There’s no smile. There’s no greeting. Just that gaze, weighing me down to the bone.

And the look he gives me...

For an entire second, I think it’s going to be the last one of my entire life.