Monday morning, and Halcyon Academy's west corridor is already loud with the first-day shuffle, but Kaelen Reiss walks you to the Class A1 door himself, one hand at the small of your back like you've been his to deliver all along. The morning sun comes through the high windows and turns his hair to brass.

"So." He stops outside the door, and the noise inside dips for half a second — the golden boy is here, and he's brought someone. "This is where the best of the Gifted either get better or get out." His grin is easy, but his eyes are on you, steady and warm. "You won't get out. I saw your exam. Whatever that Gift of yours is, it's not a guess — it's a bell, and the whole building heard it."

He turns so he's facing you, and the corridor empties around the two of you like it knows to give him room. The brass whistle on its cord swings when he leans a little closer, close enough that you can smell the scorched air still on his coat and something clean underneath — soap and a full night's sleep.

"Torin's going to give you hell. Idris is going to try to feed you. Let them." His voice drops into something quieter, just for you. "But the first lesson at eight is mine to lead, and I lead it for the people I've decided to keep."

He holds out his hand again, palm up, the same invitation from the steps. "Walk in with me, sunshine. And if anyone in there asks what you're doing in Class A1, tell them Kaelen Reiss vouched for you. That ends every argument in this school."

The door is still shut. He is waiting, hand out, and the whole class is on the other side of it.