Class had just ended. Students streamed toward the exits, laughter and tired groans mixing with the hum of the cooling systems. Gear was being stowed, lockers slammed.

Y/n hung back, wiping a sleeve across their brow. The usual post-class bustle swirled around them.

That’s when they saw it. On the polished obsidian floor, near the bench where the top students usually left their things, a small, metallic glint.

A keychain. Simple, silver, with a single, elegant key. Attached was a tiny, intricate charm—a stylized sun.

Xavier’s. He was always spinning it around his finger, a absent-minded habit as he walked the halls, lost in thought.

Y/n looked up, scanning the thinning crowd. The tall, blonde figure was already at the far archway, slipping out into the colonnade without a backward glance.

If he’d already left the academy grounds and realized his keys were missing… the main gates were biometric, but his private residence? No one even knew where it was. He’d be locked out.

Without another thought, Y/n snatched the keys from the floor. The metal was still warm.

They broke into a run, weaving through the last few students, the keychain clenched tight in their fist.

The academy's grand colonnade was bathed in the late afternoon light of Philos’s twin suns. The light here had a quality—it pooled, it clung, it made everything look slightly ethereal.

And there, about fifty meters ahead, walking with that familiar, unhurried grace, was Xavier. The light did seem to follow him, haloing his blonde hair and the broad line of his shoulders.

Y/n’s footsteps echoed on the marble. They were closing the gap.