Finn and Ryan are right behind me.
“Well, well,” Finn says, a wide grin tugging at his lips. “Look who’s official now—government badge, shiny title. ‘Echo Squad,’ the brave, the proud, the personally recruited soldier—sounds very cloak-and-dagger. Should I start saluting now?”
Ryan’s voice is deadpan. “I think you’re supposed to bow. Or offer him a blood oath. Something dramatic.”
I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Please don’t. I barely know what I’m doing. Honestly? I feel like I’m standing on the edge of something, and I can’t see the ground.”
“Welcome to adulthood, my friend,” Finn says, his grin softening.
“Or government service,” Ryan adds dryly. “Same thing.”
We all laugh, but it’s a quiet kind of laughter, weighted with the unspoken truth of what lies ahead. Something is shifting, and we can all feel it.
Finn’s voice drops a notch. “You earned it, Noa. After everything with Thorne… most people wouldn’t have made it out of that bay alive. But you? You led.”
My smile falters. “I didn’t have a choice.”
Because there is never a choice, not when it comes toher.
We fall silent, our eyes drifting back toward the quad. The dais stands empty now, white banners still catching the last rays of golden sunlight.
Finn holds his graduation cap to his heart, mock-serious. “Come summer, when you’re off saving the realm or whatever, try to remember the little people.”
I smirk. “You two will be joining me come fall, remember?”
Finn chuckles. “Definitely. Can’t let you have all the fun and adventures by yourself.”
We start to walk slowly back toward the Spanish Steps, a comfortable silence between us, forged of friendship, love, and duty.
I glance toward where the willow tree sways softly in the evening breeze. Beneath its weeping branches, Celeste is waiting.
My voice drops to a whisper. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
Finn and Ryan nod, reading the moment clearly. Finn squeezes my shoulder, and they leave me standing alone, the weight of goodbye pressing down as I head toward the willow tree and the woman I love.
CHAPTER 55
Some tides retreat to gather strength, only to return with the force to shape the shore.
—Traces in the Tide: Water in Elemental Practice
CELESTE
The willow stands like a mythic creature, its green-and-silver arms drooping in sorrow. Fairy lights blink gold against the dusk, casting soft halos of light beneath it. I sit on the stone bench, arms folded, but my eyes flick toward the path at the sound of footsteps.
Noa emerges from the shadows—hands in pockets, posture easy. Too easy. Like this is just a regular day.
I don’t smile. Not fully. Just a flicker that dies before it can grow.
He sees it anyway. Because he seesme—especially the parts I try to hide away.
“So.” His voice is careful, casual on purpose. “Gavrail. You. Europe this summer?”
I nod slowly.
“Old ruins, fancy food, mopey guys in long coats.” A hint of laughter ghosts at the edge of his words, trying to keep it light. “Right up your alley.”
“And you?” I push off the bench and take a step toward him. “Running headfirst into danger with a bunch of glorified Service soldiers? That’s your idea of a good time?”
