As the tension from their clash faded, Fin realized what he had almost done.
"I… I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to do that. She kicked me and I got carried away. Next thing I know, you were grabbing my sword," Fin stuttered, panic rising in his voice.
"I understand, and it's good to take a spar seriously, but it's not me you should apologize to," Cornelius said with a reassuring tone.
"Oh yeah, uh… I'm really sorry, Deryn. It won't happen again."
"I should be the one to apologize. I approached you because I thought you were going to be an easy fight, but turns out I was wrong—so, sorry," Deryn said with a smile, still catching her breath.
Their spar had pushed both to the edge—sweat still clung to Fin's brow, and his limbs ached from the effort. He felt the weight of every movement now, like his body had suddenly remembered just how tired it was.
They might've kept talking, but a sudden noise interrupted them. It was Fin's stomach, gurgling loud enough to echo off the gym walls. Even though the class had felt timeless, the day hadn't stopped—the sun was setting. The school day was over, and it was finally time to eat.
Cornelius clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention.
"All right, that's enough for today. Go to the cafeteria before it closes and hit the showers. Tomorrow, we'll review your performance."
Fin let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing. He looked over at Deryn, who was still catching her breath but had a satisfied smile on her face.
"Cafeteria sounds good," she said, brushing some hair out of her face. "I'm starving."
"Me too," Fin said, chuckling nervously. "Pretty sure everyone heard."
As they left the gymnasium together, Fin couldn't help but glance around one last time. The strange, echoing halls of the Academy still felt foreign, but less so now. He wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in a while, he didn't dread it.
They followed the rest of the students down a wide corridor lined with glowing lanterns, the smell of food already drifting through the air. Fin's stomach growled again, louder this time, and Deryn laughed.
"Let's hurry before your stomach declares war on the rest of us."
He smiled. And maybe for the first time, it wasn't forced.
They all got in line and grabbed a plate. Fin couldn't wait. It had been so long since he'd eaten a warm meal. The lunch lady handed him a generous portion of steak and vegetables—way better than anything he'd gotten in the hospital.
He tore into the food like a starving animal, not even bothering with utensils. Crumbs flew as he devoured everything on the plate, chewing fast and swallowing faster. Other students stared. He was already the weird new kid—no gym clothes, an incident on his first day—and now he was eating with his bare hands like he'd never seen food before.
Fin returned to the counter again and again, asking for more until the lunch lady finally said, "Sorry, kid. I'm not allowed to give you any more."
He sat back down next to Deryn, who hadn't said a word through the whole spectacle. They ate in silence—not because it was awkward, but because Fin was too focused on the food, and Deryn was too stunned to look away from the mess unfolding in front of her.
"Well, you sure were hungry," she finally said with a half-laugh.
"I was. Now I'm just dead tired," Fin replied, rubbing his belly.
Deryn stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Me too. I'm gonna hit the hay. See you tomorrow."
Fin gave her a tired nod and watched her walk away. The dining hall was slowly clearing out, voices quieting, trays clattering less often. He sat there a moment longer, letting the warmth of the food settle in his body.
Eventually, he stood up, stretched his arms with a soft groan, and shuffled out of the cafeteria. The halls were dimmer now, quieter. He passed a few students still lingering by lockers, their voices distant and muffled. The warmth from dinner was already beginning to fade, replaced by a heavy ache in his muscles and the dull throb of exhaustion in his head.
Back in his room, the door clicked shut behind him. The lights were low. He didn't bother changing—just collapsed face-first onto the bed, still in his clothes, arms limp at his sides. For the first time in weeks, he felt full. And for the first time in longer, he felt... safe.
Sleep took him before he could finish that thought.