Three weeks turned out to be enough time for everyone at Tidefall to become unbearable about Orders. Older students made predictions. First-years compared guesses. Even staff occasionally said things that sounded suspiciously like opinions before correcting themselves.

A Calyx student told Jasper he seemed suited to restoration because he liked shields. A Velmor fourth-year argued that his curiosity made him obvious Velmor. Brannor students noticed the storm story. Nocten students noticed Ava's notebook and began claiming her by cultural right. Harper was predicted as Brannor once and spent the rest of breakfast walking as though she had personally been awarded the Order.

"This," Ava said, "is why teachers keep telling people not to predict."

"You are jealous because nobody has accurately predicted you yet."

"Seven people said Nocten."

"Exactly."

To escape the noise, the trio started a Year One Chronicle. It began as a single page in a blank book Soren donated from the library surplus shelf. The rule was simple: anyone in first year could add one memory, fact, joke or lesson from the year, provided it did not reveal somebody else's private information. The book filled quickly.

THE GREEN HANDBALL WINDOW INCIDENT.

DO NOT TRUST HARPER WITH TEMPERATURES BEFORE MARCH.

THE GOAT DID NOT ENTER THROUGH THE WINDOW.

ROOM FOURTEEN INVENTED BAG BED AND REGRETS NOTHING.

Ava added a more serious page titled THINGS YOU ARE ALLOWED NOT TO KNOW YET. The list included the exact nature of Jasper's Titan-sense, Deepwater's private details and which Order anybody would receive. Jasper liked that page best. He closed the Chronicle when the afternoon bell rang. For once, the bell meant no storm, no evacuation and no ancient warning.

Three weeks turned out to be long enough for everybody to become unbearable about Orders. It started at breakfast. Someone from Calyx asked Jasper whether he thought he would be sent there because he liked shields. Someone from Velmor told Ava she was "obviously Velmor," which Ava disliked because there was no evidence that anything about her was obvious. A fourth-year Brannor student watched Harper win an argument about jam portions and said, "You'll fit right in." Harper spent the rest of breakfast pleased with herself.

Jasper followed them into the courtyard, smiling. He had discovered that other students predicting his Order bothered him less than he expected. Mostly because nobody agreed. Brannor because he had stood in the storm. Velmor because he noticed things nobody else did. Calyx because he was patient with younger students. Nocten because he kept secrets. One boy had confidently announced that Jasper was "definitely West," apparently forgetting West was a residence and not an Order. Ava had corrected him for four minutes. The academy had spent the whole year telling first-years that Orders were philosophies rather than personality boxes. Students had spent the whole year ignoring that whenever gossip became available. It might have continued indefinitely if Professor Elowen had not introduced the First-Year Chronicle.

"Every first-year residence group will contribute one section. Not a list of rules copied from the handbook. Not a collection of private stories about classmates. Something useful. Something you wish someone had told you before you arrived."

The assignment looked easy until Room Fourteen sat down to choose its subject. They had too many. Harper wanted to write about "things nobody tells you because adults think they're obvious." Ava wanted "how to tell the difference between a safety rule and a tradition." Jasper suggested "what to do when something happens that you don't understand." All three sounded suspiciously autobiographical. They argued for twenty minutes.

Jasper understood. They had spent so much time near the Sea mystery that it had begun to bend memory around itself. But first year had also been burnt toast in the dining hall. Theo throwing parchment balls. Mia teaching Harper a clapping game from home. Ava discovering the library cataloguing system and becoming offended by three shelf labels. Jasper writing letters on Sunday afternoons. Rain rattling the western windows. Learning how not to set a practice cloth on fire. The first time their shield held. The first time their shelter fell down. The first time Jasper got homesick enough that he nearly cried over a jar of his mother's jam. A year was not one mystery.

They titled their section THINGS YOU ARE ALLOWED NOT TO KNOW YET. Under it they wrote: You are allowed to get lost. You are allowed to miss home. You are allowed to ask what a word means. You are allowed to be bad at a spell before you are good at it. You are allowed to change your mind about people. You are allowed to tell a teacher when something feels wrong. You are allowed to say you are scared and still be brave. You are allowed not to turn every strange thing into a dare. Harper objected to the last one.

Jasper added another. You are allowed to have a problem you cannot solve by yourself. Nobody joked about that one. When the class shared drafts two days later, Room Twelve had written a brilliant guide to laundry magic. Room Nine had made a map of the best places to sit when you wanted company and the best places to sit when you did not. Theo's group had written an entire page titled FOOD MISTAKES. Elowen read it twice.

The Chronicle became larger than the original assignment. Students added sketches. Older students contributed annotations. The infirmary added a page explaining when to stop pretending a sprain was fine. The kitchens added a guide to requesting food for allergies, homesickness and religious or family traditions without feeling awkward. Crowe added a page titled WHEN A RULE DOESN'T MAKE SENSE, ASK WHY. Harper accused her of impersonating Ava. Then Ava found the safety-history page. It sat between "Cliff Boundaries" and "Storm Signals."

Ava read it standing beside the Chronicle table in the library. The new paragraph was short. More than two decades earlier, a student with an unusual sensitivity to the Sea repeatedly tested that connection near the lower harbour. During one incident, an unexpected surge injured another student. Both recovered. Tidefall subsequently revised lower-harbour access, supervision and incident-recording procedures. The event remains part of staff safety training. No pretending it had been only weather. No pretending nobody had been hurt. Just the next class. They ran anyway.