Graduation loomed like a shadow on the edge of the horizon. For most cadets, it meant freedom. Glory. The start of their legacy. For some, it was a welcome escape from drills and peeling potatoes. For others, like Beatrice, it felt a little bit like being left behind. Because while Levi, Farlan, and Isabel were already confirmed to be moving forward to join the Survey Corps, she was still waiting. Waiting on her uncle's decision. On medical clearance. On politics and paperwork and things that kept her caged, even when her body had long healed.

She wandered the hallway one morning with a soft determination in her steps, clutching something behind her back. Her white hair caught in the early spring breeze that filtered through the open windows. Isabel was sitting on a bench, eating what was likely her third piece of bread. Her boots were kicked off and dangling from her fingertips.

"Isabel?" Beatrice asked gently, halting just before her.

The redhead perked up. "Bea! Sit with me!" She patted the space beside her, crumbs scattering like confetti.

Beatrice sat. Then handed her the small paper tucked in her hand.

Isabel blinked. "...A list?"

"I want to plan a party," Beatrice said, voice quiet but certain. "A small send-off. For you, and Levi, and Farlan."

Isabel stared. "You… you want to throw a party?"

"I thought… maybe there could be tea. And food. Something simple." Beatrice's hands twisted in her lap. "Before you all go."

The silence lasted just long enough for her to worry she'd said something strange—then suddenly, Isabel threw her arms around her.

"Bea!"

Beatrice tensed.

"You're making me emotional, you little pale bean! Of course, we're having a party! We'll make it amazing and small and us." Isabel grinned through teary eyes. "Even if I sob the whole time because I'm leaving you behind like a traitor."

"I don't want anyone to cry," Beatrice said, alarmed.

"Well, too bad!" Isabel sniffled dramatically, pulling away and already scanning the list. "We can get berries from the mess hall, and I know Farlan still has that old tablecloth he stole from the officer's lounge."

"He what?"

"It's fine. I'll make him bring it. We'll set it up behind the east stables—it's quiet, and the sun hits there just right at dusk." Isabel looked at her with gleaming eyes. "Thank you, Beatrice. I can't believe you planned this."

Beatrice smiled faintly. "It felt right."

Later That Evening – Graduation Eve

The party wasn't grand. There were no lanterns or music. No banners or crowds. Just a single wooden table covered in an old, patched cloth, sitting beneath a tree where the wind played gently with the leaves. But everything on it had meaning. There was a basket of fresh berries—boysenberries, hand-picked by Beatrice and arranged in a spiral. A teapot that Farlan had borrowed (with permission this time), filled with mint and chamomile. A loaf of soft bread from the morning's batch. Four mismatched mugs.

And a set of tiny wood-carved figures. One for each of them. Their shapes are rough, but familiar.

Isabel had a messy ponytail. Farlan was grinning. Levi's was unmistakably frowning. And Beatrice's? A tiny cloak was carved around it like a protective shell.

"Holy shit," Farlan whispered as they approached the clearing.

Levi blinked once. Then again. Isabel was already crying.

Beatrice stood by the table, smoothing the edge of the cloth like she hadn't been nervously pacing for the last half-hour. "Hi," she greeted simply. "Welcome to the party."

Farlan walked up slowly, touched the wooden figures with reverence. "Did… did you carve these?"

Beatrice nodded.

"They're…" Farlan looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Perfect."

Isabel launched herself into a hug that nearly knocked them both over. "I don't deserve you! You tiny, brilliant, heartbreakingly kind human being!"

Levi didn't say anything. He simply walked up to the table, picked up his carved figure, and turned it over in his hand. His thumb brushed over the frown on the tiny wooden face.

Beatrice stepped beside him. "It's you," she offered softly, as if he didn't already know.

"I figured."

"I tried to make the nose right."

He shot her a sideways glance. "Tch. Should've made it smaller."

"I tried," she whispered, lips twitching.

The four of them sat beneath the tree, eating quietly as the sky slowly melted into pink and gold. They drank tea. They laughed. Farlan told a story about how Levi once got stuck in a laundry basket (he denied everything). Isabel made up a ridiculous song on the spot. And Beatrice? She just watched them. Soaking in every smile. Every shared look. Every moment. Because she didn't know how long this peace would last.

When the sun had dipped just behind the horizon, Isabel leaned her head on Beatrice's shoulder.

"Promise me you'll follow us soon," she said, voice thick.

"I will."

"Promise you won't disappear."

Beatrice smiled gently. "You'll find me. Just follow the stars."

Farlan tilted his head back to look at the sky. "You'll be up there one day. Carved in the stars. Beatrice Dalca, the quiet storm."

Levi was quiet beside her. Then, without warning, he reached into his pocket and placed his carved figure next to hers on the table. They stood side by side. And they didn't look like they'd ever be separated.