Argolaith remained in the back corner, still cloaked in the stillness he had woven around himself.
The lecture moved on.
Elder Mirith's teaching style was unlike anything in the public halls. There were no repeated definitions, no diagrams. Instead, she spoke in layered concepts, expecting her students to mentally anchor abstract thoughts to structured magical theory in real time. Spatial compression. Echoed displacement. Shadow folds between dimensions.
It was advanced.
Far beyond what the academy shared with the rest of its student body.
And yet, Argolaith understood it.
Perhaps not all of it in exact terminology—but enough to follow the patterns. Enough to know when she was holding back, when she was leading them in circles to provoke discovery.
Still, after the third hour, he grew… bored.
Not disinterested.
Just amused.
They hadn't noticed him.
Not one of them.
