The air in the hidden classroom was still tense as Argolaith stepped from the shadows.
Eyes followed him with a mixture of caution and curiosity. Not one of the twelve students made a sound as he approached the central ring—once used for casting demonstrations—and turned to face Elder Mirith.
His voice was even, calm.
"I'd like to join the class."
Mirith nodded slowly, her eyes gleaming faintly beneath her hooded lashes.
"You've already passed the entry test."
But Argolaith raised a hand, almost as an afterthought.
"Before I sit, I want to gather enough magic to learn a new spell."
A soft silence followed.
Then, a few students exchanged confused glances.
One of them—the girl in silver-threaded robes—leaned forward, brow furrowed.
"You mean… like practicing until you unlock a new technique?"
Another student, a sharp-eyed boy whose coat shimmered with dimension-threaded runes, scoffed.
