The academy loomed ahead, all sharp spires and arrogant symmetry, its silhouette indifferent to their return.
The gates didn't creak. The wind didn't shift.
Cassian cleared his throat loudly.
"Do we knock? Ring a bell? Chant the headmaster's true name into the void and hope it doesn't answer back?"
'Is he actually dumb..?'
Lindarion shook his head as Luneth stared, dust still clinging to her armor, as she rolled her eyes. "It's a school, not a cursed relic."
"Disagree. The bathrooms alone scream necromancy."
Lindarion stepped past them both, the seal from Lady Valciel still tucked into his coat.
He raised a hand—not in invitation, just to silence the bickering—and pressed two fingers to the doors.
A subtle surge of mana, old and marked with authority, responded.
The doors opened without ceremony.
The halls of the main tower were too clean. No footsteps echoed. No students passed by. This was the Headmaster's office—quiet in a way that wasn't peaceful.
