The formality of acceptance was a door clicking shut. Now came the laborious, melancholic work of dismantling the life that had existed on the other side of it. My academy existence, which had begun as a prison and briefly become a battlefield, was now a set of rooms to be emptied, relationships to be politely severed, and records to be closed.
I requested an audience with Headmaster Theron as my first official act. His study, usually a haven of dusty tomes and quiet scholarship, felt funereal. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating motes of dust that danced like ghosts.
Headmaster Theron rose from his chair as I entered, his kind, aged face etched with genuine regret. "Lady Thorne. Please, sit."
"Thank you, Headmaster." I took the offered seat, my posture straight. "I have come to discuss my early departure from the Academy."
