The summons came at midnight, as it always did. A northern page, silent and swift, appearing at my door with a folded parchment sealed with the Frost crest. I broke the seal with trembling fingers, expecting more bad news, more reports of the Church's advancing claim.
Instead, the note contained only three words: The tower. Now.
I went.
Sir Edric guided me through the familiar labyrinth of back passages, his face unreadable in the torchlight. The academy slept, oblivious to my passage, to the weight of whatever waited in that tower room. My heart hammered against my ribs with each step, a drumbeat of anticipation and dread.
The climb up the spiral staircase felt longer than before. Each step was a commitment, a movement toward a conversation that would change everything. I did not know what Kaelen would say, but I knew, with the certainty of the hollow core where my power had lived, that nothing would be the same after tonight.
