Magnus Holt’s presence was like smoke—impossible to ignore, slow to disperse, and choking if you stood too close.
He walked through the Academy’s central hall like he owned it, flanked by his Enforcer, a woman with pale gray eyes and a stare sharp enough to flay skin. His coat swung behind him like a trailing shadow, boots thudding against stone with deliberate weight.
He didn’t ask for permission to enter the Council Chamber.
He simply did.
Inside, the circle of Elders stood waiting—Thorne in the center, arms crossed, expression carved from granite. Kade stood beside him, jaw tight, shoulders coiled. Aria wasn’t present, by Thorne’s command. She waited behind a sealed wall, out of sight but close enough to hear every word.
She stood there now, hands clenched in the folds of her tunic
