Aria woke with the taste of metal in her mouth.
Not blood. Not quite.
It was older than that.
She sat up in her bed, back slick with sweat, breath caught in her throat. The dormitory was silent, too silent, and the air was charged—like a storm had passed through, leaving only its ghost behind.
She turned toward the window. It was cracked open.
She hadn’t left it that way.
She rose silently, the dagger beneath her pillow already in her hand. She crept toward the window, the floorboards quiet beneath her bare feet.
Outside, the courtyard lay still under the moonlight.
But just as she reached for the window latch, her skin flared.
The runes.
Faint, glowing under her collarbone like whispers coming to life.
Her eyes scanned the shadows.
And there—across the way, half-hidden behind
