A wooden key turned inside the heavy brass lock of the courtyard gate, snapping the internal wards with a clean chime that echoed across the western ridge.
Caleb Conway pushed the ironbound cedar doors inward, stepping across the threshold onto the flagstones of Cloud Mist Peak. The isolated summit sat high above the common dormitories, wrapped in drifting sheets of white mountain vapor that parted before his boots. In the center of the private terrace stood a two-story wooden pavilion framed by dark cedar timbers, surrounded by a modest garden of blue mountain grass and stone lanterns that had long since gathered a quiet layer of fallen pine needles.
Near the southern corner of the courtyard, a spiritual spring bubbled up from a natural basin of pale granite. The water was clear and col
