The oak doors groaned as they shut behind me, locking with a metallic snap that echoed like a verdict. The sound slid straight down my spine.
Dean Aldara’s office wasn’t warm or welcoming. It was carved authority—cold, sharp, and built to intimidate. Silver wards crawled along the walls in looping runes, glowing with a steady, predatory light that made my wolf tuck her ears back. Bookshelves towered floor-to-ceiling, filled with grimoires whose cracked leather spines looked older than half the realms. And mounted behind her desk—etched into the wall like a threat—floated the academy’s crest: a crescent moon split by four interlocking sigils representing each realm.
It pulsed faintly. Alive. Watching.
Dean Aldara sat behind her desk, still and statuesque. Her silver hair was braided so t
