RONAN
The Academy’s stone corridors were quiet.
The sun was setting, shadows stretched like claws over the marble floor. I moved with them, melting into their cover as I rounded the outer wall of the east wing.
The Hall of Records stood like a relic from another era, a squat tower tucked into the back of the Academy’s grounds, mostly ignored except during the start or end of the year. No guards. No patrols. Just a rusted latch on a side window half-hidden behind ivy. Though it was still a forbidden area.
I tested the latch. Still loose from the last time I visited under less…sanctioned circumstances.
It gave way with a soft creak.
Slipping inside, I landed soundlessly on the floor, crouched low, eyes sweeping the darkness. The scent of old parchment, dust, and ink hung in the air. Wo
