The hallway outside the residential pavilion did not offer a reprieve; it merely introduced a different classification of tactical friction.
The moment the willow-wood doors slid open, Commander Shay was already standing at attention, her armored silhouette framed by the silver morning light cutting through the high arches of the corridor. Her hand rested casually on the pommel of her broadsword, her sharp, unblinking gaze instantly scanning the three of us as we stepped across the threshold.
Shay was a creature of the fringe courts, a shadow leader whose primary function was gathering intelligence from the darkest corners of Ivearona—and her biology perfectly reflected her classification. Her skin didn't reflect the morning light; it absorbed it entirely, possessing a mesmerizing, dark
