Zara’s POV
The morning air was crisp with frostbite, winter was fast approaching. I walked slower than usual, my boots echoing against the polished stone floors of the corridor. The hall was mostly empty this early, save for a few students yawning and dragging themselves to class. My fingers were tucked into the sleeves of my sweater, rubbing against the raw skin of my knuckles from yesterday’s training.
When I turned the corner toward the student lockers near the main lecture hall, the sharp scent of paint stopped me cold.
My locker stood ajar, I blinked.
No.
My feet moved before I could think, heart pounding. I reached it, hesitating for just a second. A single breath. The metal door was bent where the latch used to sit. Someone had pried it open.
Then I saw it, the contents spille
