The halls of Dominion High stretched like veins of shadow, their walls glimmering faintly with runes etched centuries ago. The spy moved silently through them, his cloak still damp with valley rain. He kept his face hidden, as if the shadows themselves would betray him if he dared meet the light.
At last, he entered the council chamber. The blue fire burned steady in the brazier, throwing ghostly reflections across the obsidian walls. The Magisters sat in their half-circle, and above them, cloaked in darkness, the Overseer awaited.
The spy knelt, pressing his forehead to the cold stone. “I bring word from the valley.”
“Speak,” the Overseer commanded, his voice a ripple of iron and calm.
The spy lifted his gaze just enough to meet the firelight. “The boy lives. He has begun to train. Hi
