Night settled over Silvercrest Academy like a held breath, the kind of silence that felt aware—listening, waiting. Kael Ravenwood moved through the east wing’s dim hallway with steady steps, though his pulse was anything but calm.
He’d been feeling it for hours.
A pull.
A pressure in his bones.
Like something beneath the academy’s stone floors had begun to stir… and it wanted him to notice.
And then he saw it.
Another scorch mark.
But this one was unlike any of the others.
It stained the old wooden door of the Sealed Archives, a place students weren’t even allowed to walk past without permission. The burn was shaped like curved lines spiraling inward—almost like a clawed hand reaching out from the center.
Kael’s wolf lunged so suddenly that his balance wavered.
Not now. Breathe.
