The Archive Wing of Silvercrest Academy was never silent.
It only pretended to be.
Shelves carved from ancient stone stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, their surfaces etched with runes meant to preserve memory, truth, and history that refused to stay buried. The air carried the scent of old parchment and magic long settled into the walls. Even when no one spoke, the place hummed faintly — as if the past itself breathed here.
Aria felt it the moment she stepped inside.
Not pain. Not fear.
Unease.
She slowed unconsciously, her steps faltering as her gaze drifted along the towering shelves. Something pressed lightly at the base of her skull, a sensation she had learned to recognize — not a vision, but the warning that one could come.
Lena noticed immediately.
She stopped walking an
