Silvercrest did not wake gently.
The first sign wasn’t an alarm or a shout — it was silence breaking where it should not have.
Aria felt it snap her awake like a cord pulled too tight.
Her eyes flew open, breath catching as the fire beneath her skin flared sharp and cold at the same time. The dormitory lay in darkness, moonlight spilling through the tall windows, dust motes hanging motionless in the air.
Too still.
Silvercrest breathed at night — wards humming, stones settling, distant patrol footsteps echoing faintly through corridors.
Now there was nothing.
Aria sat up slowly, heart pounding.
The fire sense stirred, crawling along her spine, tugging her awareness outward. Not fear exactly — direction. A pull threading east, thin and insistent, like a vein of heat beneath stone.
