Lorraine's POV
The night air felt heavier as I walked toward the academy gates, every step deliberate, every breath drawn deep and steady, as though I were bracing myself for the gallows. The gravel crunched beneath my boots in rhythm with the pounding of my heart. My arm, my only arm, swung weakly at my side. The moon cast a silver sheen across the path, and with each step I took, I felt as though I were crossing some invisible boundary, one that could not be retraced.
When the gates loomed into view, tall, black iron spires biting into the sky, I slowed. My pulse surged, but my face remained calm. Two Crimson Hunt warriors, their crimson-plated armor glowing faintly in the torchlight, stiffened the moment they saw me approach. One barked an order, and in an instant, shadows moved.
