The wind whispered.
Soft. Warm. Like it didn't belong to a war-torn realm but some quiet fantasy tucked into the end of the world.
The beach was unlike anything inside the Academy proper.
The sand was fine — not golden, but pale grey, kissed by silver and speckled with flecks of obsidian. It stretched for miles, curving along the crescent of a sea that shimmered like molten sapphire. The waves rolled slow and wide, crashing gently with a hush that seemed to speak a language no one remembered.
Above it all, the sky bent in shades of deep blue and violet, unmarred by clouds or chaos. No noise. No students. No dragons. No Catacombs.
Just… peace.
Sion stood on the shore, boots buried halfway in the sand, his hair trailing behind him, eyes steady on the horizon.
Tranquil.
Still.
But not soft.
There was sobriety in his stance. Like he knew this calm didn't come free — and wouldn't last.
Dara shifted lightly in his arms.
