Night had fallen heavy over Ravenclaw. The moon hung like a silver coin in the dark sky, its glow soft against the rooftops, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The trial's verdict still echoed in Evelyn's mind — a verdict meant to cage her, to remind her of her place.
But cages had never held her for long.
She stood alone on the balcony outside her chamber, the cold wind brushing her face. Below, the campfires of the warriors flickered faintly, their murmurs rising like a low hum. She could feel their unrest. They had seen her strength. They had felt her power. And they were waiting — waiting for someone to lead.
Behind her, the door creaked open. George stepped into the moonlight, his eyes heavy with thought. "You haven't rested," he said.
"Rest?" Evelyn's lips curved faintly. "There's no rest for someone already sentenced to silence."
He moved closer. "Defying the council so soon after the trial could fracture what's left of unity."
