The academy grounds felt strangely calm that morning. Word of Instructor Garron's expulsion had spread through every corridor, every cafeteria line, every class whisper. Posters were quietly taken down. Announcements were made with carefully chosen words. The administration had moved fast to close the matter, and for most students, it was already fading into rumor again.
But for a few, the silence was heavier than before.
****
[Chase's POV]
Chase Weaverake sat in the back corner of the east courtyard, his posture relaxed, legs stretched over the stone bench. A cigarette was tucked between his fingers, burning faintly against the wind. He wasn't supposed to be smoking within academy grounds, but no one said anything. Most of the instructors knew better than to cross a Weaverake.
He exhaled slowly, watching the thin line of smoke drift upward before vanishing.
