The Scout's annex wasn't a building; it was a territory. A quiet, forgotten wedge of land tucked behind the main academy kitchens, bordered by the high eastern wall on one side and a dense, untamed copse of black-barked trees on the other. At its center stood the single, long, low building Eric had spied on before—Silk's domain.
The air here was different. The constant murmur of the academy—shouts from training fields, the chime of bells, the hum of crowded hallways—all of it died at the annex border, swallowed by a profound, watchful silence. The only sounds were the drip of rainwater from leaves and the distant, metallic chink of a tool from inside the building.
Eric stood at the edge of the cobbled yard, feeling like he'd stepped into a painting where the colors had been drained. The door to the annex was open, a rectangle of deeper shadow.
"You're letting the damp in," Silk's voice came from inside, as quiet as the silence itself.
