The Academy felt different by midday.
It wasn't louder—it was quieter in the way a forest goes quiet before a predator steps into view. Conversations hushed the moment Soren entered a hall. Students peeled out of his path without realizing they were doing it. Acolytes bowed—bowed—to him, confused but instinctive.
Only Mira seemed unchanged, clinging to his sleeve like an angry, anxious burr.
"Do not look at anyone for too long," she muttered. "Do not talk to anyone. And if any House envoy approaches you, you tell them you're fasting, mute, sick, or dead—preferably all four."
Soren didn't slow.
"They're just watching."
"That's exactly what terrifies me."
They turned the corner into the North Cloister—and walked straight into three House banners hanging from the archway.
House banners that categorically did not hang there two hours ago.
Silver Hallowmere.
Green Caladwen.
Red Estrix.
The political vultures had landed.
