The trick to moving quiet on academy roofs is simple: accept that the stone knows more than you, and step where it has expected feet before. Dorian took point, not to lecture, just to set a pace that matched the building. Cael followed with the steady weight of a man who owned his balance. I kept the kit small—Lantern, Sapper, Moth—and the leash clean. Marrow and Hollow stayed in Shade. Two threads was the limit if I wanted my hands to feel like mine at the end.
We climbed the east stair, cut through a service loft, and slid onto the eaves above the North Quarter wing. The tile was cool and a little damp. The night had that thin clarity that makes bad ideas ring.
Dorian stopped by a scupper and held out a palm like a man testing rain. "Air's wrong here," he murmured. "Not much. Enough."
