[Principal Camila's Office —]
The breeze in Principal Camila's office was still and heavy with the scent of polished oak and parchment. Sunlight streamed in through the tall glass windows, slicing the room into bars of soft gold that glimmered across the mahogany desk. Books and ancient scrolls were neatly arranged in shelves that lined the walls, each spine whispering of centuries-old wisdom. The faint hum of distant voices from the academy's courtyard gave the space an almost sacred calm— the kind that demanded silence.
Then came a knock on the door.
"BAM. BAM"
Camila lifted her eyes from the scroll she was reading. "Come in," she said, her voice was steady and composed as always.
The door swung open, and Ball stepped in, closing it behind her with a trembling hand. Her wings were folded tight against her back, a sign of unease. She wasn't dressed in her usual confident posture— instead, her shoulders drooped slightly, and her eyes carried something desperate.
