The morning chimes of Zenith Academy tolled.
The sound was different this semester. Before the winter break, the bells had fought against the roar of a thousand students, struggling to cut through the noise of gossip, panic, and ambition.
Now, the chimes ruled the air.
They rang out with a hollow, crystalline resonance that swept across the floating island without resistance. The high-altitude winds carried the sound, rattling the heavy quartz window panes of the transit corridors.
Vane walked down the central thoroughfare.
His boots struck the stone floor. Click. Click. Click.
The rhythm was steady. The hallway was a ghost town.
One hundred and fifty names had been struck from the ledgers during the break. The purge had been administrative, brutal, and silent. Staff members had packed belongings into crates. Maintenance crews had scrubbed villas clean. The lower tiers were gone.
