The voice was like a splash of acid—vile, mocking, and dripping with a familiar malice. It echoed from the far end of the hall, cutting through the murmurs of the other disciples. William's eyes narrowed into slits as he turned his head toward the source.
Ganin.
The man was striding toward them, flanked by a small army of spirit masters who looked eager for a confrontation. He walked with the swagger of someone who believed the world was already beneath his boots.
William stole a quick glance at Berry. As he expected, her face was a mask of cold fury. The shock from Tod's encounter had instantly vanished, replaced by a volatile energy that promised a looming disaster. She wasn't just offended; she was planning to create a scene that the academy would never forget.
Ganin didn't stop there. He turned his sneer toward William, his eyes raking over William's plain robes with theatrical disgust.
