The bright sunlight from outside poured through the tall arched windows of the academy's hallway, casting golden streaks across the polished marble floor. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.... heavy but controlled.
Professor Galahad strode quickly, his black coat fluttering behind him, his arms carefully holding Dila against his chest. Her hair.... silver-white and faintly shimmering under the light.... was stained with dried blood. Her uniform was crumpled, her face pale, her lips slightly parted as she breathed faintly.
"Out of the way," Galahad said firmly, his voice calm but sharp like a blade. His eyes—usually warm—were focused and grim.
Students along the hall, from various class divisions—knights, scholars, healers—paused mid-conversation. A hush fell immediately. They moved aside, parting the hallway like water flowing around a rock. Some gasped quietly; others whispered among themselves.
"Is that.... the High Princess?"
