When she finally stepped out into the corridor, the students moving past barely gave her a glance, their voices and footsteps weaving together into the usual soft rhythm of the academy's halls.
The air carried its familiar mix of scents—parchment, warm stone, and the faint perfume of silverleaf blossoms drifting in through the open windows from the courtyard outside.
It was the same air she had breathed countless times before, the same measured beat of life that made up her days here.
But to her, it felt different now. The change wasn't in the walls or in the light; it was in her.
Something in the way she held herself, in the steady placement of each step, carried the echo of what had been spoken in the last room.
That conversation hadn't stayed behind her—it moved with her, a weight she accepted without hesitation, a purpose she carried without complaint as she walked toward her next meeting.
She already knew the climb ahead had grown steeper for them both.
