The first-years gathered at the transport terminals in small, tight groups—faces pale, eyes alert.
Elysia stood near the edge of the platform watching Kael tighten the straps on his gear.
Her fingers toyed with the seam of her sleeve where the tiny talisman hid—cold metal folded into a charm and wrapped in poison runes.
It fit under cloth and felt like a second heartbeat. She kept the movement casual, a wink of habit no one would notice.
Her thoughts were far from the mission's official goal.
In the quiet behind her polite smile there was a steady, ruthless thread: this mission would be the perfect place to end Kael.
Alone, without witnesses, where the ravine's mists could swallow a body and no one would know the truth.
She had rehearsed the steps in her mind, the way hands would not be seen, the way a fall could be staged as an accident, a casualty of the ravine's cursed depths.
She looked at Kael and felt a cold settle under her ribs.
