The bell marking the end of morning classes echoed faintly through the academy corridors as Noel made his way toward the director's office. His steps were slow, steady — not hesitant, just resigned. Noir walked beside him for once instead of in his shadow, tail flicking restlessly.
'You look like you're walking to your execution,' she muttered.
"I'm walking to Daemar," Noel whispered back. "Same thing."
When they reached the office, the polished wooden door was slightly ajar. Noel knocked once.
"Enter," Daemar's calm voice answered.
Noel pushed the door open. Daemar sat behind his desk, stacks of papers to one side, a cup of steaming tea to the other. The violet-eyed director looked up, brow lifting the moment he saw Noel's expression.
"That is not your usual face," Daemar said, setting his quill down. "So. Something's happened."
Noel stepped in, closing the door behind him. Noir hopped onto a chair, sitting upright like she was part of the meeting.
