The morning did not feel like a morning at all.
The sky above Ironsong Academy was dim, silver-gray clouds stretched thin as though the horizon itself was holding its breath. The bells had not yet rung, and yet students were already awake, footsteps echoing through corridors and courtyards. Today was the day classes would leave for Isla Nocturna—the island that would decide who remained at Ironsong and who would be expelled forever.
Arios stood at his dorm window, quietly fastening the last buckle on his travel cloak. The fabric was reinforced, the kind of weave meant to resist mana abrasion. He checked his satchel:
standard rations
field mana capsules
medical salve
portable skill-paper recorder
two spare mana cores for emergencies
the wooden token Lucy had given him months ago, still uncracked
He hesitated on that last item, thumb brushing its surface. It had seen everything since the start of this strange life.
A soft knock.
Not rushed. Not anxious. A familiar rhythm.
