Noah walked alone through the quieting paths of the academy, the evening light stretching long shadows across the courtyards.
He could feel the weight of his satchel against his shoulder, but he was more preoccupied with the weight of his thoughts.
The dissection replayed in his mind like a video.
The exposed organs, the venom glands that were still dangerous even after death, the way Stark had spoken so clinically about what to harvest and what to destroy.
To most of the Gold-tier students, it had been a stomach turning lesson. To Noah, it had been something more. It had been an inspiration.
He hadn't been able to stop thinking about Osiris. Every waking moment since leaving that cell was saturated with the man's face, his voice, his laughter as he broke Noah apart and stitched him together with pain.
The shadows hissed and seethed every time the thought arose, but now there was a clear line forming in his mind.
Dissection.
