The staircase wound downward in a steady, deliberate spiral, as though carved by someone with infinite patience and no regard for the natural layout of the earth. Arios kept his hand on the stone wall as they descended, not for balance, but to understand its texture, its age, the lingering mana woven deep beneath its surface. The stone felt neither cold nor warm—just there, timeless, like a wall that had existed long before any academy had laid claim to the island.
Lucy and Liza followed him closely. No one spoke for several minutes. The silence was not heavy, but attentive, stretched thin like a taut string waiting to be plucked.
