The morning sunlight hit the marble floors of Villa 1.
It was sharp. Unforgiving.
At this altitude, there was no smog from the capital to filter the rays. There was no grey mist from Oakhaven to soften the edges. The light cut through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, illuminating dust motes that danced in the sterile air.
Vane stood by the ledge.
He looked down.
Clouds drifted lazily beneath the foundation of the villa. The world below was a blur of white and grey, detached from the reality of the peak.
His body felt light.
The deep, aching fatigue that had defined his existence since the Iron Groves was gone. Headmistress Evangeline had restructured his mana channels. The process had been brutal. It had felt like being disassembled and put back together by a mechanic who didn't care about pain tolerance.
But it worked.
His core hummed. It felt like a coiled spring.
He flexed his hand. The silver mana responded instantly, eager to bite.
