'Why did I react to Elara like that?'
The question accompanied Lucavion away from the Western Library.
His boots moved over pale stone still carrying a little of the day's warmth, though the air above it had already sharpened with night. A colder current travelled downhill from the Academy's northern grounds, slipping through the open courtyards and between the towers before finding every convenient gap in his coat.
—Fssshhh.
Leaves turned overhead.
Somewhere farther across the grounds, a bell gave a single muted note.
—Gong...
Lucavion breathed in.
Cold air reached deep enough to clear the last stuffiness of the library from his lungs. Damp grass, stone, night-blooming flowers from one of the gardens, and the faint metallic tang of mana from the lamps all mixed beneath it.
The Academy looked different after dark.
