The monk-like teacher's gaze pierced through Lira, steady and unwavering, as though he were reading not only her presence but her very essence. The scattered scrolls and loose papers in his pockets rustled faintly, stirred by some subtle current of energy she could not see but somehow felt.
"Everyone out," he said, his voice low, deliberate, and commanding. "Only this one stays."
Lira's heart skipped a beat, but she nodded and stepped back slightly. The others—Serelyth, standing a few paces behind in her human form—tilted her head, as if understanding, and gracefully moved to the doorway. She did not leave entirely; her presence lingered, silent and protective, like a shadow of reassurance.
