Trafalgar closed the heavy door of his chamber behind him, the echo of its thud fading into the quiet. The air was colder here, thinner, though he hardly noticed anymore. His thoughts were too loud.
'Euclid under my name, Mordrek buried, and tomorrow I'm flying on a wyvern to hunt a dragon with Valttair. No academy, no normal routine—everything keeps piling up. And if Caelum leaves, Mayla's alone.'
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. The meeting had clarified a lot, but it left more weight on his shoulders. Euclid was more than just a territory; it was responsibility, image, and danger bundled into one. 'Good for protection, good for leverage,' he admitted inwardly, 'but also a rope around my neck if I misstep.'
His gaze dropped to his hand. With a thought and a spark of mana, the Shadowlink Echo materialized, dark and silent, pulsing faintly as if waiting.
