The principal straightened his coat as he led Vonjo through the arched, iron-framed hallway of the Academia, the rhythmic echo of their footsteps swallowed by the soft hum of enchanted lighting that floated just below the high vaulted ceiling.
The air here was faintly perfumed with parchment, chalk dust, and the lingering sharpness of mana residue — a scent that clung to old institutions steeped in power and history.
Vonjo followed with measured strides, eyes scanning everything without urgency but with an intensity that made even the marble pillars seem to straighten under his gaze.
"This," the principal began, his voice a mixture of pride and caution, "is the Hall of Convergence."
He gestured to the vast, open atrium they stepped into — a circular space crowned by a stained-glass dome depicting a swirling battlefield of angels, demons, and men, all locked in eternal combat.
