The air inside the tower was thick — not just with dust, but with something heavier. The smell of old parchment and burnt sage clung to the stones.
Yegr pressed himself against the wall just inside the doorway, barely breathing.
A lantern burned low in the center of the room, casting long, jagged shadows against the curved stone walls. Around it sat nine figures, all masked in the same style he'd seen before — plain black, with no mouth opening and only thin eye slits.
Serra was among them, seated to the left of the tallest figure.
The tall one spoke first. His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of command that made the others lean in instinctively.
"The attack last night was sloppy," the man said. "Three injured, none dead. The Academy will tighten security. We must move the timetable forward."
One of the masked figures shifted. "Forward? The summoning isn't ready—"
"It will be," the tall man interrupted. "Our allies in the eastern halls have already secured the catalyst. The final vessel arrives within the month."
Yegr's pulse quickened. Vessel. That word had a very specific meaning in war magic — a living host for a bound spirit or entity.
Another voice spoke — female, sharp. "And what of the boy? The one who intervened?"
Serra leaned forward slightly. "He's skilled. More than he should be for his age. I've been watching him."
Yegr's stomach knotted.
The tall man considered. "Watch him more closely. If he is a threat, deal with him before the Festival of Embers."
Festival of Embers. Yegr remembered it from the old timeline — the night the Academy was attacked from within. He'd barely survived it the first time.
The meeting continued, with hushed discussion of smuggling routes, coded messages, and something they called the Second Awakening.
Yegr memorized every word. Every voice.
Then, the tall man gave a final order: "The next test comes in three days. Let it be… decisive."
Chairs scraped against stone. The figures began to rise.
Yegr slipped back into the night before they saw him, his mind burning with questions — and one cold certainty.
This wasn't just a cell of the Shadowed Path.
This was its beating heart.