After the chaos of the training camp, the surviving students were brought to the academy's healing center.
The facility was expansive, its walls lined with healing crystals that emitted a soft, calming glow.
The faint hum of magic filled the air as healers worked tirelessly, tending to wounds both visible and invisible.
I sat quietly in the corner, my gaze distant and clouded, my shoulders slumped under the weight of recent events.
For me, the room felt heavy with more than just the scent of herbs and potions; it held the memories of my first battle and, more profoundly, my first kill.
I hadn't expected this. Not the way the life had drained from Malachi's eyes, nor the way his own heart had ached with the act.
My blade piercing Malachi's heart was a moment frozen in my mind, playing over and over with haunting clarity.
As much as I tried to brush it off, convincing myself that Malachi had deserved it, the weight of taking another life bore down on me.
