Chapter 33: The Uninvited Scholar
The peace of The Open Page was a palpable thing, woven into the very grain of the wooden desks. It lived in the soft scratch of charcoal on slate, the patient murmur of Elara's voice guiding a child's hand to form a letter, and the quiet, rhythmic scrape of Kaelen sharpening tools in the sun-drenched courtyard. It was a peace they had carved out with their own scarred hands, a fortress against the memory of dungeons, whispering voids, and the taste of blood-ink. For three months, it held.
It was shattered on a day that smelled of impending rain.
