The sun rose over Zenith Academy. It washed the floating island in a bath of pale gold light that reflected off the white marble towers.
Vane treated the sunrise like a threat assessment.
He stood in front of the full-length mirror in Villa 3. He buttoned his shirt with steady fingers. His right arm was wrapped in a compression sleeve hidden beneath the white fabric. It throbbed with a dull rhythmic ache that synced perfectly with his heartbeat.
He checked his pockets.
He didn't pack a grappling hook or smoke bombs. That was for movies. He simply slid a single balanced dagger into the sheath concealed at the small of his back. It was a habit from the slums. In Oakhaven walking out the door unarmed was a good way to come home naked or not at all.
He checked his spatial ring. It contained his spear and a few basic healing potions.
"Good enough," Vane muttered.
