At that moment, I stepped forward.
All eyes turned toward me—genuine surprise filling them. No one expected anyone to break the silence, especially not in a room that reeked of imminent execution.
"Excuse me," I said calmly, almost insolently, "but I was dragged out of my room early this morning for something that clearly has nothing to do with me—or likely anyone in this school. Don't you think this is a bit excessive?"
The clergy did not take kindly to my words. The lead inquisitor turned his staff toward me, his expression twisting with righteous fury.
"You don't seem to understand the gravity of the situation, Varkas," he hissed. "Thousands died overnight. No one in this capital will escape the scrutiny of the Vitalis Duchy. If you're so eager to return to whatever you were doing, stop speaking—or I'll have you taken in as a suspected accomplice."
They were taking this seriously.
I wondered just how high yesterday's "pruning" had reached to push both the Clergy and Royalty to the brink. I would soon learn the truth:
It hadn't discriminated.
Princes—and even the direct heir of House Vitalis—had died that night.
Finally, I glanced toward the top of the stairs.
It seemed the help I needed had arrived.
Elena Thorne appeared, composed once more, her presence alone enough to make the Astaford guards lower their spears slightly.
"The Imperial Academy falls under the authority of my master and its faculty," Elena declared, her voice cutting through the hall. "The Clergy has no right to subject my students to this treatment—nor to interrogate them without evidence."
She stopped at the base of the stairs, arms crossed.
Her gray eyes met mine for a fraction of a second—a fleeting but lethal understanding.
"If the Vitalis Duchy wishes to hunt shadows," she continued coldly, "they can start in their own cathedrals. Remove your staves from my students. Now."
Silence followed.
Slowly, reluctantly, the staves lowered.
But not everyone stepped back.
Lisbeth—the "princess" of the Vitalis and one of the Academy's three queens—stepped forward. Her usual gentle expression had cracked, revealing something cold beneath.
"Professor Thorne, with all due respect," she said softly, though her voice carried centuries of doctrine, "hundreds have died—including my own brother. Speaking of 'etiquette' and 'jurisdiction' when evil walks freely in our capital is… suspicious."
Her gaze turned toward me.
"Especially when some students seem far too comfortable amid this chaos. Isn't that right, Cassian Varkas? Or will you claim your 'luck' protected you from the invisible death as well?"
The hall held its breath.
Elara paled even further.
"Oh, I was merely making a comment," I replied with a shrug. "Though I don't see why anyone would want to kill me. But since your house suffered so many losses… perhaps you could clarify what really caused them?"
The implication hung in the air like a blade.
Lisbeth's staff began to glow intensely—
"Enough."
The word wasn't shouted.
It was commanded.
And it resonated through the very structure of the building.
A new figure descended into the hall, as if gravity itself had become optional.
Sylvia Sterling.
Director of the Imperial Academy. Predecessor of the Sterling Duchy. Elena's master. One of the few mages in the entire Demor Empire to reach the Ninth Circle.
A living legend.
Her mere presence extinguished Lisbeth's light like a candle in a storm.
"Lisbeth Vitalis, lower your staff," Sylvia ordered calmly, landing with feline grace. "The tragedy has frayed everyone's nerves—but I will not allow my Academy to become an interrogation chamber."
Then she turned.
Her eyes—like eternal embers—locked onto me.
"And you, Cassian Varkas…" she murmured, a faint, intrigued smile forming. "You seem quite comfortable in the middle of this fire. Elena has told me much about your 'luck.' And I've heard how you handled my grandson."
Her tone made it clear—Julius's humiliation mattered far less than the enigma I represented.
"Youth tends to be passionate, Director," I replied calmly. "Your grandson simply needed a lesson in gravity and overconfidence."
Sylvia let out a soft laugh, heat rippling in the air.
"Gravity and confidence… curious terms for a 'useless' boy," she said, stepping closer, the scent of ozone and ash surrounding her. "The Vitalis demand a head. The Emperor wants a culprit."
She turned briefly toward the silent crowd—then back to me.
"Elena, take him to my office. I want to see this 'good fortune' of House Varkas up close… before the Inquisition decides his eyes would look better reflected in fire."
Lisbeth clenched her teeth.
But no one—no one—dared defy a direct order from the Academy's Eternal Flame.