The shadow of the hunting hawk slipped behind a cloud, but the tension on the mountain did not lift.
Down in the marble halls of the Disciplinary Pavilion, a heavy bronze seal slammed down onto a sheet of vermilion parchment with a sharp, echoing crack.
Senior Disciple Vayne stood before the high cedar dais, his lips curved into a triumphant sneer.
Behind Vayne stood six senior enforcers from the Morvane Pill House, each holding a leather-bound attendance roster. The paper was covered in thick black tally marks, recording twenty-four consecutive days of complete academic truancy.
“Twenty-four days, Vice-Dean,” Vayne declared, his voice ringing across the vaulted chamber. “Twenty-four days without attending a single lecture, drill, or morning assembly.”
Behind the high desk sat Vice-Dean Karst.
The vice-dean’s gray beard was trimmed into a sharp point, and his narrow eyes were as cold as polished obsidian. He had waited weeks for an official excuse to dismantle the rogue faction occupying Cold-Spring Grotto.
“Twenty-four days of willful defiance,” Karst said slowly, his fingers tapping against the iron armrest of his chair. “He makes a mockery of the White-Lotus founder’s legacy.”
