The Academy's meditation garden was a sanctuary tucked into the eastern wing—a carefully cultivated space of ancient trees, smooth stone paths, and a silence so profound it felt like physical presence. Students rarely came here, preferring the more social common areas or the practical training grounds. Those who did seek the garden were usually dealing with affinity cultivation issues that required deep concentration away from external distractions.
Serx found Iris there, standing before a massive oak tree that had probably been alive longer than the Academy itself. She held her long katana loosely, her reddish-white hair catching the dappled sunlight filtering through leaves, her red eyes distant with the kind of exhaustion that came from pushing blood manipulation techniques too far, too often.
