A woman moved along the vaulted corridors of the Magic Block, her stride neither hurried nor languid—simply certain.
TAP! TAP! TAP!
The tap of her boots echoed softly against the runed marble, each step balanced with deliberate precision. Light from the crystalline lanterns brushed across her cloak, catching faint glimmers along its twilight-dyed hem. Her posture was straight, poised, and almost too composed, like someone carved into stillness rather than taught it.
Her hair fell in a controlled cascade of shadowed violet, not quite loose but not bound either, moving only slightly when she turned a corner.
Sharp lines defined her profile—calm, unreadable, the kind of face the Academy whispered about in the same breath as reverence and unease. The air around her seemed… thinner, quieter. Not by force, but by presence.
Students exiting nearby lecture rooms hushed instinctively as she passed.
"Magister Selenne," someone whispered, almost afraid to speak louder.
