The key was heavier than it looked.
Mira kept turning it over in her palm as if it might explain itself if she stared long enough. It was old, brass worn smooth at the edges, engraved with a symbol she didn't recognize. A circle, broken by a thin vertical line through the center, like something had been split and stitched back together.
She hadn't slept.
Not really.
Every time she closed her eyes, her father's handwriting rose up behind her eyelids.
There are things about Aristella, about the families behind it, that don't belong to them anymore.
She stood by the window of her dorm room, watching early light stretch across the academy grounds. Students were already moving through the courtyard, backpacks slung over shoulders, laughter drifting lazily through the air.
Normal.
Her life had stopped being that weeks ago.
A soft knock came at her door.
"Mira."
Adrian's voice.
She opened it without hesitation.
