Chapter 113: Red strings
The afterglow of victory was a dangerous thing.
Not because of the pride, the swelling sense of accomplishment, or even the whispered praises echoing through the academy halls.
No, the danger came from what *followed* it.
The silence.
The waiting.
The moment when the wolves, previously content to lounge in their velvet dens, finally began to circle with sharpened teeth.
I stood in the faculty atrium with my hands behind my back as the High Magister’s personal crow delivered a crimson-sealed envelope directly into my palm.
Not a sound in the room. Not from Roderick, who sipped his tea with suspicious calm. Not from Gale, who smirked like someone had bribed a jury. Not even from the fireplace, whose embers sputtered out the moment the seal broke.
The letter was brief. Chilling.
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"Instructor Drelmont.