Philipa kept a careful distance as she followed him through the dimly lit corridors.
The academy at night felt completely different—quiet, heavy, as if the walls themselves were listening. Torches burned low, casting long shadows that stretched and twisted along the stone floors.
Draven moved like he knew every blind spot.
He didn’t rush. He didn’t hesitate either.
That alone made her nervous.
Philipa pressed herself against a pillar when he suddenly stopped. Her breath hitched. For a terrifying second, she thought he had sensed her. But Draven only glanced around briefly before changing direction, heading toward the older, less-used section of the academy.
Why here…? she wondered.
The path narrowed, the walls older and cracked, ivy creeping through broken stones. This was not a rou
