Elowen’s POV
The southern training court of the Academy held a hushed stillness, a stark contrast to the boisterous energy that usually permeated its grounds. The majority of the students had retreated for the evening, the clatter of dinner dishes and the murmur of tired conversations echoing from the mess hall. But I had sought out this quiet solitude, requesting a private training session with Ranon, a need that resonated deep within me, a yearning that went beyond the honing of my skills.
The indigo of twilight bled across the vast expanse of the sky, the first hesitant stars beginning to prick the darkening canvas. A cool breeze whispered through the surrounding pines, carrying the faint, metallic tang of steel and the earthy fragrance of the evergreens – a scent that always felt intrinsically linked to the Academy, to the life we led, to Ranon himself. I adjusted the tight straps of my worn leather gloves, the familiar feel grounding me slightly as I waited, my heart a frantic
