Percy turned at once.
The moment the word reached him—Brother—his body reacted before his thoughts could catch up. The voice was unmistakable. Familiar in a way no other voice in the world could ever be. Yet for a brief second, his mind refused to accept what his ears had already confirmed.
Sheila.
His gaze swept across the courtyard instinctively.
And then he saw her.
She was running toward him.
Her white hair, long and bright under the morning light, flowed behind her as she crossed the stone pathway separating the dormitory lane from the departure courtyard. Her breathing was uneven from the sprint, her steps hurried, almost reckless, as though the fear of being too late had pushed her forward without any thought of composure.
For the first time that morning, Percy stopped moving entirely.
