Damien stood in a long hallway within one of the academy's buildings.
The hallway was breathtakingly beautiful, the floor made up of polished white marble, so smooth it reflected the soft golden light from the ornate lamps hanging along the walls.
Elegant patterns of gold and blue lined the edges of the floor, matching the colors of the banners hanging from the high ceiling.
Each banner bore the same crest he had seen earlier—the dragon coiled around the sword—embroidered in glistening silver thread.
The air carried the faint scent of incense, and the atmosphere itself felt calm, dignified, and strangely luxurious.
There were numerous doors along each side of the hallway, each bearing a small golden plaque.
Damien stood before one such door, his gaze calm and observant.
By his side stood a tall man with short, graying hair and a serious expression.
