Midnight settled over Galka War Academy in heavy, sorrowful silence.
A cold northern wind whistled through the stone courtyards, rustling the high pine branches outside the student dormitories.
Inside Squad 25's quiet quarters, the fireplace had burned down to glowing amber embers, casting long, dim shadows across the wooden floor.
Sagiri stood alone in the center of the common room, dressed in his dark traveler's cloak with Nokai strapped securely along his spine.
Across his jawline, neck, and collarbones, the ink-black markings on his skin were shifting with restless, burning agitation.
The dark runes squirmed beneath his flesh like molten wire, occasionally flashing with violet sparks that sizzled faintly against the fabric of his collar.
Every breath sent a dull, throbbing ache through his chest, reminding him that the fragile candle of his mortal lifeforce was flickering on its final wick.
