The sun had not yet risen, but the outer wall of the capital glimmered with the first hints of dawn—slivers of gold brushing against the stone as if the morning itself were trying to peel away the night.
Riven stood at the edge of the forest just beyond the city's perimeter, his cloak drawn tight and hood low over his brow. Behind him, Ember lingered in silence, her newly forged presence pressing against the edge of reality like a blade sheathed in shadow. Nyx had not yet emerged from his form, and he preferred it that way—for now.
Up ahead, near the eastern gate, a cluster of figures stood in calm formation. Students—at least in appearance.
Robes in the colors of the Academy, book satchels slung over shoulders, the occasional yawn or murmured conversation drifting on the wind. They looked like any group of upper-year students on a sanctioned research trip.
But Riven knew better.
