Tomorrow marked the day of departure for Bloodsoaked Highlands. A heavy tension blanketed the entirety of Falcon Fortress—so thick it was nearly suffocating. Everyone was on edge, consumed by a restless anxiety.
Even old Gordon, who was usually the epitome of composure, had lost his temper twice that morning, shouting two hapless servants into tears.
Only Rus remained unshaken, holding to his usual rhythm. After waking, he washed and dressed with Petty's help, ate breakfast without hurry, and made his way straight to the dungeon to continue his magic training.
"Fi-er ru-huo…"
The chant echoed through the dim stone chamber, but before he could finish the incantation, a voice rang out from the corridor.
"Rus. I need to talk to you."
It was Elaina. Her tone was calm, but stiff—clearly laced with anger.
Annoyance stirred in Rus's chest as well. He turned toward the door and pulled it open with visible impatience.
