CHAPTER NINE: THE TRIAL LOOMS (Part six)
Zephryn walked the corridor like a shadow that had finally stopped pretending to be light.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Just steady.
Bubbalor fell in beside him, silent and low.
The hum didn't come from its chest.
It came from him.
Low.
Barely audible.
But rising.
Students passed.
Some stared.
Some didn't.
But no one spoke.
Not to him.
Not anymore.
He reached the main hall of the Lyceum.
The tall windows glowed with morning,
the light warm, golden, sharp.
He stopped beneath one of them—
his reflection fractured in the glyph-forged glass.
Pulse mark dimmed.
Eyes steady.
"I wasn't supposed to make it this far," he said to no one.
Bubbalor tilted its head.
Zephryn looked at the window.
At his fractured reflection.
At the way the light didn't quite touch him.
"They made the rules to forget people like me."
A pause.
Then he smiled.
Just slightly.
"But I remember."