“Tell me again why they insisted on holding this outside,” Caelum said, squinting up at the sky as he adjusted one of the lantern poles along the lawn. “Stone halls I understand. Wind, grass, and variable footing? That feels like tempting fate.” “Because the council likes spectacle,” I replied, checking the perimeter wards with a slow sweep of my hand. “And because they assume nothing interesting ever happens on academy grounds.” Maribel laughed softly as she directed a group of students arranging tables along the edge of the terrace. The late afternoon sun washed the grounds in warm gold, banners stirring lazily between the old trees, the academy rising behind us in pale stone and shadow. The wards along the lawn hummed evenly—strong, layered, old. Content. Normal. Lucien stood near the boundary markers, arms crossed, gaze drifting beyond the treeline. “You’re distracted.” “I’m vigilant,” I said. “There’s a difference.” The academy grounds always feel different than the interior halls—more open, less controlled, magic spread thin across earth and sky instead of pressed into stone. Still, the wards here are among the oldest we have. They don’t flex easily. They certainly don’t— I felt it then. A ripple, sharp and wrong, like a stone dropped into water that had no business being disturbed. The ward-line along the eastern edge tightened suddenly, then strained, the hum shifting pitch in a way that made my spine straighten. I turned. Beyond the trees, movement broke through the underbrush—fast, uneven, frantic. A figure sprinting downhill toward the academy grounds, breath ragged even from this distance, magic flaring around her in uncoordinated bursts. Not spellwork. Not casting. Reaction. “Do you see that?” Caelum asked, already frowning. “Yes,” I said. Behind her, others followed—shouts carrying on the wind, the glint of tracking charms snapping against the light. Whoever they were, they weren’t academy staff, and they weren’t subtle. Someone found something they shouldn’t have. The girl stumbled, nearly fell, then kept running. Panic bled into the magic around her, pressure bending the air in sharp, erratic pulses. Trees shuddered as she passed. The wards screamed in protest as she hit the boundary line— —and broke straight through it. Not forced. Not dismantled. Overwhelmed. The ward-line shattered in a burst of light and sound, sigils flaring wildly before collapsing inward as she crossed onto the grounds, momentum carrying her forward another few steps before the magic around her snapped hard, uncontrolled, desperate. “Lock down the perimeter,” I said sharply, already moving. “Now.” Lucien barked orders. Maribel froze. Caelum swore under his breath. The academy reacted instantly, deeper wards surging to compensate, the lawn humming violently beneath my boots as I closed the distance. Whatever she was carrying wasn’t hostile, but it was loud, untrained power flaring without direction, bracing itself against a world that suddenly felt very interested in her existence. I felt it then—something tugging low in my chest as I stepped closer, the pressure easing fractionally, the wards recalibrating around us instead of fighting her alone. That made my stomach drop. That shouldn’t matter. She staggered to a stop just inside the grounds, breath uneven, magic still crackling around her in reflexive bursts. The shouts behind her cut off abruptly as the academy’s outer wards slammed shut, sealing her in and everything else out. I slowed, careful, palms open, posture deliberately nonthreatening even as my attention sharpened. “So,” I said evenly, voice carrying across the grass. “Do you want to tell me why half the eastern wards are in pieces… or should I assume someone chased you straight into my jurisdiction?”