Nyx
Before I even stepped down from the bus, Irene's voice sliced through the waiting crowd like a sharpened knife.
"Is Nyx dead?"
For a single, stunned second, I genuinely wondered how her brain was wired.
Not Is everyone okay? Not Who got hurt? Not even a basic What happened out there?
Just...
Is Nyx dead?
The question echoed in my exhausted mind as I slowly climbed down from the bus, every limb heavy with bone-deep fatigue that made even the simple act of moving feel like wading through thick mud. My muscles screamed in protest, my clothes still carried the faint metallic scent of smoke and blood, and my mind kept replaying the night's horrors on an endless loop.
The moment my feet touched the solid ground outside the academy, I felt it immediately.
The stares.
Too many.
Too intense.
Too bitterly disappointed.
