The old west stair smelled like dust, cold stone, and academy negligence.
Perfect place for a conversation nobody wanted recorded.
Astral Zenith polished everything important and abandoned everything useful. The stair curved along the outer wall of Obsidian's oldest wing, ending in a sealed landing that had once connected to servant passages before some administrator decided visible inequality looked better than practical architecture.
The seal had failed years ago.
Nobody had fixed it because no noble student used these stairs.
Ren had found that fact within six hours of being asked.
Servants knew the world's true map because powerful people were too proud to learn which doors actually opened.
I arrived seven minutes early and regretted it by minute two.
My back still hurt from Nyx's blade. Shallow cut. Clean. Embarrassing. Seraphina would have opinions if she saw it. Maelis would have worse ones. Liora would probably call me an idiot with excellent posture.
