Noel wore a dark cloak with the hood pulled low, obscuring his face from view. His academy uniform was nowhere to be seen—tonight, blending in was more valuable than prestige.
The air was cold against the outer walls of the academy, where he now stood alone beneath the pale light of the mana-lamps. Beyond the gates lay the capital of Valon, and he intended to reach it before the hour turned late.
Pinned to the inside of his cloak was the emblem of the student council—official, enchanted, and unmistakable.
Two guards stood at the gate, both in their twenties. One held a spear, the other a sword strapped to his hip. Judging by their posture and polished gear, they hadn't graduated from the academy long ago. Now, like many others, they'd ended up working these quiet night shifts.
One of them squinted toward Noel's hooded figure.
"You know you're not allowed to leave at this hour, kid?"
The other stepped forward, arms crossed.
