Amberine couldn't stop the faint smile that crept across her face as she flipped through the pages of her magic notebook. The delicate glow of her enchanted quill had captured every word of Draven's explanation, and the pages shimmered faintly with the magical energy infused in the ink. She could almost feel the weight of the knowledge that lay before her—a pathway to a deeper understanding of magic, of barriers, and of control.
But as the rest of the class began to pack up their belongings, the excitement that had flared in her chest was quickly overshadowed by a familiar weight: the burning memory of Draven's cold admission that he had killed her father. The knowledge hung over her like a shadow, darkening every moment of triumph. She stood, clutching her notebook tightly, determined not to let the anger consume her.
"You're smiling," Maris whispered beside her, her voice light and teasing. "I haven't seen you smile like that in a while. Was the lecture that good?"
