Seraphina lay on her bed, staring at the carvings on the ceiling of her chamber, their swirling patterns illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the window. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, a remnant of the evening's incense burning, but it failed to soothe her restless mind. The academy, the chaos, the fear, the secrets buried beneath official statements occupied her every thought.
The news channels had painted a heroic tale: a monstrous beast had attacked the city, and brave soldiers had defended it. General Silas, the stoic protector, had tragically fallen in the line of duty. But the truth was far more harrowing, and she couldn't shake the memories of what she'd witnessed: the shadow of death that had swept through the academy, the terror in the students' eyes, and the sheer force of destruction that even now seemed etched into her soul.
