The ceremony ended like a dying breath—hollow and unsatisfying.
I lingered in my seat as the hall emptied, watching the way students gave me a wide berth, their footsteps quickening as they passed. Their fear was a tangible thing, thick as the blood still drying on my collar.
Headmaster Evelyn remained at the podium, her fingers steepled, watching me with the patience of a spider.
"Ashen Crimson."
Her voice cracked through the empty hall like a whip. I didn't flinch.
"Headmaster." I inclined my head, just enough to mock respect.
She descended the steps, her boots silent against the marble. Up close, I could see the scars—thin, branching lines like lightning etched into her skin, pulsing faintly with stored power.
"You're here because the board voted," she said, her voice low. "Not because I approved."
I smiled. "How democratic."