Chapter Text
Monica Everett should have been asleep.
Most students at Serendia Academy had retired hours ago, their dormitory halls now silent save for the occasional groan of old floorboards. Yet, Monica slipped silently through her attic window without a sound, landing lightly in the frost-laced courtyard below.
The cold bit through her shoes at once, sharp as needles, but she ignored it, drawing her cloak tighter around her robes as if the thin fabric could trap whatever warmth remained in her trembling body.
As her boots crunched softly through the snow, a pair of golden eyes watched her from the attic window above. Nero — her spirit familiar, currently favoring the appearance of a disgruntled black cat — flicked his tail with barely concealed irritation.
He was the one who had woken her. A flicker of mana. A disturbance in the woods beyond the academy walls. And so, reluctantly, Monica had abandoned the warmth of her blankets, trading soft nightclothes for her well-worn mage robes. The fabric — patched at the elbows and frayed at the cuffs — hung heavy with frost as she crossed the courtyard.
She tugged the hood low over her head, shadowing her face; not even the moonlight was permitted to recognize her.
Not as Monica Everett.
And certainly not as the Silent Witch.