Night fell.
Phoenix remained on the wall, keeping watch. The rest of the students had spread out across the strange administrative building, claiming rooms for themselves.
The place was quiet—eerily so. And completely dark.
While everyone else slept, the silence was broken by the sound of slow footsteps echoing through the dim corridor.
Step by step, a young man walked forward, dressed in a black robe, one hand on the wall, coughing now and then.
With his disheveled blond hair and pale face, the figure was unmistakable—Xevier Adams, the young mage, walked on with a single goal in mind.
"Damn you…"
Clutching the wall with one hand and his constricted chest with the other, the young mage looked like he was in genuine agony.
"I curse you…"
He continued muttering between gasps, until a sudden coughing fit overtook him—so violent it forced everything in his stomach out onto the floor, along with blood so pale it had lost all color.
"Damn you…"
