The taste of iron hadn't left my mouth yet. I propped myself up against a tree as Julien handed me a lukewarm mana tonic that tasted like rotten fruit and regret. I drank it anyway.
"Professor, are you sure you're okay? That thing almost carved you like a roast," Felix said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.
"That's because you're used to watching roasts instead of being one," I muttered, then winced as a flare of pain shot down my side. Whatever that ghost blade was made of, it left a mark. Maybe a curse. Maybe just ego damage.
Mira crouched nearby, scribbling into a worn notebook. "You moved like a madman, Professor. But your stance changed mid-fight. Something you learned from the pattern?"
I gave her a nod. "Not all lessons come from books. Some come from almost dying. Take notes. All of you."
Cassandra stood farther back, eyes narrowed. She hadn't said a word since the duel ended. That... worried me. She always said something. Even if it was cryptic.
