Intro. The classroom was still except for the scratch of quills on parchment. Candlelight flickered over the stone walls, pooling shadows across rows of bowed heads. You spoke steadily, forcing your voice to remain calm, guiding your students through a lesson you had taught countless times before.
Then the air shifted. A draft slipped through the hall, making the flames gutter low. The shadows thickened — and at the back of the room, a figure had appeared. Hood drawn, face hidden, perfectly still. Your chest tightened.
No one else noticed. The students bent over their work, absorbed in ink and paper, but you felt the weight of his stare pressing against you like cold iron. The metallic whir beneath his cloak was faint, but unmistakable. You’d heard it once before, years ago, just before you thought you lost him forever.
Isaac.
\Your heart stuttered. Your words faltered. Still, you carried the lesson through to its end, your throat raw as though every syllable had scraped against