Hays

the Crown of Orig

econds ticked by in absolute silence, broken only by the

nary celestial resonance. Pure, volatile, brilliant. Pyrespire House is your predestined cradle.

shut against the artifact. "Pyrespire is not a cradle. It is an abattoir. Send me

lly as it struggled to reconcile my astronomical potential w

passed.

istair's polished smile began to fray at the edges, his manicured fingers tapping impati

his arrogance, A

"It appears the Crown of Origin is overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of Miss Hays's brilliance. I

behind him like an emperor granting an audience to a peasant. He stopped directly bef

had plunged a bla

my stomach. "I, Alistair Sterling, Dean of Pyrespire House, formally

n and offer a personal apprenticeship on the ceremonial floor was an unprecedented ho

stretched hand. I l

e heavy Crown of Origin from my head, and hand

ely. My voice was calm, clear, and carried by the ac

the consideration

ready turning toward the cro

ch syllable falling like a

e Great H

an owl's wing in the high rafters. Alistair's smile didn't just fade-it shatt

ween us, his face pale. "Do you comprehend what you are sa

ss curtsy toward Montgomery. "The school charter guarantees that while

t made the nearby air distort. His voice dropped to a dangerous, vibrating octave. "A

idation, humble unworthiness, or fear of his gr

rough his terrifying pressure, and of

Dean Sterling. I simp

fleeting glimpse of the monster beneath the mask. In the middle of the Gr

ed back to the high table, the force of his seating sen

ting. "Then... Miss Hays. Since you have rejected Pyre

e premier seats, and looked toward the da