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... f bells.

Urgent, discordant, the Academy’s emergency bell rang only for two things: invasion, or disappearance.

I shot upright, breath ragged. My clothes were damp from sweat, the Grimoire still warm in my lap. The runes under my skin pulsed faintly, and when I touched the base of my spine, I could still feel the memory of burning ink etched into flesh.

The bells rang again—three times. That meant containment breach.

I threw on my robe, strapped a side dagger to m ...

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