As Liam continued along the path, several students noticed him.
That had not changed. Not completely.
Some still moved aside too quickly. Some still stared at his shadow more than his face. A few first-years whispered and then immediately pretended they had not. There were students who disliked him for being a dark mage, students who feared what he could do, students who hated what his existence represented, and students who simply wanted nothing to do with the kind of attention that gathered around him.
But after Nalim, the open hostility had reduced.
There were still glares. Still muttered comments. Still noble-born students who looked at him as if his presence lowered the value of the air. But fewer people challenged him aloud now. Fewer made theatrical displays of disgust in the middle of corridors. Those who still hated him had learned to measure the cost of showing it.
In its place, something more uneasy had formed.
Respect, perhaps.
