Nyx was in a good mood.
The Day of Concord was officially over, and the suffocating humidity of the spring thaw hung heavy in the midnight air. She walked alone through the dense, shadowed treeline that bordered the outer, untamed edge of the floating continent, miles away from the pristine white-gold spires of Zenith Academy. Her business out here in the dark was entirely concluded, leaving her with nothing but the quiet dampness of the melting forest and her own deeply amusing thoughts.
She smiled, her pale fingers casually brushing against the wet bark of a passing oak tree.
