That morning, Seruni School finally breathed.
It was no longer just a silent building adorned with ribbons and leftover flowers from yesterday's inauguration. Today, the structure fulfilled its true destiny: becoming a vessel for dozens of souls—from various castes, ages, and scars—gathering for a single purpose.
Sret... sret...
The sound of wheelchair wheels gliding over wooden floors that still smelled of fresh varnish broke the classroom's silence. Elara Sudrath stopped right in front of the chalkboard. Before her, forty-seven pairs of eyes watched without blinking. There was Mira, the nine-year-old who nervously clutched the hem of her shirt. Then there was Barret, a giant former infantryman with a jagged scar across his cheek, sitting stiffly in a wooden desk that felt far too small for his frame.
