The moment Marisse's last words fell, a ripple went through both groups—subtle in motion, but unmistakable in focus.
Every pair of eyes shifted toward Selenne.
Even those who did not fully understand the accusation seemed to recognize its weight. A Magister was more than a professor. The title marked someone the Academy considered an authority within a field of magic, someone capable of guiding not merely students, but the direction of the discipline itself.
And Selenne had no disciples.
For students raised among magical houses where knowledge passed from master to disciple across generations, the contradiction was enough to stir quiet speculation.
Elara caught the flickers of exchanged glances, the slight tilts of heads toward one another. 'They're waiting for her to falter.'
But Selenne didn't.
She straightened, the lines of her cloak falling clean. "That one," she said, her voice carrying without strain, "is correct."
The murmurs stilled.
