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The village beyond the wall still smokes. Dragons circle slowly overhead. Not patrol. Maybe mourning.

I look at the board. Then the destruction. Then him.

Something inside me changes. Not anger. Past anger.

"Why Varethia?"

The Headmaster looks toward me. "What?"

I turn. "Why Varethia?"

He says nothing.

"Elarion was attacked."

"Yes."

"Tiravell."

"Yes."

"But this?" I point toward the Academy. "The Hollowborn have been coming here for centuries."

Silence. "Why?" His expression closes. No. Absolutely not. Not again. "Why do they keep coming here?"

"Eirea—"

"No." My voice breaks across the empty courtyard.

Several people look. I don't care. "People died tonight."

His face tightens. "I know."

"Do you?" My hands start shaking again. "Because every time we ask a question, you tell us it isn't relevant." No answer. "The disappearances. The old records. The Silent War. The Heart." There. His eyes change. Tiny. Enough. "What the fuck is the Heart of Varethia?" Nothing. I laugh. No humor. "Still nothing?"

"Not tonight."

I stare. "Not tonight." I repeat.

"Yes."

I look around us. Bodies covered with Academy banners. Theryn. Burned village. Collapsed tower.

Students whose lives will never look the same.

"People died tonight." Again. Because apparently he didn't understand the first time.

"I know." His voice is quieter.

"Then when?"

Silence.

The Headmaster looks toward the Academy. Not the towers. Lower. For one fraction of a second. Maybe I imagine it. Stone. Foundations. Whatever sits beneath centuries of secrets.

Then he looks at me.

"When you understand what knowing will cost you."