A boy.
Not seated.
Walking.
White hair like wind-silver thread. Not soft. Not aged. Sharp—cut clean, deliberate, and somehow too still as he moved through the corridor's filtered sunlight.
His steps were slow, unhurried.
But they carried weight.
And that face—
Handsome. Angular. Chiseled like sculpture, but not cold. Not vain. A face that held the kind of balance that made the eye linger.
Even from this distance, Leonard could make out the clarity in those glacier-blue eyes, the perfectly tailored uniform, the way his coat barely shifted with his stride—as if he moved through the world without letting it touch him.
Lucas Middleton.
Leonard's recognition was immediate. Inevitable.
He didn't need to check the slate.
He didn't need to confirm the crest on his collar.
Everyone knew that face.
The heir of the Middleton Family. The so-called "Twin Star."
One of the most talented bloodlines in the modern magical world.
