The Solvayne Academy cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime noise.
Trays clattered as students moved through the food line.
Dozens of conversations overlapped, blending into a constant hum of voices.
Laughter echoed from one corner, followed by the sound of a dropped fork hitting the floor.
The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat, buttery bread, and something overly sweet.
Long wooden tables filled the room, packed with students in uniform.
Some chatted excitedly about combat drills, others groaned about the upcoming midterms.
A few just focused on shoveling food into their mouths, barely looking up between bites.
At one of the tables near the window. Kyle Valemont was fast asleep, face-down on his folded arms.
His bluish-black hair stuck out at odd angles. Like he'd rolled out of bed and never bothered to fix it.
His shoulders rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. Completely dead to the world.
In front of him. A full plate of food sat untouched.
