Elise flicked off the communicator, slipping it back into the pocket of her uniform. A slow sigh escaped her lips as she gathered her clipboard and turned toward the infirmary doors.
First day of the new term, and already, someone needed medical attention? That was rare. Most injuries didn't start until at least a week in—when students got too cocky in sparring matches or pushed themselves too hard during training.
She walked briskly, her heels clicking against the polished floors. Her mind was already running through the standard protocols—possible concussions, fractures, swelling. But the moment Galen had said the student's name, her brows had furrowed.
Damien Elford?
That one took her by surprise.
She had treated him before, once or twice. And from what she remembered, the boy had been… well, pathetic.
A soft scoff left her lips as she pushed open the doors to the medical wing, stepping into the familiar sterile air.
