Morning was oppressed by the thick significance of ill omen.
Light seeped from the high windows of the eastern training hall, pale and almost unearthly, but reassuring in the shadiness of the day that waited for nothing. Elira stood in the center of the hall, the sigils etched into the floor below her humming with pent-up tension.
She was not alone.
Kael trailed a few paces behind, arms crossed over his chest, his face carved from stone. Professors and Council enforcers had moved in around them, dark blue and silver closing in. Professor Veyra, whose brow was furrowed with worry, stood closest to Elira.
"This is your final test," the senior enforcer of the Council declared. "Show control—or lose your position."
No pressure, Elira cynically thought, her heart pounding against her chest.
