They stood there for a while—caught in that strange rhythm the hall seemed to breathe with.
The crystals pulsed. The floor murmured. The line inched forward with no real urgency, just a kind of collective waiting that made minutes feel like they were made of glass.
Lucavion said nothing for once. He had that look again—half here, half somewhere else entirely. She couldn't tell if he was bored or thinking or pretending to be either.
Elara kept her gaze forward. She tried to count the patterns of light refracting through the high glass ceiling—anything to keep her nerves steady. It was better than letting her mind wander back to the sound of the machines or the way each instructor's voice softened right before they said unstable.
When the board on the side wall flickered, she didn't even realize she'd been watching it. A dozen names glowed in neat rows—some fading out, some appearing. The magic hummed quietly under the din of whispers.
Then her own name shimmered into view.
