Two minutes, fifty-eight seconds.
The chamber remained silent, its walls unchanged by any confirming glow. Lia stood motionless inside, holding the slate she had chosen with growing desperation as the seconds ticked by.
The time limit expired with a soft chime.
"Selection incorrect," the witch announced with clinical detachment. "Please exit the chamber."
Lia emerged with water gathering in her eyes, but she brushed it away angrily before anyone could offer sympathy. Her usual bright enthusiasm had been replaced by frustrated disappointment that she was clearly struggling to contain.
"Return to the arena stands," the witch instructed with surprising gentleness. "Your academy journey continues, though perhaps not as originally planned."
