The sun had barely crested the treetops when the cadets of Class HA25 were called to the academy's northern assembly hall. Pale morning light filtered through the arched windows, casting soft beams across the polished stone floor and drawing long shadows behind the rows of chairs. A faint chill still clung to the early hour, curling beneath coats and boots.
Yet none of the cadets complained.
They were tired, yes—many with the sluggish movements of those who hadn't seen proper sleep in days—but they were also attentive. The week had been long. Grueling. But it was over.
And as they settled into their seats, some with flasks of caffeine-tonics in hand, others merely leaning back with the heavy relief of survival, they all waited for one voice.
And she didn't make them wait long.
