Academy Head Valeria observed the arena from her crystalline chamber with the kind of calm that came from witnessing seven centuries of magical evolution.
Her silver hair caught the afternoon light as she leaned forward slightly, ancient eyes sharp with interest that few living souls had ever earned.
The roar of thousands of spectators was a distant hum through her dimensional barriers.
She had seen countless tournaments, watched generations of promising students rise and fall, but today carried significance that transcended normal academic competition.
The boy below represented something that shouldn't exist.
Throughout history, the fundamental laws of magical theory had been absolute: only women could weave.
The loom itself rejected male consciousness, turning away any attempt at connection with forces that could shatter minds unprepared for the contact.
