The Academy's medical wing had become a war zone of organized chaos. Fifty-two wounded students occupied every available bed, some unconscious, others staring at walls with the hollow-eyed look of people who'd seen things that would fuel nightmares for years. Professor Harold moved between them with methodical precision, his healing abilities stretched to their absolute limits as he triaged injuries that ranged from simple exhaustion to life-threatening corruption.
Sarah lay on a bed near the center, her temporal abilities completely dormant. The massive wound where Leo had carved away corrupted tissue was sealed but far from healed Harold's emergency intervention had saved her life, but proper recovery would take weeks. Her face was sheet-white, breathing shallow, and every few minutes her body would stutter between time streams as residual temporal energy misfired through damaged channels.
