The hall was enormous—an open, circular structure carved directly into the mountainside, its rough-hewn stone smoothed and refined by ancient magic.
Tiered marble seating rose in smooth, concentric rings, accommodating thousands.
Floating rune-sconces cast a steady, warm amber glow overhead, illuminating the vast chamber, while translucent projection screens shimmered above the central platform, ready to display arcane diagrams and celestial maps.
Every seat was filled.
Thousands of cadets sat in precise rows, dressed in clean, formal blacks or deep blues, the fabric stitched with intricate silver-thread patterns that proudly denoted their faction or class.
The sheer density of bodies created a low hum of anticipation, but an underlying current of quiet respect permeated the space.
Even the air smelled different—too sharp, like ozone after a lightning strike, or the crisp tang of mana-infused metal, a scent that hinted at immense power gathered in one place.
