The morning sun rose over Azurefall, but it brought little warmth to the Academy grounds. The massive, steam-belching Iron-Walkers of the Northern battalion were parked just outside the main archway, casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to cut the courtyard in half. The air smelled of coal smoke and ozone, a stark reminder that the sanctuary of the Academy had been breached—not by enemies, but by "allies" who felt more like conquerors.
Inside the Advanced Theory amphitheater, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Elara Zephyrwind stood at the lectern at the base of the steep lecture hall. Today, her class size had doubled. On the left, the students of Azurefall sat in their deep blue robes, fluid and anxious. On the right, occupying the benches with the heavy, imposing weight of an invading army, sat the students from the Iron-Clad Academy.
