BLACKMOON ACADEMY — FINAL TRIAL ARENA
The arena thundered with anticipation.
Students filled the stone terraces, their roars and howls echoing across the coliseum. Faculty members sat behind enchanted shields, presiding over the Final Trial with their sharp eyes and sharper scrolls. The Blackmoon Council watched from the high box—stoic, unreadable.
And below them all, in the heart of the arena, stood Lucian Wolfe.
His armor gleamed black and silver under the pale sun, his sword strapped to his back, and his mind razor-sharp.
He didn’t hear the crowd.
He didn’t feel the weight of a hundred gazes.
He heard her.
Rayne’s voice, her heartbeat, the way she had clung to him in the night and whispered her fear. The way she had stood tall before the Council and refused to beg.
He hadn’t be
