The sky was pale with the first breath of dawn. Dew clung to the grass, and the air was cold enough to sting lungs with every breath. One by one, the remaining eighty-five contestants gathered at the wide ground, faces tense, some brimming with confidence, others already shadowed by doubt.
At the far end of the field, Ira stood upon a raised podium. Her figure was tall and unbending, her dark cloak heavy with morning mist. When her voice rang out, it cut clean through the restless murmurs.
“Today,” she declared, her eyes scanning the sea of faces, “marks the second trial of the tournament.”
The noise died at once and every ear leaned closer.
“First, I congratulate you. To have come this far means you have endured where others have failed. But hear me well…” her tone sharpened, “this tr
