We begin to gather in a I clearing full of faculty and torches.
As Archer's gaze lands on me, I force myself upright, fists jammed against my sides to keep them from shaking. Other students stagger in, hunched against the cold: Ulric, bristling; Marcus, face pinched; Kincaid, blood on his knuckles somehow.
Healer Lyra wades in like a general, torch raised. Her coat flares in the wind and the firelight throws her features into harsh relief.
“Line up,” she barks, tone all command. There’s no compassion tonight. “Now. We’re shifting protocol.”
Jax and I drop into the line. My whole body is vibrating with shame, fear, and the flush of adrenaline still hissing under my skin. Jax stands too close behind me. I feel his gaze at the back of my head, burning holes, but I refuse to turn.
Lyra wa
