The sharp blast of a whistle tore through the morning air like a gunshot, slicing through conversations and stretching muscles mid-motion. Students immediately fell into a loose formation, boots scuffing the mats as they scrambled to obey. Rian joined the edge of the group, keeping her movements measured—alert but not overly eager. She’d observed enough of them now to mimic their rhythm.
Professor Thorn strode into the center of the field with the same commanding presence he had exuded moments earlier. His expression was unreadable, carved in the stone of discipline and battle-worn expectation. The air around him seemed to thrum with power, silencing any lingering noise.
“This is not the first day of school,” Thorn began, voice carrying like a thunderclap. “This is the first day of war.”
