Darius’s POV:
The control room pulsed with energy as the magical mirrors showed students plummeting through the sky, crashing into the trees, or fighting with tangled parachutes. My gaze swept over screen after screen until I finally found Estella.
I watched her struggle with her parachute, yanking the cord again and again until the screen changed, and my eyes darted feverishly to the others in search of her.
“That one’s chute is not deploying,” someone said. “She must be pulling it wrong.”
“Or it’s malfunctioning. They’re warned this was a possibility,” another examiner waved a dismissive hand. “All parachutes passed safety regulations. If she shifts in time, she’ll live.”
“Tough luck,” another muttered. “These things happen.”
Luck was what the weak used as an excuse when they faile
