Lexel stepped back into the arena just as the crowd broke into uproar — though for once, mercifully, it had nothing to do with him.
The magic brand on the northern tip flared white, then gold, and the light resolved into Hono, still standing, robes barely disturbed, a smirk settled comfortably on his face like he'd never once doubted the outcome. Behind him, his two teammates fell into place at his shoulders, not a scorch mark or a torn sleeve between the three of them — as if the ancient city projected above the stage had simply decided not to bother them.
A beat later, the southern tip lit up, and Roko's team pulled through.
