The crowd was deafening.
Thousands of voices crashed against the walls of the Imperial Arena like a living tide, rising and falling with every exchange of power at the center of the battlefield. Elders watched from their elevated platforms with measured expressions, academy banners snapped proudly in the charged air, and the reinforced stone floor remained cracked and scorched from the violence of the ongoing finals.
Everything was exactly as it should be.
And yet.
Aether couldn't shake it.
Not a feeling he could name. Not a warning his instincts could trace. The Sovereign Soulfire still burned around him, silver-gold flames pushing steadily outward against the Endless Eclipse that darkened the edges of the battlefield — his power was real, his footing was solid, his mind was clear.
But something was wrong.
