Sunlight filtered weakly through the high stained-glass windows of the private training chamber, its once-golden rays now tinged violet by the lingering mana haze clinging to the air. The scent of scorched marble and burned silk lingered like a quiet afterthought, evidence of recent magic that had flared too brightly for the stone to remain unscarred. Every flicker of light seemed caught in suspension, hesitant to settle after the flurry of movement that had consumed the room just minutes before.
Draven stood still.
