The Hall of Echoes was vast, but it wasn't meant to inspire reverence—it was built to contain power.
Hundreds of students had gathered, arranged loosely by factions and class ranks.
At the center of the floating stage stood a woman—mid-thirties, maybe, clad in the official white and gold of the Tower's command branch. Her raven hair was tied in a high braid, her stance sharper than her gaze. Not someone who smiled often.
She raised a hand, and the murmurs died instantly.
"I am Instructor Vael Argen, First Seat of the Combat Wing," she said, her voice carrying effortlessly. "And I am here to welcome you to the Throne Ascension Program."
A hush fell, heavier this time.
"The Tower doesn't waste time on pleasantries, so neither will I."
She tapped the air beside her, and a projection flared to life. It showed a vast circular arena, several suspended across platforms. Some had already been shattered. Others were stained dark.
