The Magical Concourse was the largest open space in Cordelia Magic Academy, a vaulted chamber carved entirely from pale stone that had been mined from beneath the school's foundations centuries ago.
The walls rose ninety feet high, and at the apex, scrying mirrors were embedded in the stone ceiling.
Enchanted surfaces that allowed distant observers to watch the academy's trials in real time.
The thirty highest-ranked students stood in rigid formation on the pristine white floor, their uniforms immaculate, their expressions ranging from absolute confidence to carefully concealed anxiety.
These were the elite.
The ones who would proceed to the Rank Advancement Examinations. The ones who might, if they succeeded, fundamentally alter the trajectory of their lives.
But all eyes were drawn to the viewing balconies.
The Elven Council sat prominently. But the configuration was unusual. Seven seats were occupied. Four sat conspicuously empty.
