There were men and women, young and old, although the younger ones were clearly a minority, their smooth faces contrasting with the deep wrinkles of the more experienced.
Some remained motionless, eyes closed and breathing slowly, meditating before the test began. Others examined their cauldrons, their fingers running over the surface in search of any imperfection. Some spoke discreetly with the assistants, adjusting the final details of their stations.
But there was something almost all of them had in common, experience. Just by observing their hands, Kyrian could perceive years of practice.
Some had small burns on their fingers, old scars that told stories of past mistakes. Others had calluses on their palms, marks from countless hours spent holding tools.
There were old scars near their wrists, probably caused by explosions during poorly calculated refinements.
