Dawn made the Abyssal Training Ground look almost respectable.
Silver did not forgive weakness. It displayed weakness under better lighting.
That was its first lie.
From the outside, Gate Three resembled an old ceremonial arch beneath the eastern island of Astral Zenith. White stone. Gold inlay. Academy banners hanging in careful rows. Aether lamps burning clean blue along the stairway.
Prestige above a wound.
The gate guards checked our names without meeting our eyes. Students gathered in assigned teams across the landing, whispering under breath and pretending not to study us. Team Seven had become a rumor with legs. Worse, it had become a rumor with paperwork.
Ren's gray ribbon was visible beneath his academy-issued support cloak.
The cloak was new.
So was the target sewn into it.
