"And yet…This year marks the first step toward change."
That sentence rippled like prophecy.
His hand extended slightly, as if to draw a new line in the world's design.
"You stand here not because of names. Not because of sponsors. Not because of blood."
His gaze lingered, briefly, on Lucavion.
"You stand here because you fought for it."
"You bled for it."
He turned to the other top ranks—Caeden, Elayne, Mireilla, Toven.
"And some of you," he added, "took what even nobility could not keep."
He straightened, and the eleven conceptual spells around him flared once.
"This year will be different. You may not change the world from within. But you will challenge what the world believes is unchangeable."
He lowered his hand.
"And that," he said finally, "is the truest kind of magic."
The Headmaster's voice lingered in the air, like old magic refusing to fade.
And then it softened—not with weakness, but with weight.
