There was no promise of glory, no shield from hardship, no guarantee of success.
Only the truth—that from this point forward, every student here was now part of something larger than themselves, something deeper than individual talent or good fortune.
And being part of it didn't mean safety or reward—it meant being seen, measured, and shaped, sometimes harshly, by forces they didn't yet understand.
Above the stage, the badge faded—its glow retreating into the projection sphere as if its presence had merely been a reminder, not a reward.
The lights across the Hall of Presence returned not in a dramatic flood, but gradually, with the softness of early dawn.
The kind of light that didn't command attention but invited breath.
Then her voice returned. Soft. Measured. The kind of tone that didn't rise, but still landed.
"Legacies can guide us," she said. "And power can defend us."
Her voice dropped slightly, just enough to make the next words feel heavier.
