The morning sun hung low over Sanctum School, its pale light filtered through a shroud of thick, slate-gray clouds that seemed to press down on the sprawling courtyard.
Kelvin stood at the center of the Tide's Crest, followed by Lyra and Darius, his pulse was hammering in his chest like a war drum.
Beside him, their beasts waited, restless and alert: Xerion, the End-Tyrant moved like a restless torch, Salaris, the shadow-cloaked raptor and Rhoam, the earth-shaking panther with his iron-plated paws pressed divots into the cobblestones with every subtle shift.
The courtyard was busy with the tamers that gathered, students and instructors alike and they formed a semicircle around the raised dais where Headmaster Torin stood.
His presence was commanding, his silver robes rippled faintly as he raised a hand to silence the crowd. His voice rolled out, deep and resonate.
