The Obsidian Division is always in demand for excellence, and the trio's triumphs in the Shattered Veil and Crucible of Bonds only increased the expectations.
Every lecture, every drill, was a step towards proving they belong among the elite—or a chance to falter under the school's merciless scrutiny.
After a night rest, in the morning Kelvin stood in the Obsidian Yard, Xerion, the End-Tyrant, prowled beside him, his obsidian scales were catching the light like a polished blade.
The gauntlet on Kelvin's wrist, etched with Xerion's sigil, amplifying their bond's warmth. He stretched, his muscles still feeling pain from the previous day's exertions, but his mind was sharp, disturbed by the need to stay ahead, build up himself for something that lies ahead of him and overcome all challenges.
"You are up early," Lyra said to Kelvin as she moved into the yard, Avian Salaris, her sleek beast with moonlight feathers, glided above her.
