The sky stayed clear, the light sharp, and the golden sand burned underfoot. From the tiers of the coliseum, the crowd erupted, a single roaring body that made the stone tremble.
Around the arena, the gilded cages that had held the Practitioners cracked and sagged, collapsing grain by grain until they were nothing but dunes again, as if the tower had breathed in and reset the stage for a final judgment.
While everyone waited to learn how their worth would be measured, the sand at the exact center began to stir. At first, it swelled like a slow breath. Then it kept rising, higher and higher, building into a 50-meter hill that shed rivulets of gold.
Maruun lifted an arm. "Move to the sides. Stay close." His order carried across the Aqualeth team and the mixed-race group, and they shifted as one.
The mound burst and poured away. A shape stood beneath it. A head emerged as the sand sloughed off, then a torso, then legs and feet, until the figure stood free in the glare.
