The door to the private training hall shut with a low thud. Noah turned the heavy brass lock, sliding the bolt into place. A soft click echoed across the stone walls. No one would interrupt him here.
The training hall was larger than he expected. Rectangular in shape, with a high, vaulted ceiling lined with dim enchanted lamps.
The air inside was slightly cool, and his footsteps echoed faintly as he stepped across the smooth floor.
The walls bore faint scorch marks and gouges from past spells, and at the far end was a recessed viewing alcove, protected by a thick pane of enchanted glass.
It was a place for spectators to sit, protected, when someone practiced volatile or high-level spells.
Noah took a breath and walked to the center of the room.
This was it.
He reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out the B-rank spell parchment.
