He understood.
He gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken truth that now hung between them.
She pulled her hand back as if she'd been burned, her composure slamming back into place with the force of a reinforced steel door.
"Go," she said, her voice suddenly stiff, formal. "We move out in five."
She turned and walked away, her back ramrod straight.
The Gauntlet was being held in the heart of the city's abandoned garment district.
The streets were cordoned off, a silent, empty no-man's-land.
But the rooftops were full.
A crowd of observers was already there, dark silhouettes against the gray, overcast sky.
Guild leaders in expensive suits.
DGC officials, their faces grim and unreadable.
And a swarm of silent, hovering news drones, their red camera lights like the eyes of a hundred hungry predators.
They were about to step onto the world stage.
And the world was waiting to see if they would fly, or fall.
