The crash hit me all at once, like a wave of metal and voices.
The Academy's gates had opened, and from every corridor figures burst forth—hundreds, thousands of students. Their steps hammered the black stone; their shouts filled the courtyard still saturated with Azur's roar.
They screamed, they whistled, they sang.
The dwarves chanted, pounding their fists against steel-plated chests, each blow resounding like a forge drum.
The elves, for their part, whistled clear, haughty songs, carried by a melody that sounded more like mockery than encouragement.
The dragons literally roared, their throats spewing blue or red flames to show they were there, that they dominated.
And the humans… the humans clapped. Sharp, nervous, awkward claps, as if trying to imitate the sound of war with brittle bones.
