The chime faded.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Like, really heavy.
It was different from the usual quiet you get in the academy.
This was the silence of a hundred psychos who had just heard the dinner bell.
We all moved at once, a river of black uniforms pouring out from every corner of the Corps, all heading for the main Forging Ground.
The huge, circular room was already packed.
The air was so thick with tension you could probably taste it.
No one was acting tough anymore.
No one was sneering.
All that lazy, 'I'm better than you' crap from the training grounds was gone. Poof.
Every single eye was glued to the raised platform in the middle of the room, where some guy was just standing there, waiting.
He was just a spooky silhouette against the dim light of the big Anvil crystal.
A tall, skinny shape wrapped in a dark, high-collared robe that looked like it ate light for breakfast.
You couldn't see his face.
You couldn't see his hands.
