The arena woke with a hard light. Rows of seats filled in a slow current - second years clustering near the rail, first years craning their necks, instructors speaking low beside clipboards. The floor had been polished by nervous boots. Luminite veins ran the walls like patient rivers, waiting to be told what to do.
Kori stood with her arms folded at the sideline. Across from her, a tall man in a black instructor's jacket rested a hand on a tower shield propped beside his bench. His hair was white like a refusal to age. His eyes were the color of cool iron.
"Sixth Phalanx" someone whispered behind Raizen. "Osamu."
