They all made their way to the training arena. Nessa put on something tighter, lighter. As a Shadow Assassin, she had learnt the importance of weightlessness and movability.
Wearing clothes that dragged her down, clothes that weren't fitted to her body, would only be a liability in the art of espionage and stealth.
It was for this same reason that she had her long luscious hair that her father had been so proud of, cut. Not tied, not braided. Cut.
That way, the winds could not leave her hair behind; a trail of dark slower than her shadow. It was a lesson one of the Scholars in Elderis Stone had taught her.
Others wore mostly what they had been wearing when they entered the Tutorium. They entered without coordination, clinging to the people they were most familiar with.
In names, these were the twenty that were now fated to save the world.
