"Alright!"
The heat of burning limbs slowly faded as Frost Winister clapped his hands once, the sound sharp enough to cut through the students' chatter. At once, the flames guttered out, Essence dispersing into thin smoke that coiled upward before vanishing into the morning sky.
"That is enough for today," Frost declared, his voice steady, commanding.
His cloak rippled faintly in the wind as he surveyed the courtyard one last time. "You have all taken your first steps. From here on, progress is in your hands. Train your Breaths in your own time—before meals, after lectures, in the quiet hours of night if you must. Discipline is the lifeblood of survival, and I will not accept mediocrity in this class."
His icy eyes swept the group, pausing momentarily on Draco, then Jet, then Lizbeth, as if silently marking them.
"I expect to see progress the next time we meet," Frost continued. "Show me you are worth the D-H you've been given."
