"Alright, you guys have two hours for this."
Professor Thorne's voice carried across the lecture hall. Sharp and clear.
He stood at the front, having just finished distributing the exam papers.
"Start."
His single word hung in the air for a heartbeat.
Then—
Papers rustled. Quills lifted.
And...
Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!
The sound filled the room. Dozens of students writing in unison.
Alaric sat at the last bench of the first row. Head down, hand moving steadily across the parchment.
His quill didn't pause. Didn't hesitate. Just kept going, line after line, filling the page with neat, precise script.
He didn't look up. Just wrote.
An hour passed.
And with that, it's done.
"Phew!"
He exhaled in relief and stretched his arms overhead, lacing his fingers together and pushing upward.
He left out a groan as his spine popped.
He rolled one shoulder forward, then back. Used his opposite hand to message his shoulders.
Then he lifted his gaze and looked around the room.
