The academy courtyard was a sea of flashing police lights. Uniformed officers moved in and out of the shattered main building, escorting wounded students to ambulances. Broken glass crunched under boots; distant sirens wailed.
Ren sat on a low stone bench beside Amanda. Her right arm was wrapped in gauze and an officer had just finished cleaning a gash across her cheek. Kyouka stood in front of them, arms crossed, the faint glow of her own power still fading from her fingertips.
Most of the academy had been cleared. Those still alive were being treated. The traitors who had started this disaster were either unconscious, shackled, or lying lifeless under white sheets.
A woman in a tattered uniform ran toward them. She stopped in front of Amanda, breathing hard, and saluted.
