The day of the tournament
The arena was packed.
Lucian had seen Ashford's tournament hall before—during orientation, when Alistair had walked them through the layout, explaining the rules and the history and the weight of the inter-academy championship. But seeing it empty was nothing like seeing it full. The stands rose in tiered rows, packed with students, faculty, visiting hunters, and dignitaries from the other academies. Banners hung from the rafters—Ashford's silver and blue, Thornwick's crimson and gold, Iron Vanguard's black and green, and a dozen others he didn't recognize.
The noise was a living thing, a roar that pressed against his ears and made his chest vibrate.
