C33 What The Crowd Remembered

Ysolde raises both hands, and the dais beneath us begins to glow with the same cold, ancient light I remember from the watchtower, except stronger now, fed by centuries of patient accumulation rather than desperate improvisation. The stone hums beneath my feet, low and resonant, and I feel every eye in the arena locked onto the spectacle unfolding above them.

"Get behind me," Jodan orders