The training yard behind the western wing of Everein Academy buzzed with noise; the sound of steel clashing, voices swearing, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, young mages trying to prove they weren't hopeless cases with weapons in hand. A thin mist hung low, still clinging to the cobblestones as if reluctant to burn away beneath the pale morning sun. Leaning against one of the dark stone archways that framed the yard was Xaiden Nershatar. Arms folded across his chest, his long frame cut a...