Chancellor Lisanor's voice finished the name like a seal pressed into wax.
"Professor Draven Arcanum Drakhan."
Amberine Polime's body reacted before her mind could pretend to be brave. Her throat tightened, her palms went slick, and her ribs suddenly felt too small for the heart trying to punch its way out. The amphitheater's water mana pressed in from every direction—disciplined and heavy, like breathing in a room where someone had poured the ocean into the air and told everyone to act normal.
Ifrit ticked inside her robe with an irritated little heat-spasm.
