Elijah's exams lasted a full week.
Seven days of quiet focus, late nights, and the sound of paper rustling beneath his steady hand.
In the examination hall, the air was filled with the scent of ink and anxiety.
Pens scratched against answer sheets, chairs creaked, and the occasional cough echoed through the silence.
But amidst it all sat Elijah with his spine straight. He was calm, composed, and infuriatingly disciplined.
His handwriting was as neat as printed text, and his face remained free of the anxiety that consumed the students around him.
Even the invigilator, who had seen hundreds of students over the years, couldn't help glancing at him from time to time.
There was a kind of stillness around him, a quiet dignity that made others straighten their backs without realizing it.
