Draven's cold gaze turned to Amberine, who glared back at him with defiance in her eyes. "Amberine," he said, his voice low but authoritative, "you'll go first."
Amberine's heart raced, but she quickly masked her nervousness with a scowl. She stood from her seat, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Ifrit stirred beneath her robes, sensing the tension, and she had to focus to keep the fire spirit from manifesting prematurely.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Her magic was wild, yes—but it was powerful, and she wasn't about to let Draven see her fail. Not again. She raised her hand, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she summoned her mana.
"Ready yourself," Draven said coldly, his hand already hovering near the needle, ready to fire.
