A chorus of fifty pairs of soft cloth slippers shuffled through the spiral corridors of the Seventh Spire at midday on Day 40.
The procession moved in reverent, disciplined silence.
Fifty young alchemists, apprentice refiners, and array-scribes filed through the arched double doors into the Inner Sanctum.
They represented the brightest, most frustrated young talents from the Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Towers.
Almost all of them carried dark purple circles beneath their bloodshot eyes, the unmistakable badge of chronic alchemical insomnia.
At the entrance, Sera Thorne stood with her arms crossed, carefully examining each disciple against her security roster.
Junior Master Chen from the Third Spire bowed nervously as he passed. Refiner Mei from the Sixth Spire clutched an ink-stained notebook against her robes like a holy relic. Scribe Zhen from the Fourth Tower rubbed his ink-stained fingers, nodding solemnly.
Alchemist Linnea marched at the head of the formation like a proud general leading an army of sleep-deprived scholars.
