Northern found himself perched on the edge of a dilapidated rooftop overlooking the town. The cold wind tugged at his cloak as he gazed out at the horizon, the outline of the mountains shimmering against the backdrop of the rising star which bathed the entire clouds with an orange hue.
The east gate was a hive of quiet activity. A small group of people, no more than a dozen, were gathered around a series of wagons loaded with crates and barrels. Creatures that looked like something between horses and bulls snorted and pawed at the ground, their breath misting in the cold air.
Northern closed his eyes for a moment, breathing out a cloud of cold air.
'What have I done to myself...'
He was supposed to be in his dormitory by this early hour of the day, resting and preparing for the second part of the contest. More and more people were now exiting the rifts, many of whom had detrimental and life-threatening wounds.