The Lesson of Fear (End)

"This is why mages die on the battlefield," he said, voice clipped, precise. "You rely too much on power. On theory. Magic is nothing without control."

His gaze swept the room, stopping on Amberine. "You're too focused on raw force. You don't adapt."

Her jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

"Elara," he continued. "You hesitate. You calculate, but you don't act fast enough."

Elara's expression didn't change, but Amberine knew the words cut deeper than she let on.

"Maris." Draven tilted his head slightly. "Instinctually, you're the best of the three. But you lack refinement."

Maris shifted awkwardly in her seat, avoiding eye contact. "I—I see. Thank you, Professor."

Amberine frowned slightly. Maris never argued back, never showed frustration. Even now, she accepted the critique with quiet grace, nodding as if she were committing every word to memory. It wasn't timidness—it was just who she was.