"Twenty-eight…"
Footsteps burst into motion.
Twelve men scrambled at once, boots grinding against stone as they rushed downhill. Guy clutched the flag tightly against his side, jaw set, already barking orders as they moved.
"Twenty-seven."
Ezra only watched.
His expression remained neutral, though four defeated teams still lingered nearby, staring at them with something between disbelief and fear. A few looked at Aurien as if he had lost his mind.
Maybe he had.
Maybe they both had.
"Twenty-six…"
'My heart is beating fast,' Ezra realized, pressing a hand lightly against his chest.
It had been a long time since he felt this.
Not controlled anticipation.
Not calculated readiness.
Excitement.
Real excitement.
His pulse was steady but quick. His blood felt warmer. Sharper.
He was looking forward to this.
"Twenty-five… twenty-four…"
