Three of the Noble-High cadets could not believe what they were seeing.
One punch, that was all it took to drop Callum to the ground.
Callum was on the ground now with both his hands hands pressed over his nose. Blood was running freely between his fingers and dripping onto the stone steps of the library entrance.
The sound coming out of Callum mouth was somewhere between a groan and a curse, and the sound was muffled by his own palms.
One of the three other Noble-High cadets still standing, a lean boy with a healer's mark tattooed on the inside of his wrist, rushed forward and crouched beside Callum. He pressed two fingers to Callum's temple and murmured the closing words of a sealing spell under his breath. The bleeding then slowed before it stopped.
Callum groaned again, louder this time, as the pressure from the spell settled against the bridge of his nose.
Behind them, Wyrmwood cadets were already talking.
"Good. That is exactly what they deserve."
