The medical station was overwhelmed. Every bed filled, students sitting on floors waiting for treatment, the air thick with the smell of blood and antiseptic. I stood in the doorway, cataloging the cost of our survival.

Twelve serious injuries. Thirty minor ones. Three students still unconscious from blood loss or head trauma. And those were just the ones who'd made it back.

"You should be in a bed yourself," Celeste said, appearing at my elbow with bandages and a stern expression.

"I'm ...