Chapter 12 Sky Terrace
The rooftop stone bit into my feet, a cold anxiety churning in my gut.
Wind curled around the Sky Terrace like a serpent, sharp and hungry, snaking through the open air, scraping my bare arms, and filling my chest with a deep, suffocating dread.
I tightened the wraps around my knuckles, pulse hammering, every movement shaky with anticipation and uncertainty.
I wasn’t sure they’d protect me from what was coming, or if anything could.
Up here, above the towers of the academy, there were no walls. No safety. Just air, stone, and the expectation that if you stood in the Dragontail ring, you’d better be ready to bleed for it.
This wasn’t just a Dragontail class. Students from Emberkeep and Auroric lingered at the edges; some were assigned to assist, others were just here for the show.
A cluster of Auroric students sat cross-legged, meditating with eyes closed, as if our suffering brought them balance.
A few practiced healing spells on mock wounds.
Others flanked the sparring circles watching, quietly and curious.
Soehl stood beside me, arms tightly crossed. I noticed her wringing her fingers, the tension clear in her movements, and her lips pressed in a grim line. She looked as anxious as I felt, and it steadied me to see my own fear mirrored in her posture.
“I’m only here to practice my healing,” she whispered.
I gave her a breathless smile. “Then you’ll probably get plenty of practice. It’s only been two weeks, and I’ve already had my ass handed each and every time.”
She didn’t laugh. Just looked at me, pale and serious. “Be careful, Thea.”
I looked over the sparring rings, my heart pounding, a cold pit opening inside me. Nothing ever made me feel this exposed, this desperate. This was my least favorite class by far.
There were no spells allowed. No flame, no sun made blades, no tricks of shadow or shield. Just fists and bone. Pain and pride. It was combat you couldn’t fake your way through.
Professor Hog had made the rules painfully clear on day one of combat class.
“This is not a duel of magic. This is Dragontail martial combat. You will feel pain. You will bruise. You will not be saved unless you tap out. That is the rule. You do not tap, you risk unconsciousness or worse.”
Not a threat. A promise.
Each combat mat was threaded with an Auroric suppression veil, fine and made of invisible strands of woven magic that stripped away all power the instant you stepped inside the ring. I’d felt it the first time, how it smothered something deep within me. My flame. My edge.
Professor Hog had been blunt: there are moments in real battles, against dragons, against Wildweavers, when your magic could fail.
From exhaustion, injury, or sheer distance from Rionis’s heart.
When that happens, only your blade and your strength will keep you alive.
Those who can’t fight without magic don’t live long enough to regret it.
So here, on this rooftop of stone and sky, your only armor was your will. Your only weapon, your body. There were no second chances. No healing unless you earn it. If you went down and didn’t tap, no one could save you.
Dragontail didn’t teach survival. They taught how to end the fight.
I wasn’t afraid of pain. I trained harder than most. I lifted, ran, and outlasted half the first-years in drills. But this wasn’t just endurance. It wasn’t spell work or strategy. This was pain made personal. And I had never done it before.
Not like this.
Across the mat, Shakari caught her opponent’s leg mid-strike and twisted, graceful and ruthless in the same breath.
She dropped low, swept his other foot, and slammed him to the stone before I could blink.
The boy let out a strangled gasp as the wind was knocked out of him.
Shakari stepped back without even panting. Her braid swayed as she turned.
She was made for this. And she loved it.
There was a kind of freedom in her movement, a feral joy in the way she fought, as each strike reminded her she was alive. The professors were already talking about her, how she might be one of the fastest Dragontail placements in years.
I envied that certainty. That fire.
Soehl interrupted my thoughts: “This Draventh Moonveil is ruthless.”
To the west, I spotted one of the mats and there he was.
Lorik. Fighting Ugo. Both of them shirtless, muscles flexing under the cold terrace light.
What was with all these Dragontail males fighting without shirts all the time?
This was something I would never have witnessed in Emberkeep, and I was certainly enjoying it.
Lorik stood tall and unyielding, every movement precise and brutal. I lost myself watching them. He was winning.
Was there anything he wasn’t good at?
I hadn’t seen him in the library all week. Not a glance. Not a word.
Maybe that was for the best.
I need to stop falling for Moonveils. For the love of Solvir, what’s wrong with me? My chest twisted with shame and longing at the same time, a hopeless, humiliating ache.
And then —
“Guess you’ll be sitting out this round, Solenhart,” Professor Hog said. “Your opponent has food poisoning.”
That left me unmatched. Relief.
For a breath, I let myself believe that would be it.
Then I heard a voice. Cold. Sure.
“I’ll take her.”
Heads turned.
Rory Rey stood at the edge of the closest mat, arms crossed, black braid tight against her back. Her pale skin gleamed in the fading sun light. Her expression was unreadable. Deadly.
“She’s a second year,” I said, stepping forward. “I only get to fight first-years this first month.”
Professor Hog looked at Rory, then at me. “Yes, but this seems rather appropriate. You need to improve in your fight. Rory Rey can help.”
“I just thought—”
“Out there,” Rory interrupted. “The wildweavers and their dragons out there don’t ask how many years you’ve trained before they kill you.”
“Very funny, as if I would be punching a dragon,” I said sarcastically.
Someone else stepped forward from the shadows.
Lorik Draventh, in a blink, was right next to Rory, accompanied by Ugo.
“You will not punch a dragon, but if you don’t learn how to fight, you won’t pass your first test in the Dragontail trials. Princess,” Lorik said with an edge of challenge. “You need to get better at it. I will drag you to the mat if I have to.”
My throat tightened. For a moment, he almost made it sound like a motivational lesson, a mentor’s encouragement.
He wasn’t wrong; the first test of the trials was a bare-handed fight against a second-year under an Auroric suppression veil.
But I knew better. This wasn’t guidance.
It was a sharp, deliberate challenge meant for everyone to witness.
Rory smirked. “Unless you’re scared, Princess.”
I should have said no but I didn’t. I knew I wasn’t ready to fight a second year. Truth was, I wasn’t ready to fight anyone.
But I couldn’t afford to look fragile. Not after failing every single Dragontail assignment. I had to prove I was more than a crown, that I was strong. And I had to show them I was worth my place in this legion.
So I stepped onto the mat in front of Rory Rey. I felt my magic disappear. It was the most terrifying feeling there was.
No sun. No fire.
Just me.
Just flesh.
Rory rolled her shoulders, relaxed. She didn’t even take a stance.
“This should be fun,” Rory said, practically energized. “I’ve always wanted to see what royal blood looks like.”
“Begin.” Professor Hog shouted. Everyone around us had gathered to watch. She came at me fast. No warmup. No mercy.
Her fist landed in my ribs before I could raise my guard.
I gasped.
“Thought you’d be stronger,” she muttered, circling me.
I barely blocked her next hit. She danced back, waiting.
I swung. Missed. She caught me across the jaw with a backhand.
“You don’t belong here,” she said, kicking low and sweeping my leg out from under me. I hit the stone. Hard.
I rolled, stood, shaking.
“You think your fire-wielding makes you one of us? You are not strong enough, emotionally, physically,” she hissed.
She wasn’t wrong.
"Your family lies. Your family kills. You only seek power. You sit on a throne built on silence." She screamed, her tone full of hate.
“You don’t know anything about me.” I spat. “You all think you have me all figured out.”
Shakari shouted for me to focus, but her voice was distant, drowned by my crashing emotions. Every wall I’d built inside was rubble now. The eyes that watched felt like knives; everyone was craving my collapse.
Then, I lunged, finally landing a hit. My fist connected with her cheek. She stepped back.
Wiped her mouth.
Smiled.
And punched me straight in the nose. I dropped to my knees out of pain. The pain was white-hot. My ears rang. I was disoriented.
Still, I didn’t tap.
“You’re barely strong with your fire,” she said, standing over me. “Without magic, you are nothing.”
“I am not weak,” I whispered, blood on my lips.
“Then prove it.”
I tried to stand and run to her, but she hooked me twice, sending me to the floor again. She lifted me by the arm, threw me across the mat, and kicked me twice in the stomach. I couldn’t breathe. My head spun. My vision blurred.
I heard Soehl shout. Shakari’s voice. The twins.
“Tap!” Shakari shouted like everyone else, shoving through the crowd. “She hasn’t tapped,” Professor Hog said. “She stays in.”
“She’ll pass out! Stop the fight!” Soehl screamed in panic.
Then I saw Lorik.
He stood at the edge of the mat. Still watching. His jaw clenched, fist curled tight with restrained fury.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t blink.
He’d agreed to this.
He watched Rory, eyes glinting with calculation, then looked down at me again. That’s when it hit me.
Maybe this is how he kills me.
An accident in training.
No magic. No interference. No blood on his hands.
Just silence.