Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
The arena materialized around them in a rush of green and shadow.
Ancient trees towered overhead, their canopy so thick it turned midday to twilight.
The air hung heavy with moisture and the scent of moss, while somewhere in the distance, water roared.
As Cassara’s eyes adjusted, she caught glimpses of the terrain: twisted roots creating natural barriers, ravines cutting dark scars through the forest floor, and through it all, the glint of a river bisecting the arena like a liquid wall.
“Beacons are lighting,” Oliver reported, his Ilza already blending into the bark beside him. “Three on each side of the river, two along the ravines, and-” He paused, calculating. “The center point is directly over the water. Suspended platform.”
“Formation C,” Gideon ordered, but his voice carried an edge that made Cassara grit her teeth. “Liri, high patrol. Oliver, eastern ravine. Barrett—”
“We practiced Formation D for this terrain,” Cassara interrupted.
His eyes cut to her, dark and unreadable. “D leaves our right flank exposed without a proper tank.”
“C puts too much pressure on Barrett. He can’t hold two positions—”
“He can if you maintain your sector instead of overextending.”
The criticism stung, mostly because it was true. She’d been overcompensating all week, trying to fill gaps that shouldn’t exist.
“Positions,” Gideon said with finality. “Match starts in thirty seconds.”
They scattered into the forest, but the damage was done. That spark of conflict, small as it was, rippled through their coordination.
Cassara took her position among the twisted roots, Flicker materializing beside her in a shimmer of silver fur. His large eyes reflected her frustration back at her.
You’re upset, he observed.
Not now.
Being upset makes you sloppy.
She wanted to argue, but the starting horn echoed through the trees, and suddenly there was no time for anything but survival.
Their opponents, Morrison’s team again, because fate had a sense of humor, moved like they’d been born in forests. Their stone golem crashed through undergrowth like a living avalanche, while their scout’s wind hawk provided aerial intelligence Liri’s sparkfly couldn’t match in the dense canopy.
“Eastern beacon under attack,” Oliver’s voice crackled through their comm crystals. “Two incoming—no, three. They’re using the ravine for cover.”
“Barrett, shift east,” Gideon commanded. “Cassara, cover his—”
But she was already moving, Spireglass unfurling from her back in one fluid motion.
The mirrored glaive caught what little light filtered through the canopy as she intercepted Morrison’s flanker before they could exploit Barrett’s movement.
The clash of her blade against stone rang through the forest, the weapon’s reach keeping the attacker at perfect distance.
“I said cover, not engage,” Gideon’s voice was hard.
“They were going to—”
“Cassara, center!” Liri’s panicked call cut through their argument.
The warning came too late. By rushing to intercept, she’d left their middle beacon exposed. Morrison himself was already there, his ironhide boar smashing through their hasty defenses.
“Rotating,” she called, but the formation was already fractured. Barrett was pinned at the eastern ravine. Oliver couldn’t leave his position without sacrificing another beacon. Nym provided what cover it could, but against Morrison’s raw power—
“Western beacon lost,” Oliver reported, stress creeping into his usually calm voice.
They were being picked apart. Every move they made to cover one weakness opened two more. Without Verena’s manticore to anchor their center, they were playing a defensive game with half the pieces.
“Regroup at the river,” Gideon ordered, but Cassara could hear what he didn’t say—retreat. They were giving up half the arena to consolidate what little they could hold.
She fell back, Flicker darting between her feet, reflecting her growing frustration in the agitated swish of his tail.
Across the rushing water, Morrison’s team had already claimed the suspended platform.
Their tank stood like a monument to everything Auric Vow had lost, while their ranged fighters picked off any attempt to challenge the position.
“We need to take the platform,” Cassara said, breathing hard as they huddled behind a massive root system.
“With what approach?” Gideon’s control was fraying. “They have height advantage and defensive positioning.”
“If we circle through the northern ravine—”
“That leaves our remaining beacons exposed.”
“Then what do you suggest?” She asked, unable to temper her mounting frustration. “Sit here and slowly lose?”
“I suggest we follow the formation instead of improvising every—”
A blast of compressed air from the wind hawk sent them scattering, Morrison’s team pressing their advantage.
Cassara rolled aside, came up spinning, Spireglass cutting a silver arc through the air as she caught their scout across the shoulder.
The blade’s mirrored surface left confusing afterimages in the forest gloom, but it was desperate, reactive, everything they’d trained not to be.
“Southern beacon under attack,” Barrett’s strained voice reported.
“Eastern beacon lost,” Oliver added.
The scoreboard floating above the arena told the story in stark numbers. Morrison’s team controlled six of the nine points. The match was barely half over, and it was already finished.
They fought on, for pride, if nothing else.
Cassara pushed herself harder, trying to be everywhere at once.
But every spectacular individual effort only highlighted how badly they were failing as a unit.
She saved the southern beacon only to lose the western one.
Barrett held the bridge approach until sheer numbers overwhelmed him.
Liri’s moth grew to massive size in a desperate play for the platform, only to be swatted down by coordinated fire.
When the final horn sounded, they held exactly one beacon.
One, out of nine.
The arena dissolved around them, replaced by the academy’s neutral grey. Morrison’s team celebrated on their side, while Auric Vow stood in scattered positions, not even looking at each other.
“Well,” Morrison called across the space, his grin sharp. “Guess the mighty do fall. What happened to your perfect record?”
Cassara’s hands clenched around Spireglass, the weapon humming with her suppressed fury. But before she could respond, Gideon’s hand fell on her shoulder.
“Don’t,” he said quietly. Then, louder: “Good match.”
Morrison’s laugh followed them off the field.
The walk to their preparation room felt endless. Students lined the corridors, whispers trailing in their wake. She caught fragments—
“completely destroyed”
“without Verena”
“Gideon and Cassara couldn’t even…”
Inside their room, silence reigned.
“That was—” Oliver began.
“A disaster,” Barrett finished, unusual bitterness in his tone. “We looked like first-weeks out there.”
“We did our best with what we had,” Liri offered weakly.
“Our best?” Cassara whirled on her, weeks of frustration boiling over. “That wasn’t our best. That—”
“What?” Gideon snapped. “What was it, Cassara? Since you seem to have all the answers.”
They faced each other across the room, the air crackling with more than exhaustion.
"We needed better coordination," Cassara said, voice tight. "The formations weren't working—"
"Because you broke off without signaling." Gideon's control finally cracked, heat flooding his voice. "Barrett had no idea where you'd gone. Neither did I."
"I made a judgment call—"
"You made a solo decision that left the rest of us exposed!" He stepped forward, frustration breaking through his usual composure. "We can't hold a formation when you're improvising!"
"At least I was trying something!" Her voice rose to match his. "Instead of clinging to strategies that clearly aren't working anymore!"
"Stop," Barrett said quietly, but neither of them heard him.
"The strategies aren't the problem," Gideon shot back. "The problem is we can't function as a team when you're—"
"When I'm what?" Cassara demanded, heart pounding. She knew what he wasn't saying. Knew he could see she was a mess, distracted, falling apart. That everything with Auren had gutted her and she was bleeding all over their team dynamics.
"When you're not communicating," Gideon finished, jaw tight. "When you're making calls without the rest of us."
But that wasn't what he'd been about to say.
She could see it in the way his hands flexed, the careful control in his voice.
They were fighting about tactics when the real problem was standing right between them—the kiss they weren't acknowledging, the tension that made every interaction feel like walking on broken glass.
"We're falling apart because we lost our defensive anchor," she said instead, redirecting to safer ground. "The formations don't work without—"
"Verena was expelled," Gideon cut in, voice going hard and flat. "We all knew what we were losing when that happened."
"I know that," she said, quieter but no less tense.
His expression shifted—frustration giving way to something that looked almost like regret. Like he hadn't meant for it to sound like that, but couldn't take it back now.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything they weren't saying.
"Rankings post tomorrow," Gideon said at last. "We should... prepare for the drop."
One by one, they filed out. Barrett squeezed her shoulder as he passed. Liri murmured something no doubt meant to be comforting. Even Oliver paused, adjusting his glasses like he wanted to say something before thinking better of it.
Finally, only she and Gideon remained.
“I’m sorry,” she said to the floor.
“So am I.” He sounded exhausted. “This isn’t working.”
Her heart clenched. “The team?”
“Us.” He gestured between them. “Whatever this is. The kiss, the anger, the… everything. It’s affecting everyone.”