Chapter Four #2
One of the bunnies snarls, then hurls a jet of fire that singes the tips of my hair. I jerk Craize upward in a reflex, and we rocket away from the fiery blast. The tears crawl back into the corners of my eyes; guilt is gone, replaced by pure shock.
‘I told you they weren’t as nice as they seem,’ Craize chuckles.
“What the fuck, Craize? You could’ve warned me!” I gasp, catching my breath.
‘Where would be the fun in that?’ he laughs again, and I roll my eyes.
Kareem flies close behind us, weaving through the chaos.
“They’re fire-breathing bunnies!” Nala shouts, laughing like she’s gone mad.
“And they multiply!” I add, utterly dumbfounded, gripping Craize’s mane as another pink fluff rockets past us.
Sweat beads along my brow as Craize ducks, instinct taking over. A bunny lies stunned beside us. I seize the moment and snatch a knife that isn’t mine, retreating the instant it’s in my grip—now fully aware the creature will divide and conquer me with a fiery rage. Elijah shoots me a glare.
I know without looking—I’ve stolen his knife.
I ride Craize’s dips and turns, using each movement as momentum to launch my blades in synchronised bursts. Every strike erupts in a puff of pink fluff and fire, the swarm doubling, then tripling around us like a storm of sugar-coated demons.
The air glows with pink fluff and fire, the stench of singed hair clawing at my senses.
The bunnies multiply faster than I can track, and with every duplicate, their vengeance seems to double.
Smoke burns my eyes raw, and they move so quickly now that choosing a target leaves me dizzy and disoriented.
Some of the bunnies glitch after a while and form back into one, but others multiply even more.
“Craize, can you go any higher?” I shout, fingers tangled in his wire-like locks.
He surges upward. Wind tears across my face, forcing tears from my eyes as the battlefield shrinks below us. Higher and higher he climbs until we’re no longer part of the chaos—just spectators watching madness unfold. This could go on forever with the way the targets are tripling by the second.
“New plan,” I say, breathless. “We steal knives to end the game.”
Craize dips his head and dives back toward the cotton-candy carnage. Below us, Elijah clings to Faro, ducking and weaving, throwing his last knife and missing flames by inches. I know he’s down to one blade—because I took the other. He’ll be the first to fall.
Faro angles toward a stunned bunny in the distance. I don’t even have to explain. Craize understands. He threads us through walls of fire and drifting fluff, my stomach flipping violently as the ground tilts and spins. My breakfast croissant threatens rebellion.
Now I understand why they call this an assault course.
Craize is faster. We reach the bunny a heartbeat before Faro does, but he doesn’t slow. I lean out and rip the knife free from its neck as we surge past. Instantly, the bunny splits—then splits again—its fiery offspring exploding outward.
Their rage collides with Elijah and Faro instead of us.
Elijah is out of the game.
Craize and I retreat into the clouds again, climbing high to reassess and strike from above. Trina is down to one knife now—Nala must have beaten me to the same conclusion. She’s already using her Gift, Influencing blades straight from holsters. I’ll have to watch her.
Every instinct in my body screams to use my own powers, to level the field in seconds. But I don’t. I don’t know who’s watching—and that uncertainty is more dangerous than the bunnies below.
“Next target: Trina,” I say, feeling the wind whip through my hair.
Craize dives below the field of fluff and fire like a shark in a churning current. I track Trina, waiting until her knife sinks into a bunny. Then, like a vulture, we swoop, claiming her kill for ourselves.
She shoots me a glare, but I barely notice as I holster her knife. Smoke and fire swirl around her, masking her features in a flickering, chaotic haze.
Now it’s just Nala and me left in the game. Her fingers clutch Kareem as he slices through the air with deadly speed. She watches me from a distance—I know instantly: game on.
The sky streaks with fire trails and smoke plumes from the flame-belching bunnies as they catapult through the clouds. I glance down at my holster: five gleaming knives cling to my thighs. Nala hides behind a smokescreen; I can’t see her.
A bunny streaks dangerously close. I barely flick my knife, plunging it into its fur. Retrieval should be easy—just a few inches away—but the blade slips free and arcs through the sky… landing perfectly in Nala’s palm.
I have to think fast. The bunny divides again, and Craize and I shoot upward just as the heat from the flames kisses my shoulder.
“Seriously, Nala?!” I shout, incredulous at her four knives.
She shrugs, laughing cheekily. “It’s the game.”
I can’t help but grin back. Now we both have four knives.
Nala and I race through the sky, striking targets and dodging flames. She wields her powers to her advantage, snatching three more of my knives—leaving only one clinging to my holster. I grip Craize’s mane and hold my knife tight, heart hammering.
“Give in yet?” Nala taunts, seven knives gleaming in her hands.
“Not a chance,” I scoff, even though I know winning this is now highly unlikely.
I feel Nala’s focus locked on me—patient, poised, waiting. The moment my knife leaves my hand, it will be hers.
But I hold my course, tense and silent, ducking with my lone blade ready, refusing to give her the opening she craves. For a long heartbeat, it’s a standoff among the clouds, eyes locked like hawks circling prey.
Then a bunny bursts from my side, spitting fire directly at Craize. Instinct takes over. My arm flies back, knife poised—but Nala is faster.
The blade shudders in my grip, yanked away by an invisible force, and sails perfectly into her hand as the fire fizzles just inches from Craize’s wing.
Unarmed and breathless, I glance over. Nala grins—not with malice, but pure, gleeful triumph.
The game is over.
***
I steady myself on the cable cart as we descend the valley. The smell of singed hair and smoke lingers, and now that the adrenaline has faded, every muscle aches and every movement feels heavy.
“That was some game,” I say to Nala, wiping soot from my eyes.
“I never thought I’d see fire-breathing bunnies in my life,” she laughs, patting out a small ember smouldering on her jacket.
“They looked cute, but man, were they fire-sty,” Elijah adds, chuckling as he leans back against the cart window.
“Literally, bunnies from hell,” Nala says, plucking a clump of pink fluff off her thigh. We all burst out laughing—even Trina, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything other than a scowl cross her face.
“You kicked our asses out there,” Elijah says to Nala, a glimmer of admiration in his hazel eyes as his curls bounce over his brow.
“Well and truly,” Trina adds, tugging her black socks up under her boots. “Good job.”
Nala returns a small, proud smile, basking in her victory.
The cart steadies, and we hop off one by one onto the solid ground of Sun Castle. Gods, it feels good to feel the earth beneath my feet again.
We’re only a short distance from the school, but something feels off. A crowd has gathered around the greenhouse. We quicken our pace, drawn partly by the mass of students and teachers, but mostly by curiosity and a gnawing sense of dread.
Exchanging concerned glances, we push closer. The air feels tight, brittle, sharp, like the moment just before glass shatters. Faces in the crowd are twisted in a cruel mix of panic, confusion, and grief.
A cold weight settles in my chest. As we reach the edge of the crowd, my breath catches. I see the dome. The large doors of the greenhouse stand open, revealing its once-undying garden… now failing.
Flowers that have bloomed for centuries, untouched by time or decay, are wilting before our eyes, a slow, agonising death.
Their once-vivid colours have dulled, fading a few shades from yesterday’s brilliance.
Leaves curl inward, as if ashamed to display their blemishes, recoiling from their inevitable demise.
The waterfall that runs through the dome, once endless and roaring, has shrunk to half its size.
The birds sing a new tune—a sombre, haunting melody that scratches at my eardrums. Their cries rise over the limp vines that lie on the ground like bones finally laid to rest. Restorers kneel among the dying plants, hands trembling as they attempt to coax life back into the petals, but each touch carries defeat.
The magic is fading.
The garden is dying, petal by petal.
I had always believed this garden could never die. Watching it unravel now, I realise how wrong I was.
“Oriah, are you seeing this? What the hell is going on?” I call into the silence of my mind, but she does not respond. Ever since the Gods summoned her last week, our connection has been severed.
“I thought it couldn’t die?” Nala murmurs, eyes fixed on the garden’s decay, disbelief thick in her voice.
“So did I,” I reply, the colour draining from my face.
“W-what does this mean?” Her words tremble, and I know, deep down, that something is very, very wrong.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, watching another petal drift to the ground. “But it can’t be good.”
Mr Felix stands in the courtyard, half the man he was this morning, staring at the immortal garden now painfully mortal. His usual composure has melted away; the confident man who promised he would not leave mere hours ago now looks stranded, like someone who has waded too far into deep water.
The bell chimes sharply, a warning echoing in our ears, and the students are herded toward their next class.
Yet I can’t tear my eyes from the dying garden.