Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Major Kaler’s boots struck the stone floor with purpose, the distinct rhythm cutting clean through the haze of the quiet dining hall.
Remy and I looked up in unison.
The major’s expression was unreadable, though his eyes flicked briefly between us before settling squarely on me.
“You’re wanted on the Ascension Grounds,” he said, tone clipped. “There’s a trial set for you. Now.”
Remy arched a brow, leaning back in his seat. “It’s a bit late for a trial, don’t you think?”
Kaler didn’t so much as blink. “We had the whole day off due to… circumstances.” His tone made it clear what he meant. “Now the schedule resumes.”
I stood, setting my drink down slowly.
The last thing I wanted to do was fight. But the last thing I’d ever do was back down.
I left Remy without a word, the quiet sound of his chair creaking behind me as I walked out.
The night air bit against my skin as I stepped onto the Ascension Grounds. Torches flickered in the wind, casting dancing shadows along the wide-open space.
Major Ledor stood at the center, arms behind his back, his red cloak snapping gently at his heels.
“The trial begins now. Hold the line of illusion. Observe it,” he said without looking at me.
I opened my mouth to ask what kind of trial, but I didn’t get the chance.
The world around me twisted.
The torches vanished. The wind changed.
The cobblestones beneath my feet softened into wild grass, cool and damp with dew.
The courtyard had become a wide-open field, swaying with tall golden reeds. Stars blinked above, too bright to be real.
I knew that this was Ledor’s power. An illusion made tangible. Magic that wrapped the world around me into something else entirely. A Reality Weaver at his best.
I turned slowly.
Across the field stood Perin.
Or what looked like Perin.
He smiled, calm and dangerous, before drawing a long blade from the scabbard at his hip.
My heart kicked in my chest.
I didn’t know if it was truly him.
But illusion or not, he intended to fight me.
I pulled my short sword free, the familiar hiss of steel meeting air grounding me as I stepped forward into the illusion. The grass whispered around my boots, too real for comfort, the cool night wind biting at my exposed skin.
Perin didn’t speak.
He simply watched me with that smug smile, blade solid in his grip, his eyes like a predator waiting for the precise moment to strike.
I circled him, muscles tight, breath even.
“Is this really what you wanted?” I whispered in the stillness. “To fight a girl, you mocked for not belonging?”
No answer.
Just a twitch of his fingers around the hilt.
“Say something, damn you.”
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
He was part of the illusion.
I began to lower my sword, just slightly—
And he lunged.
His blade sliced across my wrist before I could react.
Hot pain bloomed, sharp and immediate, as blood welled over the cut and spilled down my hand.
What are you doing?
Kaelith’s voice slammed into my mind like a whip crack.
I winced, staggering back. It’s an illusion, I hissed. It’s not real.
If the weaver is powerful enough, she growled, your mind won’t know the difference.
I clutched my bleeding wrist, the wound burning like fire. Right. I can die in the illusion.
Yes. Now fight him.
I didn’t hesitate this time.
I surged forward, steel clashing against Perin’s with a ring that echoed across the false field. He met every blow, every parry, with calculated precision.
We moved like shadows locked in a storm. His strikes faster now, more aggressive, like the illusion itself had learned me.
I panted, sweat stinging my eyes. My wrist throbbed, the blood soaking the hilt.
I’m not going to win this fight this way, I told Kaelith, spinning low and slashing upward, only to have him dodge with ease.
There was nothing but silence in response.
No reassurance.
No strategy.
Just me.
My bleeding hand.
And an illusion that fought like it wanted me dead.
My magic rose, violent, unmoored, scorching.
It wasn’t the kind of heat I could command. This wasn’t my usual spark, that controlled blaze I could wield with a breath and steady hands.
This was raw. Unanchored.
It surged up from my spine, through my ribs, into my throat, searing every nerve until I felt like I was being broiled alive from the inside out.
My knees almost buckled. My vision pulsed at the edges.
The illusion of Perin kept coming, his blade relentless, his smile cruel. He slashed again, at my side this time, and I screamed, half in pain, half in panic.
Kaelith!
Nothing.
I reached for her, clawed at the bond, but the thread that connected us was dark, cut off like someone had slammed a door and locked it from the other side.
No...
This wasn’t her silence. This was interference.
This wasn’t Kaelith’s doing, I realized, my heart thundering. She’d been blocked from me.
By this illusion. By Ledor’s power. By something twisted and cruel.
My magic kept climbing, spitting off my skin in jagged arcs of lightning and flickers of violet fire. It lashed out in every direction, searching for something to cling to.
But without Kaelith… there was no anchor.
No tether.
No control.
The pain deepened, like a furnace igniting in my blood.
My screams echoed across the false field as my body twisted, my sword falling from my hand.
Perin advanced.
I couldn’t tell if it was him anymore. If it had ever been him.
My magic was building, too fast, too much, like a dam about to burst, and I was trapped behind it.
And then my world blurred.
The field, the stars, the enemy in front of me.
It all melted into light and heat and pain.
I collapsed to my knees, my hands digging into the illusion-woven earth as my body convulsed with the burn of unchecked magic.
It hurt. Gods, it hurt.
My skin felt like it was splitting open from the inside out, every breath laced with fire, every heartbeat dragging shards of flame through my veins.
And through the haze of pain, Perin stepped forward, his image flickering slightly now, like the illusion struggled to hold. But his voice… that came through as clear as steel.
“You’re not one of us,” he said, his voice low, and final. “You never will be.”
The words sliced deeper than any blade.
Not because they were new.
But because they echoed everything I had feared since the day I first stepped into this cursed guild.
I screamed again as the magic swelled, my mind fracturing under the pressure. My memories and instincts blended, warping, and spinning out of control.
I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Kaelith, please.
But there was no answer.
The fire inside me ignited all at once.
But it wasn’t mine anymore.
This wasn’t the usual snap of dragon-bonded power. This wasn’t what Kaelith had taught me to shape and wield.
This magic, whatever it was, seemed different. Wilder. Ancient.
It surged outward with a deafening crack, light lancing from my body in violent tendrils.
Perin, or whatever imitation stood in his place, was flung back like a rag doll. His body twisted midair before crashing into the illusionary field in a spray of grass and flame.
Then silence.
A strange, crushing stillness.
And I felt myself falling.
Not backward. Not forward.
But down.
Into darkness.
I came to with a deep gasp, with my lungs burning like I’d been drowning in my own magic.
The first thing I felt was arms around me. Steady. Warm. Tae. He cradled me gently against his chest, one hand gripping my shoulder, the other keeping my head from lolling.
“You’re alright,” he whispered, like he wasn’t sure whether it was for me or for himself.
But my ears were already catching the edges of a fight nearby.
“I told you she wasn’t ready for that kind of illusion!” Zander’s voice cracked like thunder across the courtyard.
“She disobeyed a direct order,” Major Kaler snapped back. “She was told to hold the line of the illusion. Observe it. Not destroy it.”
“Observe?” Zander laughed, and there was no humor in it. “You locked her in a vision, cut her off from her dragon, and threw her against a construct of your making. That wasn’t a trial, that was a punishment.”
“She was never meant to be harmed.”
“She was screaming,” Zander growled, taking a step closer. “And you stood there like it was nothing.”
“She is a rider, not a child!”
“I will not let you use her to prove your damned point about bloodlines and discipline.”
“She’s awake,” Tae said suddenly, cutting through their shouting. “She’s awake.”
Zander turned immediately, crouching beside me. “Ashe. Tell me what happened.”
I swallowed past the ache in my throat, blinking at the early morning sun cresting over the walls.
“I was alone,” I rasped. “In the illusion. The field. Perin was there, at least I think it was him, or something meant to be him. He didn’t speak at first, but then he started talking like… like he would.”
Zander’s jaw clenched.
“My magic… I couldn’t control it. It kept building. Kaelith was gone. I called to her, but she wasn’t there. And then something else… rose up. I don’t know what it was, but it threw him back. And then I passed out.”
Major Kaler stepped forward, arms crossed. “No novice can break my weave. Especially when cut off from her dragon.”
“Are you saying she didn’t do it?” Zander snapped.
“I’m saying she shouldn’t have been able to.”
I looked between them, then reached inward for Kaelith, desperate for even a flicker of her presence.
Kaelith?
Nothing.
She was there. I could sense her. But she was silent.
Closed.
Ignoring me.
My chest tightened. I didn’t know if I had broken the illusion. I didn’t know if the power I’d touched had been mine… or something else entirely.
But one thing was clear.
Something had changed.
The last thing I remembered was the remnants of that foreign power curling around me.
Whispering.
Claiming.
Then nothing.