CHAPTER EIGHT #2
Then her opponent stepped forward. Rhea moved with effortless authority, the sun catching the deep, rich brown of her skin.
Long black braids swayed behind her, emerald eyes fixed on the ring like she already owned the space within it.
Her forest-green leathers fit like armor grown from the earth itself—House Terra.
"Alright, everyone," Professor Aldara called, stepping toward the barrier. "Meet Rhea and Vesper. And Darcy and Void. Ladies, you know the rules—duel until one pair is rendered unfit to continue. Five… four… three… two… one—go!"
Darcy struck first. A blade of shadow snapped from her hand, racing toward Rhea.
Vesper reacted instantly; the viper launched in a blur of green, its body uncoiling with terrifying speed, fangs flashing.
Void exploded from Darcy's collar like a shadow-detonation.
Bat and serpent collided midair—wings slamming against scales as they twisted and crashed together, tumbling in a vicious knot of claws and venom.
Rhea didn't hesitate.
She drove her palm into the ground, and a wall of thorns erupted upward, snapping closed like a jaw.
Darcy cursed as the barbs tore across her forearm, forcing her back.
Blood dotted the dirt. She retaliated instantly—a spiral of darkness lashing toward Rhea's feet, shadows biting into stone and root alike.
Back and forth they went. Green and black magic clashed like jungle and storm—roots ripping through the arena floor, shadows cleaving them apart, venomous strikes met with razor-dark counters. I'd never seen Terra magic wielded with such lethal precision. Rhea wasn't wild; she was a surgeon.
Darcy's eyes hardened. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she summoned a dense cloud of shadow that swallowed half the ring whole. The stands erupted in gasps.
A shrill hiss cut through the darkness. Void burst from the fog, fangs sunk deep into Vesper's neck.
The viper screamed—a high, vibrating shriek—and whipped its tail around Void, crushing the bat midair. Darcy froze. The shadows thinned.
And Rhea struck.
Roots blasted from the ground like spears, wrapping around Darcy's legs and yanking her down hard.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.
The roots coiled tighter, pinning her flat against the dirt, locking her in place.
Void dropped beside her, gasping. Vesper fell back, wounded but upright.
"Holy shit," Ember breathed beside me.
Professor Aldara stepped forward, his voice carrying effortlessly over the roaring crowd. "Over. Winner—Rhea Marcellis."
The arena exploded into cheers. Vesper uncoiled from Void's crumpled body.
The bat wheezed, dazed but very much alive. Rhea crossed the arena without so much as a smirk—no gloating, no theatrics. She extended a hand to her opponent.
Darcy took it, still breathing hard, a grin tugging at her mouth despite the bruises already blooming along her arm.
Rhea gave a slight bow, palms pressed together in a gesture of respect. And then—shockingly—Vesper leaned forward and gently tapped Void with the tip of his tail before slithering back to Rhea's side.
A collective "awww?" rippled through the crowd.
"Ooh, I know who she is," Maddy breathed beside me. "She's the High Priestess's daughter. From the Eldrethine Grove."
My stomach dropped. Not just talented. Sanctioned-by-the-gods talented.
Darcy returned to us beaming, cradling Void against her chest. The little bat looked half-flattened and absurdly pleased with himself.
"Well done, Darcy!" Maddy cheered, throwing her arms around her. "Your shadow work was insane."
Ryven high-fived her, flashing a grin, while Ezra gave her a single approving nod.
"Damn," Ryven muttered. "That Rhea girl is someone to watch."
"Hundred percent," Darcy agreed, still catching her breath. "She fights like she's been training since the womb."
More duels followed in a blur of elemental fury.
Bursts of flame collided with walls of water, and roots split the stone floor only to be crushed by howling winds.
Each time magic struck the barrier, the wards hummed louder, the silver-gold runes straining to contain the raw power of the first-year class. It was a spectacle of chaos and control in a perfect, precarious balance.
Ember nearly singed her opponent's eyebrows off, cackling without a shred of apology.
Meanwhile, Sera and Nyssa were a force of nature, absolutely dismantling Ryven and Solstice. While Sera's shadows coiled like snakes around Ryven's legs, Nyssa dive-bombed from the sky like a silent, lilac missile, all three eyes locked in brutal focus.
Now, Ryven was sprawled dramatically across Maddy's lap like a fallen hero of legend.
"I let her win," he grumbled into the fabric of Maddy's trousers.
"You got your ass handed to you," Maddy corrected sweetly, ruffling his dark curls as we all howled with laughter.
But the laughter died instantly at the next call.
"Next up," Professor Aldara announced, his voice slicing through the noise, "Ezra Valeor and Zaria Waters."
A heavy hush fell over the benches. Ezra rolled his neck, the joints popping in the quiet, and strolled toward the center of the ring as if he were headed for a casual chat rather than a war zone.
Ruin and Havoc prowled at his sides—one massive, muscular body with two snarling heads moving in eerie synchronization.
One head snapped lazily at the air while the other tracked the shifting water in the arena's far fountain with cold, predatory precision.
Their claws scraped against the heated stone, and saliva hissed where it struck the floor.
Then, the fountain erupted.
A massive sea serpent surged from the water, a sea-cobra the size of a siege tower.
Its hood flared in a sweeping fan of iridescent blue-green scales, and coiled muscle rippled beneath its slick skin as it rose higher and higher.
Water cascaded from its length in heavy sheets, and as the droplets struck the arena shield, the barrier flared sharply, absorbing the force with a deep, strained hum.
If that shield failed, the front row would be flattened.
Zaria Waters stepped forward, looking like the arena was her personal sovereign territory.
She was tiny—shorter than me, even—with porcelain skin and blue-black hair twisted into twin pigtails that brushed her waist. Her Tideris leathers clung to her small frame, but her ice-blue feline eyes didn't blink.
"I've never seen Ezra fight," I whispered.
Asher leaned forward, the warmth of his bare chest brushing my shoulder. "Ezra fights cocky," he said quietly. "He provokes first, makes you think he's careless. He wants you frustrated and overextended."
"He's not reckless," I muttered, watching Ezra's relaxed stance.
"No," Asher agreed. "He calculates while pretending he doesn't."
My eyes stayed locked on Zaria. "And her?"
"She's Tideris royalty. The princess."
My stomach dipped. Of course she was.
"She trained with the Drowned Blades," he continued.
I glanced back at him, startled. "The assassin order?"
"The kingdom calls them swordsmen," he said dryly. "They're executioners with etiquette. She doesn't try to overpower you. She constricts, controls the space, and cuts off your exits. Water isn't her weapon—positioning is."
"She fights like she's hunting," I noted. I paused, then asked, "So you know her well?"
A quiet hum of approval vibrated through him. "Yes." Then, after a heartbeat. "And I've been with her."
The words landed like a blade sliding between my ribs.
"Are you jealous?" he asked softly, his voice dropping into that dangerous, honeyed register.
"Of course not," I snapped, the denial coming far too fast.
"Don't worry, Princess." I felt him lean just a fraction closer. "My eyes are only on you."
My pulse stumbled, and heat climbed rapidly up my neck. I refused to turn around and give him the satisfaction. "Focus on the match," I managed to mutter.
"I am."
I felt his fingers find the end of one of my ponytails.
He twined the strand lazily around his knuckles, playing with the hair as he leaned back. I swatted his hand away, but when I turned to glare at him, I realized it was a terrible mistake.
He was reclined against the bench, elbows hooked casually along the backrest.
The training shorts stretched over thighs carved from years of combat, and sunlight skimmed over the sharp planes of his abdomen. His hair was a mess—dark curls falling into his face, the kind that made you want to reach out and fist your hand into them.
His silver eyes tracked mine, slow and deliberate. "Problem?" he asked quietly.
Gods help me.
I snapped my gaze back to the arena. "No."
In the ring, Zaria's sea serpent coiled higher, its shadow falling over Ezra.
"Fuck," Ezra breathed, his usual smirk faltering for just a second as she joined him in the center.
Professor Aldara's grin widened. "Meet Zaria and Nerida, her sea serpent boundling. And Ezra with Ruin and Havoc. Three… two… one—go!"
Zaria swept her arm outward, and the battle began.
A whip of water laced with ice-shards cracked toward Ezra.
He rolled clear as Ruin and Havoc lunged in sync, but Nerida intercepted them with a blast of freezing mist that frosted the hellhound's flanks.
Ezra retaliated, launching jagged shadow-spears from his palms.
Zaria deflected most, but as a few struck home, the sea serpent shrieked, her massive body thrashing against the stone. In response, Zaria hoisted her hands, suspending dozens of glacial spears above Ezra like a silent execution.
As they rained down, Ezra vanished into a shadow-step, reappearing behind her just as Ruin and Havoc struck.
One hound-head snapped for Zaria's shoulder, the other for her throat. Nerida surged forward, a tidal slam of scales meeting muscle. Jaws clamped onto her neck while her coils constricted the hound.
Ezra launched more shadows at the serpent's underbelly, but Zaria slammed her palms to the floor, detonating the fountain.