CHAPTER EIGHT #4
The wave hit like a collapsing wall.
It slammed into me, soaking me through and hurling me sideways across the stone. My shoulder struck hard. Gravel tore skin.
Cold.
Too cold.
Styx was already on Aether.
Tentacles lashed with brutal precision, wrapping around him—one coiling around his neck, another cinching tight around his hind leg. Aether sank his teeth into the nearest limb, flames erupting across his body in a blinding flare.
The shield flared violently at the impact of colliding magic, runes blazing as steam exploded outward.
But the octopus did not recoil.
It did not scream.
It did not burn.
It tightened.
Horror slid down my spine as Styx began dragging him toward the fountain.
"Aether!" I screamed.
He snapped one tentacle in half with a savage twist, roaring fire again—white-hot and furious. Flames consumed Styx's slick hide—
And still it fought on.
That was wrong.
Water magic weakens under sustained flame.
I forced myself upright and looked at Zorian.
The current around him pulsed.
Not flowing.
Pulsing.
His aura had widened—water spiraling further from his body than it had any right to. The pressure inside the shield shifted, subtle but unmistakable. The wards shimmered again, recalibrating to the strain.
His eyes weren't just blue anymore.
They were overbright.
Veins at his temples flickered faintly beneath damp skin.
Heightened.
My stomach dropped.
He wasn't just channeling.
He was forcing more through his core than he should be capable of.
First-years weren't supposed to sustain that kind of draw.
Illegal.
"He's heightening," I breathed, fury slicing through the cold in my veins. "He's drawing illegally."
Aether's growl was low and savage. "Then he will pay for it."
Across the arena, Zorian smiled.
And pulled harder.
A geyser of water detonated beneath my feet, launching me skyward.
I twisted midair, fire blazing in my palms, and hurled a spinning ring of flame down toward him—a burning cage meant to trap him inside.
He walked straight through it.
Water shimmered around his body, dense and rippling. Ice formed over his boots and climbed his calves in jagged armor.
Steam slid off him harmlessly as the flames bent away, distorting like they had struck something heavier than air.
My stomach dropped.
He shouldn't be able to do that.
Another surge.
Ice speared upward, grazing my side.
A whip of water cracked across my back, knocking the breath from my lungs. I hit the stone hard, magic flickering beneath my skin like a dying pulse.
Aether roared and collided with Styx, fangs sinking deep as fire poured over the creature in a blinding wave.
It shrieked.
It did not fall.
It coiled tighter.
Professor Aldara stepped forward, magic flaring around his hands.
“Zorian!” His voice thundered. “Release the channel immediately. That is beyond regulated draw!”
The wards around the arena shimmered violently now—the barrier glowing brighter, runes carved into the stone pulsing unevenly as they absorbed the strain. They held.
But barely.
I was still inside.
And Zorian didn't stop.
He lifted both hands.
The air went glacial.
Water condensed above me—sharp, suspended, crystalline.
Knives.
Too fast.
A tendril lashed from behind and wrapped around my throat.
It tightened instantly.
Cold pressure crushed my windpipe. My feet left the ground.
I choked, fingers clawing at liquid force that refused to disperse.
It wasn't just water.
It was pressure.
Compacted.
Forced.
Aether felt it. Panic ripped through our bond as he spun toward me and lunged.
Styx intercepted him mid-leap. The octopus slammed him into the arena floor hard enough to rattle the shield.
A massive tentacle wrapped around his torso and constricted.
Fire flickered around him.
Across the ring, Zorian's eyes flared brighter, veins illuminated faintly along his neck as he pulled more through his core.
The Ring hummed.
Strained.
He was tearing at his own limits.
And I was running out of air.
"AVA!" Ember screamed.
"Stand down, Tideris!" Aldara thundered.
Through the blur at the edges of my vision, I saw students slamming against the barrier, magic sparking uselessly as the wards flared brighter, runes blazing in protest.
Zorian looked at me.
And smiled.
The water around my throat tightened.
Cold pressure crushed inward, merciless.
My vision blurred. Black crept in from the edges. My lungs burned. Aether's pain lashed through the bond.
Voices blurred—panicked, furious, calling my name—but the world narrowed into this single moment. The crushing pressure. The helplessness.
Then—
A deep, unnatural crack tore through the arena.
The wards screamed.
The shield shuddered violently.
And the arena plunged into darkness.
Gasps.
Screams.
Chaos.
The water around my throat vanished.
I collapsed forward, air ripping into my lungs in a ragged inhale.
Somewhere in the dark, I heard Zorian swear.
He didn't sound smug anymore.
Boots thundered across stone—guards, shouting orders.
Magic flared wildly beyond the ring.
And the last thing I saw was a pair of silver eyes glowing in the dark.