Chapter Ten
Power lashes out of me like a summer storm finally breaking across the sky—humid, raw, chaotic.
There’s no more fear.
No more freezing.
No more second-guessing.
I’m done being cornered; this only ends one way, with him down.
Everything seizes at once, tension locking me still as my Threads rip free—air and water intertwining, dragging moisture from the walls, the floor, even my own skin. The mix snaps through the space, fracturing the light into twisting streaks of colour.
It hurts. A sharp, frantic jolt ripping through me, leaving my whole body trembling and my breath fraying.
But I don’t care, as long as they keep coming.
Ryven staggers back, hand dropping from his groin as he raises his arm—
Too late.
I won’t die here. Not to him. Not like this.
I yank my arms down. Fast. Fists clenched and the storm buckles, snapping inward, collapsing into a single sphere of liquid that I can barely hold.
My eyes lock on his. Exhaling hard, like I’m forcing the panic out with my breath, I shove the magic forward.
Straight into his chest. Into his mouth.
It slams down his throat, into every breath he tries to take, filling his lungs.
Eyes wide, he chokes. Gasping. Drowning.
And still I’m not done.
My right hand extends, skin almost blistering with raw magic as my Threads start to tighten the air around his throat, cinching like a noose.
His hands scrabble at nothing, lips stretched in a silent scream.
Still the pressure keeps building—every breath harder.
For him.
For me.
I try to focus, to drive the energy into Ryven’s body, but it’s no use. The air clamps down around me too, thick and wild, like it’s turning on both of us.
Ears ring, vision fractures, as my Threads bounce off in all directions.
But still I don’t stop. I want to survive, get out of here, live long enough to burn this fucking place to the ground.
“Finish him.” Talen’s voice coils under my skin, inside the space between thought and instinct, wrapping around the thrum of my magic like it belongs there. “You know you want to...”
And God. I do.
I want to let go. Let it all burn. Every wound, every word, every look I’ve swallowed down just to survive.
Ryven’s hands slip from his throat to the floor, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the wood. His head droops, mouth parted, lips tinged blue.
I’m barely upright too now—legs shaking, breath ragged—but I don’t let go. I just tighten my grip, even as power screams through me, wild and fraying at the edges, ready to snap—
Then—
A scream.
Not Ryven.
Higher. Panicked. Real.
“Stop! Get her to stop! She’s killing her!”
The words cut right through me, through the magic, through the storm. My Threads drop like cut wires and Ryven’s body fully hits the floor in a gasping, twitching heap—clawing at his throat, choking on air he can finally reach.
His eyes find mine, wide and terrified, like I’m the monster.
What was I doing? What the hell was I about to do?
I drag in a deep breath, only now realising how hard the pressure had been crushing in around me too. And for a second, all I can hear is my own heartbeat.
Then I turn to the class and I see her.
Another cadet, four rows back, clutching at her throat, red marks all around it.
That was me. My Threads, my chaos, my emotions. Hell I’m no better than them, then Ryven, than Talen. He wanted this, he pushed me.
And I let him.
Smoke still clings to my tongue, acrid and thick, but my magic’s gone now, burned out, yet I can still feel the echo of it. A hollow buzz under my skin, like something that used to be alive.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Like that’ll help. But the room’s too loud. The blood’s too bright.
I didn’t want this. I never wanted this.
"Two Threads simultaneously..." My eyes snap open as Quinn steps in front of me.
"Even seasoned officers struggle with that. For a cadet? It’s nearly unheard of.
" He moves in closer, eyes watchful, calculating.
"I see why High Chancellor Merrin was so eager to get his hands on you.
The potential is... unprecedented. Especially in someone so young.
So untrained. So... rough around the edges. "
Standing there shaking, I want to scream. At him, at myself, at everyone. But I can’t. I’m too tired. Too empty.
“I think we’re done for today. We’ll, um, meet next week to discuss the outcomes and learn from them.” His eyes flick toward the girl in the fourth row. The one I nearly killed. “You, yes, you. Please follow Cadet Ryven and me to the Healing Wing for a checkup.”
Movement catches at the edge of my vision, Ryven.
He shoots me one last look before stepping off the platform, trailing after Quinn and the girl I nearly suffocated.
The fear on his face is already gone, replaced by something colder.
Something personal. Like I didn’t just bruise his body, I touched something deeper.
Then the room snaps, like someone cut a wire and the class jolts back to life. Benches scrape. Boots thud as cadets start filing out in tense little clumps. Only now does it hit me, how many eyes were on me. How many still are.
God, one month, get the journals, get out clean, but this place—
A shadow cuts across the floor. Talen.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t smirk. Just stands there, face blank, unreadable, one hand buried deep in his pocket like he’s got time to kill.
The sight of him slams into me, a sudden jolt stealing the air from my chest, because fuck—I’ve got nothing now. No magic. No plan. Just the throb in my arm and the dead silence under my skin where my Threads should be. And he’s the last person I want seeing me like this, empty, weak, vulnerable.
But I don’t give him the satisfaction. I brace against the pain, force it back where it belongs, and square myself like I’m not two seconds from tipping over.
“Disappointed I didn’t die?” I rasp.
At first he just watches me, still, silent. Then that smile unfurls—slow, crooked, left side first. Like it’s carved in. And fuck, it’s familiar now. I’ve seen enough of it to know exactly what follows.
“You think I would be,” he mocks. “But I’m actually.
.. impressed.” The smile spreads, slow but wicked, like he’s savouring something as he takes a step closer.
“At first, I figured I’d let someone else deal with you.
Quicker. Easier. You didn’t exactly strike me as a long-term problem.
But after you showed me those little thorns I knew you were hiding.
..” A breath, another step. “Maybe I do need to get my hands on you.” His head tilts, eyes gleaming now.
“I didn’t realise you’d be so much fun to play with—”
“Lyra!” Ezzy bolts toward me, then halts as her eyes flick from me to Talen, and I watch it hit her. The weight of him. The kind of stillness that doesn’t read as calm, just... dangerous.
She doesn’t speak. Just stiffens.
Behind her, I catch sight of Finn and Rowan hovering near the base of the platform, wide-eyed. Like they’re not sure if I’m about to collapse or catch fire. I don’t blame them, neither feels off the table.
Ezzy takes a step closer, hand outstretched, ready to pull me away again. Like I’m still that girl. The one who needs saving.
But not this time.
Not while he’s still watching.
I meet Talen’s eyes. My arm’s still screaming, legs shake, every part of me feels one wrong breath from coming apart—but I hold his gaze. He doesn’t get to see me fold.
“You want me?” My voice grates out. “Get in line behind Ryven.” Then I turn and walk out quick, before he can say anything back.
The corridor is too bright. Too glaring. Cadets move in perfect lines, voices low, footsteps crisp on stone, like nothing just happened.
I just want to get back to the dorm, figure out a plan, preferably without anyone else trying to corner or kill me.
But my ears still ring, my arm’s on fire and I can’t shake the feeling that every eye is on me. Watching. Judging. Waiting for me to crack. Still, I push forward, head down, pace steady.
Then, footsteps behind me, a spike of pain as fingers clamp down on my arm. Ezzy. She pulls hard, dragging me sideways into an empty lecture theatre. I twist away, instinct kicking in, but it sends a fresh jolt through the burn. I hiss, stumble, and she uses the moment to shove the door open.
Two more bodies slip in behind us, Rowan and Finn, and the door clicks shut.
Ezzy lets go. Dragging in a breath, I wince as I rub my arm.
In front of me, she’s already pacing—short, tight strides across the lecture theatre floor, hands twitching at her sides like she’s not sure whether to reach for me or brace for impact.
“Are you—” Ezzy starts, voice tight, eyes scanning every inch of me, “are you okay?”
What? How the hell am I meant to answer that?
No, I’m not fucking okay. Yesterday I was stealing apples for a cute guy back home, and today I’m being tossed into magical death matches while two hundred cadets watch like it’s theatre.
Real blood, real stakes, and somehow it still counts as “education.” And that it's my fault, that I'm stuck here for the next month because I got sloppy, let my guard drop, got caught, and now it’s this or dragon country.
My mouth still tastes like ash and blood, my Threads are raw, but I nod. Head down, mouth tight. I'm not sure how convincing the lie is, but it’s the only answer I’ve got.
Ezzy’s still pacing when she exhales, long and slow, like she’s been holding her breath since the fight started. Then she stops. Turns.
“Okay, good.” Her head tilts, voice soft.
“Look first of all... Ryven totally had it coming. Someone’s needed to knock him off that high horse since forever.
And the girl? Toxic doesn’t even start to cover it.
Seriously, ask anyone. No one’s exactly lighting candles for her.
So don’t feel bad about it.” She steps closer, eyes wide now, her tone shifting.
“But that’s not the point. We want to know how you did that. ”