Page 25

The weight of his words settled uncomfortably on my shoulders as we continued down the path. Students flowed around us like a river parting around stones, some casting curious glances our way.

We reached the massive obsidian doors of the arena, carved with intricate runes that pulsed with subdued magical energy.

As we approached, they swung open silently, revealing the cavernous space within.

The arena floor was a perfect circle of polished black stone, surrounded by tiered seating that rose like the inside of a massive geode, crystalline formations jutting from the walls and ceiling.

“Good luck today, Elvana Vale, ” Edric said, letting my full name linger on his tongue like something rich and dangerous.

His voice dipped into that intimate register—low, velvety, and far too close. It sent a prickle down my spine, half warning, half something I wasn’t willing to name.

“You might need it.”

Before I could respond, he melted into the crowd of students filing toward the upper tiers. I stood frozen for a moment, his words echoing in my mind.

"Welcome to Magical Combat," Professor Coldwell announced once we had assembled in a loose circle around him. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, surveyed us with clinical interest. "This is not a class for the faint-hearted or the unprepared.

Magic is a gift, but in combat, it becomes a weapon—one that can protect or destroy. "

My pulse quickened as the heavy doors of the arena swung shut with an ominous thud. Professor Coldwell’s gaze swept over the gathered students, his voice steady and commanding.

"Magic in combat," he continued, "is both art and discipline.

It is not merely the recitation of incantations, as Professor Maximort would have you believe, but the channeling of your inner strength—your will—to expel magical energy from your very hands.

" He paused, letting his words sink in as a hush fell over the crowd.

He continued, "For those who seek to defend themselves, remember the incantation Defendo! —a simple command to create a shield of pure force. And for those who wish to deflect a strike, use Averto! to send a caster’s magic back with significant force.

" His tone grew even more measured. "But do not think these spells are mere words.

They are the keys to unlocking the power within you, requiring both precision and resolve. "

A murmur rippled through the assembled students as Coldwell raised a hand for silence.

"Today’s duel is not just a test of your ability to summon incantations, but of your control over the magic that surges within. You will be paired randomly, and your task is simple: defend yourself and score a hit on your opponent without causing irreversible harm."

He paced slowly before us, his boots echoing on the polished stone floor.

"Remember, you are not simply casting spells. You are manifesting your strength, your character. A duel here reveals not only your mastery of magical combat, but the essence of who you are."

His eyes, as sharp as the runes etched into the obsidian doors behind him, swept the circle once more.

"Your performance today will be a reflection of your inner fortitude.

In this arena, every incantation is a challenge to your own limits.

The rules are clear: engage with respect, control your magic, and let your true character be revealed.

Now, step forward and prepare for your duel. "

“Move with precision, focus on your target, and never let your opponent behind you. Prove yourself, Dear Elvana. Your life depends on it.” The amulet’s voice slithered into my mind, low and urgent, laced with a predator’s thrill.

I pressed my palm against my sternum, trying to quell the amulet’s agitation. The metal felt unnaturally hot through the fabric of my uniform, branding its warning into my skin.

My gaze involuntarily swept across the gathered students until it landed on Samael, who stood rigid at the opposite side of the circle, his dark eyes already fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"For our first demonstration," Professor Coldwell announced, his voice cutting through the whispers in my mind, "we shall have.

.." He made a show of scanning the assembled students, but there was a calculating precision to his gaze that belied any pretense of randomness. "Miss Vale and Mr. Norwood."

A collective intake of breath rippled through the crowd. Everyone knew of Samael’s prowess in magical combat—his reputation for ruthless efficiency had spread through Drakestone like wildfire. And now, somehow, I was to face him.

I fought to maintain my composure as I stepped forward, the polished stone floor cool beneath my feet. Across from me, Samael advanced with predatory grace, his expression unreadable save for a flicker of something—concern? Anticipation?—in his eyes.

"Take your positions," Professor Coldwell instructed, his voice carrying an undercurrent of satisfaction that chilled me more than the prospect of the duel itself.

Samael and I faced each other in the center of the arena, the distance between us charged with unspoken tension. The runes along the perimeter of the dueling circle flared to life, casting an eerie blue glow across his angular features.

“Scared, Vale ?” Samael taunted, his tone sharp—but underneath it, something softer stirred. A flicker of something unspoken. It echoed the shadows of our last encounter in the library—danger and restraint, wound tightly together.

I lifted my chin, schooling my features despite the thunder of my heartbeat. “Of you, Norwood ? Hardly.”

The lie burned bitter as it passed my lips, but I held his gaze.

Samael’s eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that no one else could hear.

“Try to keep up, little raven…”His breath brushed the edge of my cheek, dark and deliberate.

“I’d hate to see you break so easily.”

A flash of blue electric energy crackled between his open palms—a silent demonstration of his prowess in offensive magic. The blue sparks danced along his fingers, illuminating his sharp features for a heartbeat.

“Sometimes,” Samael said, eyes gleaming with something sharp and unreadable, “ raw power speaks louder than any spell. It’s control, not noise, that proves real strength.”

His words thrummed with quiet danger—a warning dressed as philosophy.

I met his gaze without flinching, letting the heat rise behind my calm.

“Maybe,” I said coolly, a spark of defiance curling through my voice, “but I’ll let my magic —and my words —do the talking today.”

Every syllable landed like a challenge, quiet but deliberate.

Samael took a measured step back, rolling his shoulders as arcs of blue energy flickered between his fingers. The air between us hummed with anticipation, charged with the raw pulse of magic waiting to be unleashed.

Professor Coldwell raised his hand. “Begin.”

I barely had time to react before Samael moved—fast. A surge of electric-blue energy erupted from his palm, streaking toward me like lightning. Instinct took over. I threw up my hands and shouted, “Defendo!” A shimmering barrier materialized just in time, absorbing the impact with a crackling hiss.

Samael didn’t pause. He pivoted sharply, cutting his hand through the air to send another bolt straight toward my side. This time, I didn’t block—I moved. My body twisted out of the way, the energy scorching past me, close enough to raise the fine hairs on my arm.

"Not bad," Samael mused, eyes gleaming as he circled me, a predator sizing up his prey. "But let’s see how long you can keep up."

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I channeled my magic, feeling the energy surge from within, pooling in my palms. I pushed forward, unleashing a bolt of my own. Samael dodged easily, his movements fluid, almost effortless.

The duel became a dance—strike, evade, counter. Every burst of magic sent arcs of light flashing through the arena, illuminating Samael’s sharp features, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the unwavering focus in his gaze.

I grit my teeth, determined. I needed to land a hit.

With a quick step, I feinted to the left, drawing his attention, then thrust my hand forward, sending a controlled pulse of energy toward his exposed side. But at the last second, he twisted—too fast—and suddenly, he wasn’t avoiding my attack. He was redirecting it.

"Averto!"

My own magic turned against me, slamming into my hastily thrown-up shield with jarring force. The impact sent me staggering back, my breath catching.

Samael smirked, stepping in just enough to crowd the space between us. His voice was a low murmur, meant for me alone.

“Getting tired, Elvana?”

I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, forcing stillness into my limbs. My pulse pounded, but I met his gaze with a slow, deliberate smile.

“Not even close,” I said, every word laced with grit and something darker— promise.

And this time, I didn’t wait.

I struck first.

I didn’t give him time to counter. My hands snapped forward, unleashing a concentrated surge of magic.

The blue energy crackled through the air, faster, sharper—deliberate.

Samael dodged, but he was a fraction too late.

The force clipped his shoulder, sending a ripple through his stance.

His smirk faltered, just for a breath, before it returned—darker now, more dangerous.

"Finally," he murmured, rolling his shoulder as if shaking off the impact. His dark eyes gleamed with something that made my stomach twist—not anger, not annoyance—excitement?

I didn’t have time to analyze it.