Page 34

Illusions of Power

I stepped out from the main hall and into a landscape made new; the first snow had crept over the grounds, announcing its presence like a whispered secret.

Each step I took sent a soft crunch echoing through the stillness as I made my way across the courtyard, where statues and trees had been magically transformed by winter's breath.

I paused, mesmerized by the sight of gnarled branches dusted with glistening hoarfrost, each one a fleeting sculpture of crystalline artistry. Delicate flakes caught the silvered light, casting a shimmer over everything, turning the courtyard into an otherworldly scene.

The cold kissed the tips of my ears, sharpening my awareness, the way it always did before something important.

As I continued past the graceful willow trees, their trailing leaves softened by the season's tender embrace, the sound of the nearby fountains became a gentle symphony—water merging with the crunch of snow beneath my boots.

The anticipation built with each step I took toward the Drakestone arena, my breath visible in the chilled air like wisps of cloud.

I sensed that today, amidst this cocoon of quiet wonder, the magic permeating the air would prove even more potent than before. It was as though nature herself had orchestrated this moment, preparing for the inevitable clash between Samael and me.

The arena loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the soft blur of snow and sky.

My heart echoed the rhythm of my footsteps as I approached, the looming confrontation weaving through my thoughts.

So many hung on what might unfold today—so much uncertainty and unspoken tension.

Above me, the falling snowflakes whispered their own secrets, each one a silent omen descending from the heavy sky.

Drawing nearer, I saw the familiar figures of students gathered at the arena's entrance. Their faces, half-buried in scarves and toques, indulged in scattered conversations.

There he was—Samael, a dark flame against the snow’s purity.

In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

His dark eyes, cool and unyielding, found mine from across the threshold of the arena.

There was an intensity there—a silent challenge, a secret invitation, or perhaps a mirror of the unspoken tension that shrouded us both.

By his side, Vivienne was ever-present, a loyal shadow whose gaze rarely left him, while Edric lingered close, his expression inscrutable yet attentive.

I adjusted my gloves, steeling myself against both the cold and the weight of his stare.

Around us, the snow continued its silent descent, each flake a delicate witness to the tension that stretched between us like an invisible thread.

Professor Coldwell emerged from within the arena, his imposing figure cutting through the gathered students like a blade.

"Inside, all of you," he commanded, his voice carrying across the snow-hushed courtyard. "Today's lesson waits for no one, not even winter."

As we filed inside, I felt Samael's presence behind me—close enough that I could sense the heat radiating from him, a stark contrast to the biting chill.

The arena's interior was transformed; the usual dusty expanse now gleamed with an ethereal light reflected off patches of snow that had drifted through the open skylights.

Enchanted braziers cast dancing shadows across the walls, their flames unnaturally blue against the white backdrop.

"Pair up," Professor Coldwell announced, pacing the center of the arena. His boots left perfect imprints in the thin layer of snow. "Today we practice evasion and deception—Blink and Mirror. These aren't mere party tricks; they're the difference between life and death when dark forces pursue you."

My stomach tightened as Coldwell's scrutinizing gaze swept mercilessly over us, pausing in what felt like slow motion when it reached me. His voice was unyielding, each word a decree.

"Miss Vale," he said with a pointed glance that stopped my breath, "you'll demonstrate with Mr. Ashford."

His gaze drifted to Vivienne.

"Miss Devereux, you'll be with Mr. Wolfe."

He turned on his heel, focusing on Samael with an almost dismissive air.

"Mr. Norwood, you will be with Miss Lillendale."

The list sounded endless, rattling the air with implications that left my thoughts spinning.

A flicker of resentment sparked low in my chest, swift and unwanted, before I forced it down.

Vivienne's expression shifted to one of open defiance, her lips pressed thin and her fingers curling into tense fists at her sides. I saw the instant she decided to protest.

"Professor," she began with uncharacteristic hesitance, stepping into the open where her breath coiled like smoke, "perhaps I could—"

"I didn't ask for volunteers, Miss Devereux," Coldwell interrupted her, his tone cutting through her words with the precision of a blade and leaving no room for argument. "Take your place with Mr. Wolfe."

A charged silence followed, Vivienne's frustration nearly palpable as I moved to the center of the arena.

I was aware of the watchful eyes of my classmates following me, each gaze a weight that made me feel terribly exposed.

The snow beneath my feet yielded slightly, melting from the warmth of the ever-present magic that seemed to pulse through the very stones of this place.

"First positions," Coldwell commanded, his voice echoing around the arena and drawing every eye back to him.

Edric and I faced each other across the expansive arena floor, the white sheet of snow an unmarked battlefield between us.

Ten paces apart, we stood as though preparing for a showdown.

His stance appeared relaxed, but I recognized the coiled readiness—a predator conserving energy before the decisive strike.

I mirrored him as best I could and planted my feet firmly on the cold stone, my breath mingling with the icy air as it left me in uneven wisps.

The distance stretched before me, and an anxious unease settled in.

It should have been Samael standing here across from me, the thought flickered, unwelcome and stubborn.

Samael would never have allowed an opening that wide. The thought stung more than it should.

"We will begin with Blink," Coldwell resumed, his pacing constant and authoritative, "a simple yet critical incantation that allows for teleportation of short distances to evade an attack.

To utilize Blink, you must incant the word Evanscere .

The distance you can travel is based solely on the power of the one using the incantation. "

He paused, his words gaining weight, as if bending the echoes of the room to his will.

"Remember, visualization is key. Picture your destination clearly before you attempt to cross the space between."

"Ladies first," Edric offered with the slightest curl of his lips.

"Oh, how chivalrous," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Edric's eyes flashed with mischievous determination as he drew in a deep, steadying breath.

In an instant, a sudden burst of blue energy hurtled toward me—a searing arc of pure magic slicing through the frigid air.

My heart hammered in my chest as I raised my hands, feeling the familiar surge of power mingle with the chill of the arena.

“Evanscere! " I commanded under my breath, focusing every ounce of my will on a destination I visualized in the periphery—a safe space just beyond the reach of the blast.

In a heartbeat, I felt the shift—the sensation of dissolving and reappearing—and I found myself a few paces away as the blue energy crashed into the spot I had just left.

Before I could catch my breath, Edric wasted no time.

Another burst, even more relentless, streaked across the arena.

This time, I closed my eyes for a brief moment, picturing not just an escape route but the precise gap between danger and safety.

" Evanscere! " I intoned again, the incantation flowing over my tongue like a promise.

My body flickered—the magic of the spell carrying me to the edge of Edric’s onslaught, leaving only a trail of shimmering afterimages in my wake.

For a tense moment, the air held its breath.

The rapid cadence of Edric's bursts forced my focus sharper, the pressure mounting with each successive attack.

I felt the raw thrill of the challenge—the need to be faster, clearer, more decisive.

Each evasion became a dance between force and finesse, and as I reappeared after each blink, I could sense my own magic solidifying, growing more resilient with every leap.

With one final surge of resolve, I pivoted sharply on my heels, feeling the magic within me coalesce into a focused, determined beam.

In one fluid motion, I channeled my power forward, sending a concentrated burst of shimmering energy straight toward Edric.

The unexpected attack left him momentarily caught off guard.

I watched as his eyes widened in surprise, his body instinctively twisting to the side.

His magical intuition kicked in, and he barely escaped the path of my assault—just a hair’s breadth away from impact.

The spell skimmed past him, leaving a trail of luminous sparks that quickly dissolved into the cool arena air.

In that split second, the dynamic shifted: our duel became a rapid exchange of challenge and counter. For a moment, joy cut through the tension—sharp, dangerous, addictive—as laughter escaped me.

My breath came in quick, controlled bursts, visible in the freezing air. The snow beneath my feet yielded slightly, melting under the heat of the magic pulsing through the arena stones, leaving behind slick patches that shimmered with danger.

Yet I found myself smiling, genuinely smiling, as Edric and I circled each other with growing respect in our eyes.

When he sent a particularly powerful blast my way, I didn't just blink away—I pivoted mid-teleportation, twisting through the space between spaces to appear directly behind him.