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"You should thank her," whispered a voice against my ear, silken and cold. "A duel is the perfect place to break something precious."

The Raven’s Echo. Its amusement licked at the edges of my mind, coiling in the hollow spaces where fear tried to take root.

"And if she breaks you first?" it added, almost tenderly. "Oh, Elvana... then I’ll help you rebuild stronger."

I swallowed hard, hands twitching with residual fire.

Vivienne’s eyes held mine, daring me.

"I’m in," I said, my voice clear, slicing through the heavy air like a blade.

Professor Coldwell gave a single nod. "Then let’s see what you’ve learned."

He motioned us to opposite ends of the sparring ground. Snow crunched underfoot as I took my position. I could feel every eye on me—their stares heavy as frost.

Vivienne rolled her shoulders, energy already crackling at her fingertips.

This wasn’t just a lesson.

It was going to be a war.

Vivienne and I stepped into the center of the arena, the hush of the crowd wrapping around us like snowfall. My heart thudded against my ribs, sharp and uneven. Vivienne's eyes glittered, cruel and bright, her smirk a silent promise of destruction.

Professor Coldwell raised one hand.

“Begin.”

The air cracked.

Vivienne struck first—of course she did.

A blast of crackling blue electricity tore through the space between us, too fast to track. I barely managed to throw up a Basic Cast, a wide arc of raw magic that clashed against hers midair. The collision exploded in a blinding spray of light and sparks, the noise sharp as shattered glass.

Before the mist even cleared, she was already moving again.

“ Expello! ” she shouted, a whip of violet force lashing toward me like a snapping cord.

I dove sideways, boots skidding across frost-slick stone. The spell carved a line through the ground where I’d been standing, the crack glowing faintly before sealing shut.

“ Defendo! ” I countered, throwing a shield up as she advanced again.

It caught her next strike—barely. The shield buckled under the force, sending vibrations down my arms.

Vivienne’s grin widened. She was enjoying this.

“ Averto! ” she called as I flung a bolt of flame her way. Her deflection rune shimmered midair, flicking my fire harmlessly into the snowbank behind her.

She blurred forward in a flash.

“ Evanscere! ”

I barely had time to react. She vanished, reappearing just feet from me, already casting.

A pulse of cold magic crackled from her hands.

“Cheap—” I started, ducking low. Her strike grazed my shoulder, the burn immediate.

A gasp rippled through the crowd.

I tasted blood—bit my cheek when I hit the ground.

“ Illusio! ”

Two Viviennes stood before me now—mirror images, both pulsing with arcane energy.

I hesitated. That was enough.

A jolt slammed into my ribs. My body hit the stone hard. The illusion dissolved the instant her real self landed the blow.

Pain rang through me. I rolled to my knees, breathing hard, vision swimming.

She was already summoning another.

" Expello! " Her palm glowed blue.

" Averto! " I shouted, flinging a shaky deflection charm—just strong enough. The blast hissed past me, slicing a lock of hair clean off my braid.

“Too slow,” she taunted, circling me like a wolf. “You always were.”

“ Immobilis! ” I snarled.

Vivienne froze mid-step, the paralysis charm locking her limbs for a precious second.

That was all I needed.

I surged to my feet, drawing heat to my core, pushing everything else away—the sting in my side, the crowd, the fear.

“ Expello! ”

The spell slammed into her chest, lifting her off her feet.

Vivienne hit the ground hard, sliding across the icy stone. Snow scattered around her like shattered glass.

She gritted her teeth, crouched, hands already glowing.

She came at me again—faster, harder.

I raised my shield.

“ Defendo! ”

The first strike hit like a hammer. Then another. And another.

The barrage didn’t stop. She was throwing magic like daggers now, each one heavier than the last.

One slipped through, grazing my thigh. I staggered.

“ Restaura, ” I whispered, and warmth slid through my muscles like liquid light, easing the pain just enough to hold my stance.

She lifted both arms now, her face wild—snow sticking to her hair, eyes blazing.

The Raven’s Echo curled into my mind like smoke.

“End it,” it breathed. “Show her who you are.”

I gritted my teeth, fingers flexing as I centered myself.

Vivienne lunged.

I let her come.

“ Evanscere! ”

The world blinked—and I was behind her.

Fire already in my hands.

“ Expello! ”

It hit her between the shoulder blades, the force sending her sprawling forward in a swirl of white.

She didn’t rise.

The crowd erupted—shouts, gasps, a sharp intake of breath from someone too close.

Vivienne sat up slowly, snow dusting her braid, her expression thunderous.

Professor Coldwell raised one hand.

“Enough.”

Silence fell, immediate and heavy.

I stood there, chest heaving, hands still faintly glowing.

She glared at me from the ground, magic sparking weakly from her fingertips—but she didn’t cast again.

Across the arena, Samael’s eyes were on me.

He didn’t smile. Not exactly.

But the corner of his mouth curled, just barely, and he dipped his head in a slow nod—like he saw something in me that hadn’t been there before.

Something he recognized.

I looked away quickly, brushing a strand of hair back into place. My braid had half unraveled. My robes were rumpled. My sleeves scorched.

The Raven’s Echo purred against my chest, a low vibration of satisfaction.

“Well executed, Miss Vale,” Professor Coldwell said, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. “Your use of the Evanscere spell was unexpected.”

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

I caught fragments

—"never seen her fight like that—

—"how did she learn—"

Vivienne was still sitting in the snow, shoulders tight with humiliation.

“This isn’t—” Vivienne gasped, forcing herself upright, hands balled into fists. “She cheated. She had to.”

Professor Coldwell tilted his head. “Miss Devereux, I observed no breach of protocol.”

“No,” Vivienne snapped. Her voice rang through the room, brittle and furious. “She’s never been this good. Not her. Something’s off. She’s using something—some charm, some spell.”

She turned to me, her gaze seething. “What is it, Vale? A relic? Some hidden enchantment passed down with your cursed name?”

I stood silent. Frozen. The room had gone utterly still.

Vivienne’s eyes bored into me, demanding a reaction. Waiting for a crack. I gave her nothing.

Her face flushed red, her braid coming undone, strands of brown hair sticking to her temple. Her whole body trembled with barely-contained rage.

“This isn’t over,” she said, voice low, shaking. “You think this makes you special? That this changes anything”

She took a step forward.

Magic flickered in my palms—reactive, warning.

Vivienne stopped, just short of the line.

So did everyone else.

"I said, that is enough."

Coldwell’s voice sliced through the arena like a blade of ice. His presence, normally cool and commanding, now pulsed with dangerous stillness.

Vivienne halted, chest heaving. Her eyes burned—not with power, but with something far more human: humiliation. Pain. Pride shattered into jagged edges.

Then she laughed, once. A brittle sound.

And threw out her arm.

A bolt of raw, unfocused magic cracked into the stone wall behind her, detonating in a burst of steam and fractured rock. Snow melted instantly, water hissing down the scorched wall like tears.

Gasps broke through the crowd. A ripple of fear.

"Miss Devereux," Coldwell growled, voice low and laced with thunder, "compose yourself."

She stood rigid, lips parted around a retort that never came.

His tone dropped lower.

"Now."

Vivienne’s jaw locked. For a moment, I thought she might disobey—might throw another spell just to see who could stop her. But instead, she swallowed hard, trembled once, then lowered her arm.

Around us, the arena buzzed with whispered speculation.

Coldwell didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.

"Magical Combat," he said, turning to the assembled students, "is not just an exhibition of power. It is a measure of control. Of discipline. Of character."

He paused, eyes scanning the crowd. When they landed on me, I felt my spine straighten involuntarily beneath the weight of his gaze.

"And today, character has been revealed."

Silence. Absolute.

Then he looked back to Vivienne, who stood like a cracked statue—eyes glassy, hands trembling.

"Miss Devereux," he said, the authority in his voice like a vice, "you will remain behind."

It was not a suggestion.

Vivienne flinched like she’d been struck.

She said nothing. Just stood there, breathing heavily, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles flex in her cheek. Slowly, as if lifting a mountain, she crossed her arms and turned her face away.

Professor Coldwell’s gaze fell on me once more.

"Miss Vale." His head inclined ever so slightly. "Well fought."

No smile. But the closest thing to approval I’d ever heard from him.

I nodded, unable to find my voice. My hands still twitched from the energy that hadn’t yet left them. I was shaking—just a little—but not from fear.

From power.

"Class dismissed," Coldwell announced, turning his back.

Samael hadn’t moved from his spot.

I looked for him automatically, and when our eyes met again, he gave me the smallest nod.

It wasn’t praise.

It was understanding.

I took one last breath of cold air, letting it sear my lungs clean. The sting in my ribs reminded me that none of this was a dream. That I’d survived—no, won —a duel that wasn’t just magic.

It was everything unspoken between us.

And for once, I hadn't backed down.