Page 10 of Shadebound (Dark Fantasy #1)

Magic flared. Bones snapped. I watched a girl laugh while she killed. Not because it was sport. Because it was easier than pretending she was still somewhat human.

No one asked who won. That wasn’t the point. Survival was the only applause.

And some of us were very good at earning it.

F lames from a fire witch burst from the left, pillars of heat roaring skyward.

Lightning forked across the ceiling in jagged streaks, crackling like a whip as the silver haired spirit witch who wielded it laughed.

Shards of ice from a frost kitsune shot out like frozen spears, embedding themselves in the stone with a splintering crack.

A wave of water from a siren surged in a frothy rush, sending fighters skidding off their feet.

And a sudden gust of wind whipped embers into a swirling tornado of heat and grit.

All normal things. Totally regular and not at all overstimulating enough to make me want to scream again.

“Let’s show them how it’s done,” Zayden called, his tone calm amid the chaos. For a moment, I wondered why he hadn’t shifted into his full werewolf form—then the ground trembled, a fissure ripping open as a nature witch bent earth magic to fight.

The sight of that magic made all other thoughts vanish.Not just because seeing someone manipulate nature was insane no matter how many times you saw it.

Someone screamed, snatching my focus back from trauma and twin sisters.

The ground shook harder as a polar bear shifter exploded into fur and claws and launched across the icy parts of the floor.

Before I could steady myself after losing grip, another group of people were wielding weapons from the tables.

They clashed together as magic cracked through the air like a storm.

“Zayden—” I started, but he was already moving.

I caught his eye for a heartbeat, sharing a silent promise. He instantly slid into position on my left as his body quivered. His muscles glowed with silver light from his wolf shifter magic.

“Last one standing wins. Don’t kill anyone who doesn’t try to kill you.” His silver eyes flickered as his shift finally started. Albeit just to give him sharp teeth and claws. “And don’t use your magic, J. At all.”

I had no idea who we were fighting. Or why. The teams had not been explained to me. Nor had the rules. It was just chaos.

I took part, though.

Happily.

I grabbed Draven’s sleeve and pulled him toward a broken chunk of the wall for cover. My mind raced through possibilities. But when I spotted the weapons table again, just beyond our makeshift shield, I pointed and signed; We need blades.

He nodded, and we dashed towards it, weaving through the fray as weapons and sparks flew.

I sidestepped a spinning ember; Draven dove under a crackling bolt.

For a heartbeat, I glanced back at Zayden.

He still hadn’t fully shifted; it was only his head that had turned into a wolf.

In his full wolf form, he would have been easily twice my height, with silver fur bristling over broad shoulders, massive limbs built for tearing.

But even without that, he was more than capable as he lunged at the kitsune, jaws clamping around them, tearing their throat out and breaking their neck.

The sickening crack of bone echoed in my ears, and a fierce rush of dark excitement warmed me.

Was this an inappropriate time to recall how his regular teeth felt grazing along my neck?

Or my thighs.

My brother and I skidded to a stop at the table.

But before either of us could grab a weapon, a gnarled wooden spear whistled for Draven’s head.

I yanked him down, shadows flaring to parry the strike with a burst of darkness.

Then I cursed under my breath, reminding myself not to touch my magic as I got back to my feet and sought out the danger in a more humanly manner.

A bland, lifeless, pathetic manner.

The nature witch from before stepped into view—nothing like the gentle earth weavers I’d known. Instead, his golden hair whipped around his snarling face, making him look more Chad the Alpha Bro who talked shit about women on a podcast. Rather than a forest guardian who knew basic respect.

Earth magic rippled across his muscles, roots bursting from the ground at his command. He leant in with a smirk and spat, “Don’t waste your little girl magic—leave the real work to the big boys and die already.”

Draven yanked the sword off the ground and swung it in a wide arc, forcing the man to parry and buy me a moment.

I seized two slender, serrated knives from the table—perfect for slipping between defences and carving pretty patterns in flesh—and melted into the shadows at his flank.

When he launched a spike of earth magic at Draven, I appeared again, driving both blades into his side.

As he staggered, blood spurting and splashing against my cheeks, I laughed. “See you later, big boy.”

Two dozen combatants roared on, blades clashing and spells exploding in a blistering ballet of violence.

Draven and I moved to stand back-to-back, weapons raised, scanning the bedlam: a fire wielder launching spinning infernos, the siren collapsing foes with tidal walls, and an angel duellist diving like a falcon.

Bodies collided in showers of sparks, magic crackled, and screams and cheers blended into deafening chaos.

I had goosebumps. Lots and lots of delightful goosebumps.

To my right, Zayden lunged into the fray, grabbing a red-eyed girl with fangs who screamed almost as loud as a banshee.

She snapped her vampire teeth at his throat, but he just snarled.

And with a single, terrible twist of his hand, he used his advanced shifter strength to crush her spine.

Her bones cracked like dry wood, and he tore her apart—ripping limb from limb as blood spattered across the sand.

I watched, pulse pounding, and couldn’t suppress a dark thrill at the glorious carnage.

This wasn’t a trial. It was a fucking bloodsport I couldn’t understand the point of.

The rules didn’t matter. There were no referees, teachers stepping in, no magical barriers to keep anyone safe. It was raw, wild, vicious. A dozen different powers colliding at once, bodies slamming together. Hundreds of voices lost in the cacophony of roars and magic.

I saw a girl with obsidian wings be thrown into the stands, crushing watchers.

Only for her to fly back down a second later and impale another student with twin daggers.

The siren created a slick wave that sent three opponents skidding violently into a wall, bones crunching on impact.

The air shimmered with heat as a fire user launched a spinning wheel of flame that disintegrated someone’s shield mid-cast, catching their clothes and setting them ablaze.

They rolled on the ground, screaming.

Nobody cared.

A boy with glowing runes carved into his arms cast what looked like a chain of lightning across the pit, and it arced wildly between bodies, making one student seize and collapse.

Another lunged on all fours in his werewolf form, claws swiping at a girl who vanished in a blink.

Only for her to reappear behind him with a cruel grin and a blade that sang through his throat with too much ease.

Somewhere to my right, a chunk of stone erupted upward like a spike, flinging another student into the seats above.

He was pulled apart by the people who watched. Their hands yanked at his clothes and flesh until he was limp.

Everywhere I looked, magic crackled, hissed, roared, the heat stinging my skin. The ground shook beneath us as if it were alive. The air smelt of nothing but fear and blood.

I ducked low as a chunk of ice sailed past my ear, embedding itself in the wall behind me with a jagged crunch. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my teeth, and every part of me buzzed—not with fear, but something fiercer.

Wilder.

Exhilaration .

I wasn’t scared. Not exactly. I was alive . In the worst way possible. This place wanted me dead, and I could feel every inch of my body ready to push back. To show them why this was all just child’s play.

But Draven— Draven was next to me, ducking and dodging. Not at all enjoying the bedlam in the same manner. I watched as he was almost clipped by a stray burst of fire. My instincts locked onto him like a tether, every breath focussed on keeping him standing.

With a huff of effort, I threw up an almost invisible barrier of shadows behind us.

It was just in time to block a barrage of ice shards that looked like glass but burned like acid.

I willed the darkness to coil tighter, feeling each jagged edge shatter against the void I’d created.

But still keeping it almost invisible to the watchers in the crowd.

Then Draven spun, sword flashing in swift, brutal arcs.

His blade sliced through the air and, with a final downward chop, decapitated the ice fairy who’d lunged for him.

She was viciously beautiful—sharp-pointed ears jutting from icy blue hair, skin tinged the pale hue of frost, and tiny wings dusted with sparkles.

Yet I found her far prettier when her head tumbled across the sand, wings fluttering in a final, eerie dance.

My admiration was shortened when Draven stumbled beside me as he tried to get to safety again. And I felt it before I saw it—a flare of cold, wrong magic.

I spun to my left, shadows silently screaming at me.

Icy blue flames roared toward my brother, curling like a whip aimed for his chest. They hissed with a frozen crackle, each shard of icy fire slicing the air.

They were a breath away from burning through bone and flesh.

Their wielder was too far for me to use my blades. Or even think of secrecy with shadows.

“Jinx!” Zayden’s voice, sharp with panic, reached me like a lifeline I was too far gone to reach. “Don’t!”

I didn’t think. I just moved.