Page 42 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

Thalon's deep, rumbling voice flooded my mind, steady and grounding. I closed my eyes briefly, letting the bond between us smooth the jagged edges inside me. His presence pulsed warm at the back of my consciousness, a constant reminder that isolation was just an illusion.

"You've faced worse odds before," he continued, his tone mixing confidence with something softer. "Trust your instincts."

I nodded barely, my resolve strengthening. This was what all the preparation had been for—this exact moment when I'd have to prove that their faith in me hadn't been misplaced. More than that, this was when I'd prove to myself that I deserved to be here. I could do this. I would do this.

"Good luck," Mason murmured as I stepped forward, his voice rough around the edges. He didn't say more, but our bond hummed with his emotions—love, concern, and a fierce, unshakeable belief in my ability to succeed. It was enough.

I descended the steps to the arena floor, my boots grinding against gravel.

The other candidates in my group were already gathering, their expressions a mix of determination and barely- contained panic.

The magic in the air buzzed against my skin like static, a constant reminder of the wards that surrounded the battlefield.

As I took my place among them, I forced myself to breathe deeply, to focus. The arena stretched out before us, filled with obstacles and opportunities. The shimmering shields and scattered weapons caught the light, and I could already see the hunger in some of the candidates' eyes.

Isolde's voice cut through the tension again, pulling my attention back to her. "You have ten seconds to prepare yourselves. When the horn sounds, the trial begins."

Ten seconds. That was all the time I had to decide my strategy.

Around me, the other candidates shifted, their tension thick in the air.

Some were already eyeing the weapons closest to them, their muscles coiled like springs about to snap.

Others glanced around nervously, their uncertainty written in every twitch and fidget.

I took a deep breath, letting my gaze sweep over the battlefield.

The terrain was designed to encourage direct combat—open spaces around the scattered weapons, narrow ledges that would force close encounters, and foggy patches that could conceal ambushes.

But there were also areas that offered cover: crumbling pillars, elevated platforms, and shadowed corners where the fog was thickest.

But the most unnerving feature of the arena was the pits.

Scattered throughout the battlefield, they gaped darkly, voids of blackness that seemed to devour light.

They weren't natural. Their edges shimmered faintly with magic, and the air around them hummed with power that made my teeth ache.

Anyone who fell into a pit would be instantly teleported out of the arena, disqualified from the trial.

It wasn't death, but it might as well have been for anyone desperate to prove themselves worthy of becoming a Dragon Rider.

For someone like me, failure here meant more than just missing an opportunity—it meant confirming every doubt anyone had ever had about whether I truly belonged.

My mind raced, calculating every possibility, every angle.

I wasn't great with weapons yet—nowhere close.

But I had something they didn't know about: magic.

I'd been practicing quietly, testing my limits, learning to channel more of it without drawing attention.

It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't enough to overwhelm any of them head-on, but it gave me an edge.

The trick would be using it at the right moment—when they least expected it.

The horn sounded, its deep note vibrating through my bones. Chaos erupted instantly. The candidates surged forward, a rush of desperation and violence all vying for the closest weapons. The sound of clashing steel and shouted spells exploded across the arena as the battle began.

I didn't move.

Instead, I slipped into the shadows, adrenaline flooding my system as I ducked behind a crumbling pillar.

The fog provided cover, but it also cut my visibility to almost nothing.

I crouched low, peeking around stone to watch the chaos unfold.

Every instinct screamed at me to act, to do something , but I forced myself to wait.

Patience. This wasn't about brute strength. This was about being smarter.

Around me, the frenzy played out violently.

Two candidates—a burly shifter with a war hammer and a wiry mage with crackling lightning at her fingertips—engaged in a vicious duel on a nearby platform.

The structure was precarious at best, its jagged edges crumbling under the weight of their movements.

It was elevated enough to matter, but unstable enough to kill.

My gaze flicked to the base of the platform. The stone looked brittle, like time and weather had done half my work for me. A plan began to form in my mind, one that would take them both out without anyone noticing my hand in it.

Closing my eyes briefly, I reached for my magic, drawing on the shadowy essence that had become as natural as breathing since my bond with Thalon had formed.

The Shadow Fire stirred within me, a dark, flickering force that hummed with deadly potential.

I focused on the brittle base of the platform, imagining shadows weaving through cracks like living things, prying them apart.

The fire obeyed. Tendrils of darkness slithered from my outstretched fingers, threading through stone like water through sand.

I kept my movements small, subtle, my gestures small enough to blend with the chaos.

The candidates were too focused on their fight to notice, their shouts and grunts masking the faint, ominous groaning of the platform weakening beneath them.

I watched as the shadows did their work, amplifying what nature had already started.

The mage lunged forward, her lightning arcing toward the shifter, who blocked it with a grunt and a swing of his hammer.

The impact sent shockwaves through the platform, and I held my breath as it began to give way.

With a crack like thunder, the base of the platform crumbled, the weakened stone collapsing into the hungry void below.

Both candidates let out sharp cries of shock as they lost their footing, tumbling into the darkness.

The shifter's hammer clattered uselessly against the edge before disappearing.

The mage's lightning flickered and died as she fell, her scream cut short by teleportation magic.

A moment later, a faint shimmer signaled their removal from the arena. The pits weren't merciless—they'd survived. But they wouldn't be advancing.

Two down.

Copper flooded my mouth as I bit down on my tongue to keep from celebrating too loudly. The crunch of gravel behind me made me whip around, ice flooding my veins. Two candidates had split from the chaos and were now heading straight for me.

One was a towering brute—a werewolf shifter with muscles that looked like they could crush stone.

His shaggy hair and feral snarl made him look more beast than man.

The other was leaner, more calculated. A sniper, his enchanted bow glowing with runic power, his quiver stocked with arrows that shimmered with deadly intent.

Cold dread coiled in my gut. This wasn't just bad luck—this was very bad luck. One-on-one, I might've had a chance to outwit them. But two skilled opponents? My options narrowed with every second as they closed in on my position.

The brute growled low in his throat, his eyes locking onto mine with predatory hunger. "There's no point hiding, little mouse," he rumbled, his voice a mocking taunt.

The sniper, standing several paces behind, nocked an arrow with deliberate precision. His calm was somehow more terrifying than the brute's rage. "Stand down," he warned, his voice cold. "Make it easier on yourself."

Yeah, sure, because surrendering always worked out so well.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my mind racing through possibilities. I needed to use what I had.

But what I had wasn't much—my magic was still unpredictable, and my physical strength was laughable compared to the brute. But I did have one thing on my side: the element of surprise.

The brute lunged first, his massive frame barreling toward me. Without a second thought, I summoned my magic and activated the Invisibility Shroud. Shadows rippled over my skin, swallowing me whole.

"Where the hell—?" the brute growled, skidding to a stop as I vanished from sight. His momentum sent him stumbling forward, right into the sniper's line of fire.

"Move, you idiot!" the sniper snapped, but it was too late. The enchanted arrow he'd released mid-charge slammed into the brute's shoulder, the impact throwing him off balance. The brute roared, rounding on the sniper with murder in his eyes.

"You shot me!"

"Maybe if you weren't so damn reckless—"

Their argument devolved into snarls and curses, and I took advantage of their distraction.

Keeping silent, I crept along the edge of the arena, scanning for anything I could use to tip the scales further.

My gaze landed on a precariously balanced boulder perched atop a ledge a few feet above the brute.

Perfect.

Still cloaked in invisibility, I climbed the crumbling stone wall leading to the ledge. My hands scraped against rough surface, but I ignored the sting. The brute and sniper were still at each other's throats, their voices carrying over the din of the battlefield.

Reaching the top, I crouched low and pressed my palms against the boulder. It was heavier than expected, but the bond with Thalon coursed through me, lending me a surge of strength I didn't know I possessed. With a grunt of effort, I shoved the boulder forward.

It teetered for a heart-stopping moment before gravity took over.

The brute had just turned back toward the fight when the boulder crashed down, slamming into him with a sickening thud. He let out a strangled cry before collapsing, his massive frame pinned beneath the weight of stone.

The sniper spun toward the sound, his expression shifting from shock to pure fury. "You're going to pay for that," he hissed.

I dropped the shroud, stepping out of shadows as his eyes locked onto me. "You'll have to catch me first," I shot back, my pulse hammering.

He moved fast—faster than I expected. In one fluid motion, he nocked another arrow and drew the bowstring taut. The runes flared brighter, the air around the arrow shimmering with raw magic. I barely had time to react.

Reaching deep, I summoned the Shadow Fire, feeling its heat coil in my core before releasing it in a controlled burst. The dark flames licked at bow and arrows, igniting them in an instant.

The sniper cursed, dropping the weapon as flames consumed it. His quiver caught fire next, the enchanted arrows crumbling to ash. Weaponless, he turned on me, his eyes blazing.

"Big mistake," he snarled, charging with surprising speed.

I braced myself for a fight, my body coiled and ready to dodge, when a blur of motion intercepted him. Another candidate smashed the sniper over the head. The sniper crumpled, unconscious before he hit the dirt.

My gaze darted to the new arrival—a petite woman standing amidst the chaos, her lavender braid swaying as she adjusted her stance.

Amber eyes glowed faintly, locking onto mine with an intensity that spoke of both confidence and calculation.

Vines tattooed her arms, crawling like ivy over her tawny skin, and I could feel the faint hum of magic radiating from her—earthy and alive.

She raised her hands, palms out, in a gesture of peace. "Hold your fire, Whittaker. Truce?" Her voice was low, urgent. "Lunessa. We either work together or we both lose."

I frowned, still crouched low, my hands itching to summon Shadow Fire if this turned out to be some elaborate trap. "You've got about ten seconds to explain why I shouldn't assume you're just another threat."

The woman tilted her head, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, I'd say I'm definitely a threat," she replied dryly. "Just not to you. Not unless you give me a reason to be."

"Not helping."

"Fair enough." She took a cautious step closer, her hands still raised.

"Look, I just saved your ass, in case you didn't notice.

And unless you've got a death wish, you and I both know we don't stand a chance solo against what's left out there.

Temporary truce? We team up, take down the heavy hitters, and then…

well, we'll see what happens after that. "

Recognition flickered through me—the woman from dinner the other evening, the one who'd quietly slipped me an extra dessert. She hadn't been aggressive then either, just watchful, calculating. If anything, she'd seemed almost... kind.

I exhaled sharply, the tension in my shoulders loosening just a fraction. "Fine," I said, rising to my feet. "But if you try anything—"

"Relax," she interrupted, grinning. "I'm better with vines than daggers."

Lunessa nodded, her amber eyes already scanning the battlefield, searching for our next target. "We've got this." A sudden roar cut her off. The arena's magical wards flickered violently. Whatever was left standing, it wasn't human.