Page 49 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

Tess

The arena had descended into chaos. Flags changed hands every few seconds, alliances shattered like glass, and the metallic tang of blood mixed with the acrid smoke of overused magic. Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed—pain or rage, I couldn't tell.

I stood at the edge of a rocky outcropping, watching it all unfold below me.

My team was probably wondering where the hell I'd gone.

Part of me knew I should rejoin them, help them rack up points, play the game the way it was meant to be played.

I could check my score—see how badly I was losing—but the numbers felt meaningless now.

The whole thing. Points, ranking, proving myself through competition.

None of it mattered anymore. The warmth in my chest—that purifying fire that had healed me—still pulsed steady and sure.

It wasn't demanding anything from me. Wasn't pushing me toward victory or glory.

It just... existed. And for the first time since arriving at these trials, I knew exactly what I needed to do.

The next hour blurred together. A young fae trapped behind thorned vines that pulsed with dark magic—their team nowhere to be seen.

My fire dissolved the barrier like morning mist. They thanked me quickly and headed back toward the main arena, either to find their teammates or to quit entirely—I couldn't tell which.

A human mage pinned under a fallen boulder, his teammates having taken his flag and left him with a shattered leg.

The golden flames flowed through stone and bone alike, healing what others had deemed worthless.

He stared at his healed leg in wonder, then shook his head and walked away from the arena entirely, muttering about having enough of this madness.

Each rescue was different, each requiring something new from my fire—sometimes strength, sometimes healing, sometimes just the ability to see through illusions and find the truth. But it always responded. Always knew exactly what was needed.

Every applicant I helped made the same choice—they either returned to their teams or simply left the trials altogether. Some thanked me, others just nodded and walked away. None stayed. I wasn't collecting followers, and that was fine by me. I was just doing what felt right.

The arena was becoming more dangerous by the hour. Teams were getting desperate, and desperation made people do terrible things.

That's when I saw her.

Guilt twisted in my chest like a blade. This was my fault—I'd abandoned her earlier, left her vulnerable and struggling.

Not just during this trial, but over the last few days when she'd needed someone to stand by her.

The points she was losing, the position she was in now—all because I'd turned my back on her when it mattered.

Anya was backed against a cliff face, five werewolves circling her like sharks.

Blood streamed from a gash across her forehead, and her left arm hung at an unnatural angle.

Her dark eyes blazed with fury, but I could see the exhaustion in the set of her shoulders, the way she swayed on her feet.

They'd been wearing her down for far too long.

"Well, well," the largest one sneered, his claws extending with deliberate menace. "The little witch, all alone. Thought you could hide behind your dark magic and get away with it?" His voice dropped to a growl. "Freaks like you don't belong here. Time someone taught you that lesson."

Another wolf laughed, circling closer. "Maybe we'll take more than just your flag, witch. Maybe we'll take something that won't grow back."

My fire roared to life before I'd even made the conscious decision to intervene. The golden flames didn't just glow—they blazed, casting dancing shadows across the cliff face and turning the air itself into a weapon.

I didn't announce myself. Didn't shout a warning or demand they back off. I simply stepped between Anya and her attackers, my hands already glowing with golden flame.

"You want her?" I said quietly. "You go through me."

The lead werewolf's eyes widened as he took in my fire. "The human." His lips curled back in a snarl. "Perfect. We can settle two debts today."

He never finished the thought. My fire lashed out, not to burn but to bind.

Golden chains of light wrapped around all five wolves, holding them fast. They struggled, snarling and snapping, but the chains only tightened.

The magic felt different this time—stronger, more certain.

Protective in a way that made my chest tight with fierce emotion.

"You have ten seconds to leave," I said, my voice carrying a certainty that surprised even me. "Or I stop being nice."

They looked at my fire, at the absolute certainty in my voice. Smart wolves. They left.

I turned to Anya, who was staring at me like she'd never seen me before.

"Tess." Her voice was rough, confused. "What are you doing? Your team—"

"Can handle themselves." I moved closer, checking her for serious injuries.

The broken arm, several deep cuts, but nothing that wouldn't heal.

"Anya, I—" The words stuck in my throat, but I forced them out.

"I'm sorry. For being a complete ass to you.

For acting like I had to choose between being myself and helping my friends.

" I met her eyes, those dark depths that had become so familiar. "I was wrong."

Her expression softened, the guarded mask she always wore cracking open. "Tess—"

"I want to be here. With you. Helping people who need it instead of chasing points like some kind of—"

"I forgive you," she said simply, cutting off my rambling apology. "I understand why you did it."

Relief flooded through me, warm and overwhelming. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." She caught my wrist as I reached for her injured arm, but her grip was gentle. "But you should be with your team. You should be trying to win."

"Is that what you want? For me to leave you here and go chase points while you're bleeding?"

Something shifted in her expression. "No," she said quietly. "No, I don't."

"Then let me help." I placed my hands over her broken arm, letting my fire flow through me—but this time it felt different. Warmer. Healing instead of binding. Golden light seeped into her skin, and I watched in amazement as the bone knitted itself back together.

Anya's eyes went wide. "What is this? This isn't the same magic you had before."

"I don't know," I admitted, watching the cuts on her face close and fade. "It's new. Different."

She didn't hesitate. Didn't look back toward where her team was probably still fighting for flags and glory. She just nodded and fell into step beside me.

We helped one more injured applicant—a young vampire who'd been left for dead by his own team.

After I healed his wounds, he looked at the two of us for a long moment, then shook his head and walked away from the arena entirely.

"I'm done with this," he muttered. "There are better ways to prove yourself. "

Only Anya remained with me. The two of us moved through the ongoing combat like a quiet procession, no longer interested in flags or points or the games others played.

Around us, the final scramble continued—teams clashing over the last unclaimed flags, others defending their hoards with renewed ferocity. The arena had become a pressure cooker, everyone fighting until the very last second before the bell would sound.

We crested a final hill, and I could see the main arena below us. Dragons circled overhead, their massive forms casting shadows across the battlefield. In the stands, the Supe factions watched and waited, probably placing final bets on who would emerge victorious.

A flash of movement caught my eye—a lone applicant, bloodied and desperate, making one last grab for a flag that would push them into the qualifying ranks. They fought with everything they had, clawing their way toward a prize that might change their entire future.

For a moment, doubt crept in. What was I doing? What had I given up? That could be me down there, fighting for my place, proving I belonged—

But then the warmth in my chest pulsed again, steady and sure, and the chaotic noise of the arena faded to a distant hum.

My breathing slowed, deepened. The fire spread through my limbs like liquid gold, filling me with a certainty that had nothing to do with points or rankings or anyone else's approval.

"They're watching us," Anya murmured beside me.

She was right. I could feel the weight of their attention, the way conversations had stopped and heads had turned. Not toward the teams still fighting for flags, but toward our quiet procession.

"Let them watch," I said.

Anya moved up closer, her voice dropping to match mine. "You know this won't count for anything, right? Points, rankings, official recognition. We're not playing their game anymore."

"Good," I said. "Their game was rigged anyway."

She laughed—a real laugh, bright and surprised. "You know what? You're right."

A deep, resonant bell suddenly rang out across the arena, its tone cutting through all other sounds. Once. Twice. Three times.

The trial was over.

Around us, the remaining combatants froze mid-motion. Spells fizzled out. Weapons lowered. The sudden stillness after hours of chaos felt almost surreal.

The dragons above us called out, their voices echoing across the arena. Not the harsh cries of battle, but something else. Something that sounded almost like... approval?