The Academy Square: The cold still hanged between the pillars, fog drifted over the cobbled paths. The first students flocked to the arenas, their steps hurried, their voices tense. It was the day of the first rank battles.
Corin pulled up the collar of his cloak. The air was chilling, his shoulders aching from the previous day's training. Riven had demanded more of him than he wanted to admit.
Cearen was already waiting outside the arena gate. His hood pulled loosely over his forehead, the wood of a breakfast skewer in the corner of his mouth.
"Early enough?" he asked, chewing.
Corin nodded. "Too early."
"Serena's already at the control center. We shouldn't keep her waiting."
The way there led them past several groups who were trying to fight for the best seeds, including some who noticed Corin and Cearen too late and hastily fell silent. His match against Aldric had made an impression and Cearen needed no introduction.
The first week of the tournament had begun, with chaos that even had the disciplinary committee in stitches. Dozens of matches a day, spectators, supervisors, complaints. Corin had hardly slept, hardly eaten. And yet he was alert, as always.
He stood at the edge of the large arena, his gaze fixed on the duel before him. Two students from the lower ranks. Nothing special, but tactically interesting. Even more interesting: a name on the list for the afternoon.
'Caspian Vermille vs. Florence Everhart.'
Two members of the disciplinary committee supervised the tournament matches per shift, today it was Cearen and Corin. Their task was clear: to ensure order, report irregularities and intervene in emergencies. It was the first real day of the blood tournament, and things were starting to get serious.
"Boring shift so far," said Cearen, pushing her dark hair out of her forehead. "But the last match could be interesting."
Corin flicked through the log. "Florence Everhart, rank 2."
"Rare to see, but worth watching every time." Cearen grinned slightly. "She's dangerous... in that elegant way where you only realize it when you're already losing."
"Rank 2..." he murmured softly.
Cearen stepped up next to him. "She's... special."
"Do you know her?"
"In passing. We know each other. High rankers will always notice each other, even if only just. She was the favorite last year. She almost won." Cearen leaned against the railing, arms crossed loosely. "They say she never lost, except....."
Cearen fell silent as the announcement came at the start. "Except?"
"Against me, of course" Ceaen couldn't help but smile a little.
Corin remembered her. She was the white haired girl who watched Cearens match.
'Was that why she seemd so interested?'
"Who is she up against?"
"Caspian. Should be in the top 50. Strong, but I won't give him two minutes. Unlucky draw for him."
Florence entered the arena, quietly, almost calmly, in light-colored, finely tailored clothing. No showmanship. No exaggerated aura. But everything about her seemed... clean, well thought out. Like everything had a purpose.
Caspian seemed ready. Until the fight began. And ended.
Corin frowned slightly. "...Two minutes."
"That's what i said."
Corin said nothing more, noting the result as Florence turned to leave. The spectators murmured, some clapped, but it wasn't wild cheering. More like a moment of collective pause.
There were not any casualties for the rest of the day. The last match of the day was over as quickly as it had begun. Corin just had to bring back the daily report. He was just making his way towards the exit when he noticed her.
Florence was standing to the side behind a pillar, where the shadow of the stand fell on the marble. Her blue eyes searched his gaze for a moment, then she stepped closer with a small, almost playful smile.
"You were Corin, weren't you?"
He remained standing. "Yes."
"I missed to mention it last time, but I saw your fight against Aldric." She stepped a little closer. The voice was soft, slightly curious. "Not many would have stayed as calm as you did."
"Thank you," he replied quietly. "Was... less calm than it looked."
She laughed softly. "I think that's true for many."
A moment of silence, a bit awkward. She regarded him with a look that seemed friendly, but deeper than was usual for a first conversation. Almost... groping.
"I just wanted to say hello. I figured it certainly won't be the last time we see each other."
Then, a little wink, "Rank battles have a knack for crossing the paths of interesting people."
Corin inclined his head. "I'll see you around."
"I'm sure I will." She smiled once more, warmly, openly and then slowly disappeared between the arcades of the exit.
He wasn't watching her. But something about the conversation stuck in his mind.
Maybe it was her voice. Maybe the look. Or just that strange feeling you sometimes get, when someone looks for too long without it becoming uncomfortable.
'Well lets try to use my freetime wisely.'
Corin sat at the edge of the high reading tables in Hall IV, the smaller library wing of the Academy. The afternoon sun filtered through the narrow windows and painted patterns of light and dust on the old wood. Dozens of books lay between him and the surrounding students, open, marked, stacked.
Death Zone Studies, a subject that many avoided, out of fear or ignorance. And yet every professor seemed to refer to it in some subordinate clause.
Corin made a note of each of these statements. Always with a little arrow, a question mark, a cross.
He only had a few free hours a week. And they would become scarcer, the blood tournament, his tasks for the committee, Viviana's plans. But something inside him said that this issue was important. Too important to ignore. However, he had already missed the first few lessons. He had things to catch up on.
He turned a page and found a new heading:
Boundary reactions in the deep zone - classification & survival rates
His gaze lingered on a diagram: a map, roughly drawn, with markings indicating where expeditions had disappeared or returned completely "altered". The word changed was handwritten in red ink.
He reached for his own notebook.
"No conventional Blessing power. No light. No influence on the environment possible. No return from the depths."
He paused.
Perhaps it was a mistake, perhaps an exaggeration, but if it was true, then the zone was not simply dangerous. It was a black hole for anything in terms of Blessings.
And yet some families, some factions, seemed to be quite interested. A soft rustling behind him. An older student took a book from the shelf and gave him a cursory nod before moving away. No one disturbed him. No one asked.
Corin lowered his eyes back to the old paper.
'Probably need somebody to teach me.'
The closer you get to the source, the more you lose yourself.
He tapped his pen against the line. Then he underlined it, slowly, twice.
And in his heart, Corin was certain:
Sooner or later he would be standing there himself. On the border of the zone.