The courtyard still buzzed with the aftershock of Elira's duel. Children whispered in tight clusters, their voices low but urgent.
"What was that light?" a boy muttered.
"She didn't even chant," another whispered back.
"She's… different."
Elira herself stood apart, brushing dust from her tunic, her face flushed but calm. She avoided their eyes, pretending not to notice how they lingered on her longer than before.
From the balcony above, the mistress leaned on the wooden rail, a smile curling faintly at the edges of her lips. So the little bird has wings after all, she thought. And the others already feel it.
The man's voice cut through the chatter.
"Next! Brenn and Lyra—step forward."
Brenn stomped into the circle, short and stocky, fists already glowing faintly with embers that licked across his knuckles. His grin was wild, boyish, but edged with pride.
Lyra moved with the opposite energy—calm, steady. She pushed a strand of dark hair from her eyes, raising her hand where faint droplets of moisture coiled, shimmering in the late light.
The children fell quiet as the two faced each other.
"Begin."
Brenn lunged first, hurling a fireball that roared hotter than expected. Gasps rose—but Lyra merely stepped aside, her fingers flicking in a small arc. A whip of water snaked out, cutting the flame mid-air, scattering it into steam.
Brenn snarled and threw another, then another. The courtyard lit with fire as he pressed forward, his movements reckless, sparks bursting with every strike. Lyra didn't panic. Each time she countered with smooth, measured gestures: a sphere of water, a shield that sizzled, a spray that cut like knives.
Kairo and Igron watched from the back.
"She's reading him like a book," Igron murmured, smirking.
Kairo's crimson eyes narrowed faintly. He said nothing, but his gaze followed every motion, drinking in the rhythm of flame and water.
Finally, Lyra flicked both hands forward. A surge of water crashed against Brenn's chest, knocking him flat onto his back. His fire guttered out with a hiss.
The courtyard erupted into cheers and laughter. Brenn groaned, then laughed too, pushing himself up and rubbing his singed tunic.
"Fine, fine! You win this time."
Lyra only dipped her head, quiet as always.
From the balcony, the mistress's eyes lingered on her now too, but only for a moment. Elira remained her main focus.
"Next!" the man's voice rang.
The children straightened again, excitement crackling in the air.