The dueling dome was a bowl of held breaths and polished stone. Candles drifted along wires high above, their flames haloed by wards that hissed faintly in the cool air, the scent of melted wax mingled with the metallic tang that clung to places where the Aether had been called loudest.
The students, their faces bright with anticipation, filled the tiers in a rough, shifting manner. Their hands cupped over mouths, clutching betting slips folded like secret promises. Tutors and staff lined the front rails, their eyes fixed on the measuring machines. This was the kind of theatre that taught a young mage how to hold a posture and people how to carve reputations.
The atmosphere crackled with anticipation. This was the third trial, the ultimate test of strength and skill, a brutal series of duels where friendships could fracture and legacies could be forged.
Students stepped into the spotlight one by one, their breaths visible in the tense air, each seeking to prove their worth to a panel of scrutinizing instructors and a roaring crowd. The stands were packed with spectators, all eager to witness the grandeur of power unleashed.
Fire clashed with ice, lightning danced with stone, and the combatants moved with the precision of trained assassins, each duel more intense than the last. The din of cheers and gasps echoed throughout the arena, punctuated by the somber weight of ambition and rivalry.
When the Royal Prince, Lucien of Aramont, stepped onto the stage, the arena erupted into a wave of vibrant applause. His presence commanded the attention of everyone, the golden threads of his attire glimmering as if touched by the sun itself. Every eye was on him, eagerly awaiting the spectacle.
As the duel unfolded, Aurelia stood at the edge of the crowd, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The arena buzzed with palpable energy, and all eyes were fixed on the combatants.
Lucien's first opponent, a fierce noble renowned for his mastery of earth magic, seemed to radiate confidence, perhaps even arrogance, as he took a commanding stance even in front of the Royal prince. Aurelia narrowed her eyes, studying the noble's posture and movements.
This overconfidence often led to downfall, especially in a duel of this magnitude. Do people underestimate the light of the kingdom?
The two combatants exchanged bows, a traditional gesture that signified respect. Yet beneath that veneer, Aurelia sensed a brewing storm. The earth beneath her feet trembled, responding to the sorcerer's invocation. Columns of stone erupted from the ground, spiraling upward in an attempt to ensnare Lucien in a treacherous embrace of rock and debris.
Stone versus light. The very essence of their powers. I wonder how Lucien will respond.
Just as the first jagged piece of stone lunged toward him, Lucien's movements were a blur. He sidestepped with a fluid grace, his form a striking contrast to the rigidity of the rocky constructs.
He's quick, Aurelia noted, her heart swelling with expectancy. But will it be enough? The strikes designed to imprison him shattered against his nimble evasion, each one a testament to his skill and agility.
Then, with a purposeful intensity, Lucien summoned radiant energy, channeling it with a power that sent ripples of anticipation through the crowd as he conjured a spear of blinding light, the air shimmering around him.
With a flick of his wrist, the luminous projectile was launched, cutting through the arena's gloom like a comet. It struck true, piercing the noble's defensive magic and obliterating the stone as if it were mere glass.
The sheer force of the impact sent shockwaves throughout the arena, an audible gasp emerging from the spectators. The opposing noble was thrown back, and Aurelia could see the flicker of disbelief in his eyes, the cracks beginning to show in his confident façade.
None can withstand such power lightly. He's a beacon of strength, even against Earth's might.
The crowd roared, reveling in the Prince's triumph. He raised his arm in a victorious gesture, the light enveloping him like a halo, casting away the shadows of doubt. "May we all serve the kingdom well," he declared, his voice ringing clear and confident like a clarion call.
As the crowd continued to cheer for the Royal Prince, a spark ignited in Aurelia, a fierce determination to rise to the occasion. She refused to let his glory overshadow her own potential. The arena wasn't just a stage, it was a battlefield where she would carve her destiny, matched against the likes of the illustrious Lucien.
Aurelia came to the preparation corridor beside the arena, palms flat against the cool stone as if steadying her whole body by pressure alone. Her robe was adjusted, every fold practiced; her family crest shone like a calm challenge. She felt the hush of the crowd as something pressed against the skin, an audience that expected something and would tally the absence of it. But she stood firm, her determination radiating from her every pore.
Breathe steady. Temper with caution. Show them that a Caelistra does not stumble on lit stages.
Across the ring, Kael Arden waited, the commoner from the lower district, his name finally revealed. Plain robes, slate at his hip, a look that suggested he had no narration to flaunt. He moved with the efficiency of someone accustomed to making a minimal budget feed a large purpose. His calm demeanor in the face of an arena that loved flourish was a testament to his confidence and control.
How convenient, he's my opponent, and now it's time to humble him in front of everyone.
Aurelia stepped forward, fire already curling around her hands like living serpents. She glared at him, determination etched into every feature. "I'll end this quickly," she proclaimed, her voice laced with confidence and a hint of disdain.
Kael, however, said nothing. He simply raised his hand, calm and steady, his expression inscrutable.
When the announcer called their names, the dome's murmur folded into a tighter sound. Students leaned forward as if gravity might tip with the first move. The referee traced the center rune in chalk and raised a hand. "Begin."
Aurelia answered the instant the word hit the air. She opened with motion. From her palms leapt a broad arc of flame, a ribbon of orange and gold that unfurled like a banner and swept the arena. The heat rolled forward with it, bright and hungry, meant to force a guard and make the crowd lean in toward the burn.
Kael did not answer with equal blaze. He moved with a slow thrift, as if each motion cost something and therefore must be wise. He cupped the air and sent a thin current skimming the floor, it slid beneath her column of fire like a hand under a cloak and nudged the warmth aside, making the great arc sag as if someone had pulled at its hem. The flame lost its proud posture and fell, a river diverted into a calmer channel.
He redirected it. A trick of placement.
She launched again, this time a rain of fire-darts, each a concentrated point meant to cut through a gap and punish any slip. The darts stabbed toward him like bright, angry moths.
He did not try to catch them all. He carved a narrow loop of water that rose no higher than a man's calf, a pale hoop that rolled along the floor. The darts clattered into its rim and flared into steam. From that softened mist, he sent a thin, cold blade of water that cut clean and hard through the haze. It was not a wall so much as a whispering blade, precise enough to find seams in the steam and the small spaces between her movements.
Aurelia answered with a broad web of fire meant to snare, strings of heat that would tangle anything that tried to pass. Her fingers braided the air into hands that would catch and hold. She trusted the weave, she had built this pattern a thousand times. It should have been plenty.
Kael's face did not shift. He pressed his focus to a single point in the air where her web's threads met and gave a short, sharp pulse, a pinched shock that flicked through the strands and loosened a single knot. The snaring hand opened like a glove whose finger had been slipped, a small surge ran down one of her threads, and her grip hiccupped. That tiny falter was all the world needed.
Mist and steam spiraled upward as boiling water met the crackling flames, filling the air with a cacophony of hisses and clashes that briefly drowned out the audience's excitement. In this swirling chaos, both combatants were veiled from one another, lost in the swirling fog of their elements.
Aurelia cursed under her breath. The realization struck her that she couldn't locate Kael, but the opposite was true as well. She weighed her options in a heartbeat, pondering whether to disperse the thick mist that obscured their battlefield or to erect a sturdy barrier to protect herself when visibility returned.
Suddenly, a sharp, glistening blade of water cut through the haze, barely missing Aurelia as she instinctively sidestepped.
He's positioned over there!
With a fierce determination, she unleashed a relentless barrage of fireballs aimed squarely at the spot from which the water had originated, determined to dissipate the mist surrounding her. As the flames roared to life and the fog began to clear, her heart sank. She found herself alone, the only target left in the fray.
But from the shadows of the clearing mist, Kael emerged, his hands weaving gracefully through the air where he summoned a swirling wall of water. Yet, his intentions were not purely defensive, he sculpted the water into an array of icy shards, each one glimmering with lethal intent as they shot toward Aurelia like deadly projectiles.
Caught off guard, a moment of disbelief washed over Aurelia as she quickly raised her hands, channeling her energy to conjure a shield of stone. The icy shards collided against her makeshift wall with a series of resounding cracks, the frigid impact reverberating through her defenses as the heat of her earth clashed against Kael's chill.
That blade was merely a diversion, but somehow I managed to block the assault.
Steeling her resolve and shaking off the fatigue biting at her edges, Aurelia intensified the flames swirling around her body. With a fierce shout, she channeled her energy into a blazing explosion, envisioning it engulfing everything in its vicinity.
Kael, his brow furrowing with concentration, countered with a spell that tapped into the primal essence of his watery domain. A massive wave surged from his fingertips, rising high and crashing down with the force of a tsunami, colliding with Aurelia's expanding fireball.
The blending tempest of steam, fire, and water sent shockwaves rippling through the arena, thick clouds of vapor enveloping them as the two elemental forces fought for supremacy.
Despite the ferocity of her flames, Aurelia could feel her strength waning, her energy flickering like a dying ember. "Stand still and lose!" she shouted in exasperation, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice as her control faltered amidst her reckless spellcasting.
In stark contrast, Kael remained calm, his focus steady and unyielding. He awaited the slightest crack in her defenses, watching intently as fatigue overtook her moments of desperation. Seizing that fleeting opportunity, he unleashed his finishing spell, conjuring a razor-thin arc of water that shimmered like a blade in the humid air.
The arc sliced cleanly through the steam, hurtling straight toward Aurelia with deadly precision. In an instant, her vibrant flames were extinguished, overwhelmed by the cutting torrent that struck her forcefully, sending her sprawling across the arena floor.
Why am I on the ground?
What just happened?
Silence fell like a heavy cloak. The crowd gasped, the tension electric in the air. Noble faces shifted, some in surprise, others in the cold irritation of wounded assumption. Aurelia felt the heat of shame as a physical sensation, a bright flush under her ribs.
Why am I looking up at him...When I should be looking down at him...
Aurelia stared, breathless, her pride and disbelief bleeding out onto the stage. "N-no... you... You cheated!" Her voice trembled with indignation.
Kael paused, then lifted his chin a fraction. "I did not." His voice was flat and clean, refusing the bait of performance.
Archmage Veyron's staff hit the floor with a sound that closed the moment like a lid. "Halt," he commanded. His presence moved between them, a careful shadow.
Tutors stepped forward, hands already forming the small gestures that summoned the Academy's instruments of proof. Fingers traced faint sigils in the dust, tiny crystal needles glimmered into being, keen as listening moths.
Aurelia's words tumbled, a rush of explanation and accusation, the feeling of hands on her work, seams touched where none should be, a rhythm she had set that someone else had broken. Her voice shook even as anger tried to steady it. People listened attentively, the way crowds do when a story unfolds.
The instructors worked quickly, their tools humming. Malrec's brow furrowed as he swept a detector over the spot where the water had met the flame. He glanced up, muttering calculations into his slate, and then met Veyron's gaze.
"There's no sign of outside interference," Malrec said. "No planted sigils. No foreign binding. The currents are local, wielded in the moment. The movement is simple, economical, but wholly native to the arena itself."
A low murmur spread, curiosity, then a rising current of disbelief. "A commoner," someone whispered, as if the word itself were the likely explanation for trickery. Another voice climbed with an edge of outrage, "There must be deception."
Veyron's reply was steady as a tolling bell. "The instruments show no deceit. The match followed the rules. Reviews will follow, as always, but for now the record stands."
Aurelia's knees felt hollow, pride had been cleaved away by a practical hand. She forced herself to remain standing, though the world felt oddly uneven, as if the arena itself had been turned a degree on its axis.
Oh damn it...
Kael bowed once, not to the crowd but as a small courtesy to the ritual they'd both been drawn into, and stepped from the ring with the quiet of someone resolving an equation simply because it needed solving. There was no flourish in his exit, no victory pose. He walked as if the work was done and the book should be closed.
The crowd's noise, questions, arguments, and the rustle of invested people arranging their narratives rose behind him. A girl, new to the world and hungry for the brightness of all sorts, made a sharp sound of surprise and then flared into a thousand sympathetic expressions.
Some nobles sputtered indignation on principle, as if class-bound protocol itself had been affronted by skill. The rumor-threads unspooled already: commoner prodigy, noble humbled, scandal in the school air. The shape of the story began to gather details before the facts had time to cool.
Later, when the candles had been banked and the last of the students drifted from the yard, Kael found a bench near a tree and set his slate upon his knees. The victory felt less like triumph than like an answer to a problem he'd been given.
When you win something people didn't expect you to, very few voices come that are uncomplicated.
I answered what was asked of me. Skill without theatre. If people call that theft, they will tell their story and live by it.
Kael had won, yet every glance at Aurelia during the fight painted her in shades of disappointment and pain. Her expression, a rough mix of disbelief and sadness, stirred in his gut like stones.
What have I done?
Instead of basking in glory, he felt the sharp sting of guilt prick at his conscience. He had played the game, strategized, and ultimately triumphed, but her hurt was a shadow that loomed over him.
Was this worth it?
Each triumphant shout from others faded into a dull roar, overshadowed by the very real consequence of his actions. He had pushed too far, and as he met her eyes, it became painfully apparent that no amount of victory could justify the cost he had incurred.
The sorrow eclipsed the joy of winning reflected in her gaze.
I never wanted it to be like this…
A tear dropped on the slate, blurring the smooth surface momentarily. It mingled with the remnants of his earlier efforts, a reminder that emotions could tarnish even the most polished façade.
As he watched the droplet spread, he felt a heavy realization that no amount of success could erase the pain of his past decisions.
I never knew that this would hurt her...
In the end, the emptiness of the win gripped him more fiercely than any opponent ever could. His heart ached with the realization that he had lost a part of himself that he could never regain.
The Academy slept around them, old stones holding secrets in their mortar. Inside those stones, threads of reputation had already begun to tangle, and two lives that had crossed in a bright, brief collision would wake to its echo.
Back in the dormitory corridor, beds unassigned until tomorrow, students drifted in low clusters, the whisper of gossip like a persistent wind. Aurelia sat on the edge of an empty bench, limbs too heavy for posture, a tapestry of pride and shame folding her inward. The pride that had been so easy at the obelisk now felt like a garment soaked through.
They will talk. They will write me into a story that is no longer mine. One that I have no say in.
How can I return to my family like this? No, not just my family, but to the world.
She pressed her palms to the bench to anchor herself and let the slow weave of breath reorder her limbs. Pride, skill, and advantages were all polity as much as physics. She felt the weight, the stirrings of something that might become change under steady hands.
A tear dropped, tracing a path down her cheek, mingling with the quiet intensity of the moment. It felt both heavy and liberating, a release of the tension she had held so tightly.
Around them, the Academy breathed on, the slow wheels of measurement turning, tutors filing notes, the headmaster making his entries with the careful indifference of someone who must tend both garden and blade. Tonight's dome had taught two things, novelty could be sudden and blinding, and precision could win where flame and fanfare failed.
Two people who had traded at the exact moment took their different turns to think. One would sleep with a book forming in his head, the other would sleep with a blank page she would have to write back across. Both of them would wake to the same rumor by morning.