The Arena crackled with residual heat. Charred scorch marks from past duels scarred the stone floor like battle tattoos. Rose stood at its center, shoulders squared, jaw tight.
Belladoma entered like a storm dressed in velvet—her cloak catching the wind, her eyes colder than the wind off a northern peak.
"You rely on instinct," she said, circling Rose slowly. "But instinct without control is chaos."
"Chaos is my control," Rose shot back, gripping her wand tight.
Belladoma flicked her wrist. A wall of fire rose in a circle around them, licking the air with hungry flames. "Then control this."
It wasn't just a test. It was a war of wills.
Rose sent ice lancing toward the fire. Belladoma turned it to steam with a flick. Sparks flew as spell met spell—flame against frost, light against shadow. Their magic clashed with a rhythm, not unlike a dance. Not elegant, but charged. Every spell was a heartbeat. Every counter, a breath drawn sharp.
Belladoma advanced, her magic wrapping like a cloak of smoke and fury. "You're holding back."
"No," Rose gritted out, summoning a storm surge from within. "I'm just getting started."
A crack of lightning arced from Rose's hand, shattering the ring of fire. For a moment, the air was still. Then the flames collapsed inward, snuffed out.
Belladoma blinked.
"I—" Rose panted. "—win?"
Belladoma gave a half-smile. Rare. Dangerous. "You surprised me."
Their eyes met in the dim light of the smoking arena. There was something unspoken between them—hotter than the flames, colder than the ice.
"Why teach me like this?" Rose asked.
"Because you need to know what power feels like," Belladoma said quietly. "And what it means to choose."
Then she was gone, cloak sweeping behind her like a shadow departing at dusk.
Nimbus fluttered down from the rafters. "Well. That was either a sparring match or a very intense date."
"I don't know," Rose murmured, heart racing. "Maybe both."