The group of magic applicants gathered at the center of the sparring ground. The scorched terrain beneath their boots hinted at countless battles fought here before. Rows of stone benches rose around the perimeter, forming a makeshift gallery for those waiting their turn. The smell of dust and residual magic hung heavy in the air.
Professor Sera Halcorth strode to the front, her crimson robes swirling like tongues of fire. When she spoke, her voice cracked through the murmurs like a whip.
"The rules are simple. Each of you will demonstrate your ability in a controlled duel. You may choose between facing a summoned construct or a fellow applicant. Displays of strength are secondary to control and efficiency. If I see wild casting, panic, or recklessness…" Her amber eyes swept across the crowd, lingering on a trembling boy at the end of the line. "…you will fail."
"Injuries may happen. Death will not. I will make sure of that."
The silence was thick.
"Begin," she ordered.
One by one, students stepped forward. Some chose constructs—hulking forms of raw magic shaped like wolves, golems, or elemental beasts. Others picked rivals. The clashes were fierce, magic cracking like thunder, the air thick with heat and mana.
When Tamsin Roskey's name was called, she strolled forward with an exaggerated roll of her shoulders. "Alright, who's feeling lucky?" she announced, spinning on her heel to face the crowd. "Anyone brave enough to get roasted?"
A lanky boy with sweat beading on his brow shuffled forward. "I'll—uh—I'll take you on."
"Good choice." Tamsin grinned like a wolf. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"K-Kester."
"Well, Kester, I hope you wrote a will."
Snickers rippled through the audience.
The duel began. Kester raised his hands and muttered a shaky chant, a whip of water forming in the air. Tamsin cracked her knuckles and grinned. "Water, huh? Guess I'm the steam queen today."
She ignited both hands, flames bursting alive and painting her face in orange light. The two clashed—Kester's water whip lashing forward, steam exploding as Tamsin countered with a jet of flame. She danced through his attacks, fire curling around her like a living serpent.
"Is that all you've got?" she taunted, laughing as his whip fizzled to mist. "Come on! My grandma splashes harder than that!"
Finally, she snapped both hands forward. A roaring wave of fire surged like a beast and knocked Kester flat on his back, leaving his tunic smoking but intact.
Tamsin bowed with a flourish, spinning on her heel. "Thanks for the warm-up!"
Professor Halcorth's gaze was sharp but approving. "Roskey. Pass."
"Damn right," Tamsin muttered under her breath, strutting back to the benches. "Next?"
More duels followed until—
"Lilith Silford. Vivienne Halden. Step forward."
The murmur was instant—Silford and Halden, together. Whispers hissed like sparks:
"The Halden girl hates Silfords, doesn't she?"
"Her father lost half his land because of Duke Silford."
"This is going to be good…"
Lilith walked forward with calm grace. Vivienne Halden met her at the center, chin high, a sneer curling her lips. Her wavy ash-blonde hair shimmered like frozen silk, and her water-green eyes gleamed with challenge.
"Well," Vivienne purred. "What an honor. The little Duchess graces us common folk."
Lilith's lips curved in the faintest smile. "Vivienne."
"No need to pretend you remember my name," Vivienne said, her tone sharp. "I'll make sure you don't forget it after this."
Professor Halcorth raised a hand. "Begin."
Vivienne moved first—fast, sharp. A torrent of water erupted around her, spiraling into blades of liquid that slashed forward like living swords. The air cracked with their speed.
Lilith didn't flinch.
She stepped aside lightly, and whispered her mimicry chant—pointless words that looked authentic. Then she raised a single hand. Green wind spiraled from her palm, curling like ribbons, and met the water blades mid-air. The gust shattered them in a glittering spray.
Vivienne snarled and thrust both hands out, summoning a surging wall of water that crashed toward Lilith like a tidal wave.
Lilith moved like a dancer. She spun, skirt flaring, and with her outstretched hand unleashed a column of red flame—not too strong, just enough to slice through the wave. Steam hissed violently, rising in thick clouds.
The crowd gasped.
Lilith stepped through the steam like a ghost, closing the distance. Her next move was precise—a blade of wind, thin and green, sliced Vivienne's remaining water shield apart and stopped just shy of her throat. The pressure of it made Vivienne freeze.
Lilith's voice was calm, almost sweet. "Yield."
Vivienne's face burned crimson as her magic wavered in the air, droplets sliding down her trembling fingers. For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Yield? Yield to her? To a Silford?
Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding. Then, with a sharp breath, Vivienne's eyes flared and she whipped her hand forward, summoning a spear of water with a snarl.
The attack shot toward Lilith's chest.
But Lilith moved like a whisper. Her body twisted with effortless grace, the spear grazing past as she spun aside, skirts flaring. A sharp hiss of displaced air followed the dodge, and when she stilled, her emerald eyes were ice-cold.
Before Vivienne could summon another spell, a voice cracked through the arena like thunder.
"Enough!"
Professor Sera Halcorth strode forward, her presence a wall of heat. Her mane of fire-like hair seemed to blaze brighter under the sun as molten-gold eyes fixed on Vivienne with scorching fury.
"You dare," Sera's tone was molten steel, "strike after conceding? That blade at your throat was a kill shot, Lady Halden. The duel was hers." She took a single step closer, and Vivienne shrank despite herself. "You will remember this lesson. In a real battle, hesitation means death. Defiance means nothing."
Vivienne swallowed hard, fists trembling as her magic fizzled out like steam in the cold. Her voice caught in her throat, the taste of humiliation bitter as ash.
Sera's gaze lingered a moment longer—sharp enough to flay—before turning to Lilith. "Silford. The match is yours."
Lilith inclined her head in a graceful nod, though her eyes never left Vivienne's. The air between them was taut as a drawn bowstring, thick with unspoken venom.
As Lilith walked away, Vivienne stood rigid, the echo of her failure burning hotter than any wound.
Lilith returned to the benches with her usual composure, though she could feel dozens of eyes trailing after her. Some were filled with awe. Others with resentment. None of it mattered.
Tamsin greeted her with a grin that was far too wide. "Well, well, Duchess. That was… devastating. I almost feel bad for her."
"Almost?" Lilith replied, arching a brow.
"Almost," Tamsin confirmed cheerfully. "But she asked for it, didn't she? Gods, did you see her face? I think you broke her ego harder than you broke that water shield."
Lilith allowed herself a faint smile as she sat down. "She'll recover."
"Sure," Tamsin said, leaning back on her elbows. "Maybe in a few decades."
Across the field, Vivienne was seething, arms crossed so tightly her nails dug into her sleeves. A couple of students tried to console her, but she shoved them off, her glare fixed on Lilith like a blade. That look promised this wasn't over.
"Uh-oh," Tamsin murmured, following the direction of her gaze. "You've made an enemy for life."
"I didn't make her an enemy," Lilith said quietly. "She chose that herself."
Tamsin whistled low. "Spoken like a true noble."
Before Lilith could respond, Professor Halcorth called for the next pair, and the duels continued. The crackle of magic and bursts of light filled the field as more students took their turns.
By the time the final match ended, the sun was already sliding toward the horizon, staining the walls in warm orange. Professor Halcorth dismissed the spellcasters with a curt nod, then gestured toward the far side of the grounds, where another group was gathering.
"That's our cue," Tamsin said, hopping up and stretching like a cat. "Time to watch the boys beat each other with sharp sticks."
Lilith rose and followed her, her eyes finding Elias across the training grounds. He was standing in front of a boy with a wicked grin as they exchanged blows.