Raea Tierson: You’re insufferable.
“While the Lumos Bond undoubtedly holds strength, there’s some folklore out there suggesting an even deeper Bond that exists on an entirely different plane.” She pauses her pacing to lean against the table and take a moment to look around the room. When she speaks again, her voice is filled with awe and admiration: “It’s said that when this mating Bond snapped into place, it knitted their hearts, their souls, and their minds together. These documents also state that if your mate were sick or hurt, you’d be able to feel it and know exactly what they needed.
“One such ancient text claims that once the Bond is established after passing some sort of test, a different magical marking would appear, becoming a permanent fixture along their spine, symbolizing a union with eternity in mind, binding them not just for this life, but in every life to follow.”
My body hums with energy as a cold sweat coats my skin. With a shaky hand, I lift my tablet again, scanning the folder frantically, looking for anything to help us while ignoring the idea of a deeper Bond.
Because that’s what we need.
She continues to talk, discussing the differences between the Bonds, but my erratic heartbeat fills my head with a whooshing noise, drowning out the world around me. As much as I’d love to deny its existence, what if she’s right?
What if there is a deeper Bond?
And if so, why don’t we see them anymore?
fifteen
. . .
Aolyn and Kamdenwere practically vibrating with excitement after our Bonding Class last night. Their enthusiastic pleas to join them for today’s much-anticipated AerBall game against Wildwood, one of Ateria’s academies, had me reluctantly agreeing.
I had mentally scrambled for an excuse to get out of it first thing this morning, but Tate and Ciara, who know me all too well, quickly caught on. They declared they would literally drag me to the game, even if it meant hauling me over Tate’s shoulder, kicking and screaming.
So here I am, Aolyn and I both dressed in school colors: hues of vibrant blues and gold, and little ‘D’s stamped on our cheeks. As we find our seats among the chaotic crowd already chanting our team’s name and waving signs, I admit to Kamden that I don’t know much about the game. My father has tried for years to get me into AerBall, but the brutality of it has always made me a little queasy; this game is not for the faint of heart.
Kamden practically gleams as he leans over. “The rules are simple,” he begins. “The team with the most goals wins, and scoring with the AerBall earns you five points.”
I recall the small AerBall my father has stored in his personal studyin the palace, signed by one of his favorite pro players. The AerBall is small, no bigger than a man’s palm, and the soft outer layer conceals a solid core.
“Oh, and don’t forget the groundball,” he continues enthusiastically. “That’s worth one point.” Aolyn nudges him playfully as she chimes in with her own insights about strategies for the game.
“The game is played over the course of an hour, divided into three twenty-minute periods,” she explains. “Each team is composed of eight players: one goalie, two defenders, a guardian, three attackers, and a spy.”
Tate raises his brows. “Which position is the safest? I’ve heard this game can be a little...” he glances toward the empty rings, “bloody.”
Kamden chuckles softly. He takes a moment to break down the various positions for us. “Let’s start with the goalie! That player needs to be both large and agile, as they are responsible for defending not only a goal open in the ground but also a net looming ten feet above them. Whoever plays this position needs to have quick reflexes and a dominating presence to fend off the attackers whose sole goal is to score points.”
Aolyn interjects again, “Now, as for the defenders, they have to be strong and fast. Their role is to stop the attackers. Here’s the kicker: the opposing team’s spy is constantly watching and calling out plays, exposing any weaknesses in their defense.” She grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “There’s even a chance that the spy can be captured for a brief span during each period. If that happens, they’ll find themselves suspended twenty feet above the water until the end of the period.” I notice Tate swallowing with a grimace, but Aolyn continues to elaborate.
“Meanwhile, the attackers...well, as the name suggests, they attack. They’re the offensive position, doing whatever they can to get the two balls into their goals. The guardian’s role is equally critical. They defend the bunker from their post on the island, though at any moment an opposing attacker could send them crashing into the water.” It becomes abundantly clear that there’s no “safe” position at all.
Ciara’s brows furrow, and she asks, “But wait, aren’t sticks involved?”
It’s Kamden who responds. “Yep, but only the center attacker and goalie have one.” He points to the field where the five rings are located. “At the center of the arena, there’s an island where the spy and the center attacker start the game. They will sprint to free our balls from the opposing team’s bunker, which starts off unguarded.” His devilish smile makes my lips pull up. “Once the horn sounds, it’s an all-out race against time to snatch them before the rival team can get to them. After freeing the balls, the spy takes on the role of scouting the field ahead.”
He continues to explain the point of the icy water surrounding the island, explicitly designed to shock the players’ systems, drastically slowing down their movements. Surrounding that water ring is another ring of land dotted with obstacles and traps to test the agility and strength of the attackers. Everything from rugged stone structures meant for climbing to muddy pits potentially hiding snares that require the attackers to carefully navigate, only to reach the fourth ring, which is also filled with water.
“The next stretch of water is home to bladefish,” he adds. “Their small bodies sting when you brush against them, but thankfully, the cuts are not lethal. However, that doesn’t make it any less daunting. The fifth and outermost ring is where the goals are positioned at either end of the arena. If we fail to score, the ball is unceremoniously tossed into a chute and sent back to the opposing team’s bunker, meaning one or two attackers must navigate their way back to the island. But, if we score, the ball returns to our bunker, where our guardian protects it until the attacker returns.”
Aolyn jumps in again, “If the ball is in the opposing team’s bunker, the attacker will have to fight the guardian to win their ball back. It slows them down and makes them tired. But, if we make the goal, the attackers are given a break and are allowed to scale the ladders and take the skywalk,” she points to the iron walkways over the rings, “back to the island. It rewards the attackers, allowing them to catchtheir breath instead of retracing their steps and returning to the bunker to start all over again.
“The AerBall itself is lightweight and propelled into the nets using the stick, which has its own net at the tip, designed to slingshot the ball upwards toward the goal. The groundball is the opposite. It’s heavier, measuring about fourteen inches across, and players need to get up close and personal to either shove or toss it into the goal located in the ground at the goalie’s feet.”
As their explanations end, I’m pulled back to the present, where spectators have filled the entire arena. I’ve been on this campus for half my life, and I’ve never been to a single game here. The thought makes me cringe slightly.
Memories of the first time I stepped foot in this arena two weeks ago, and seeing Anders in his gear, make my stomach flutter.
Our seats are located a few rows up from the team’s box. The spectators buzz with anticipation. The scent of sweet rolls and excitement floats on a breeze, and as the players make their way out of the locker rooms and into the box, the crowd goes ballistic.
