“Move faster,” he says. “Or does rain scare you as much as mythological monsters?”
We hurry down the path, twenty-four first-years trying not to slip on wet volcanic stone. My training clothes—fitted black pants and tank top that were waiting in my wardrobe—are already soaked through, clinging to me in ways that make me very aware of every drop of rain trailing down my spine.
Kieran’s dark eyes track each of us as we move to stand in a clump in front of him, thunder rumbling overhead.
“Seven circles. Seven purposes.” He motions toward the circular arenas that line the mountain. “The one behind me is the Ember Ring. It amplifies weak magic, which is useful for first-years who can barely light a candle.”
The jab lands, but he’s not done.
“Above us,” he points to the second circle, maybe two hundred steps up, that has a steepled glass structure in it, “is the Smoke Spire. Inside you’ll find supernatural smoke that clings like honey. Your fire will behave differently there. Unpredictably.”
Felix leans forward, rain dripping from his nose, clearly finding this fascinating.
“The Mirror Vault.” Kieran’s hand moves higher, to the third circle, which has a reflective dome on it. “One fireball becomes two if it hits the walls. Then four. Then eight.”
“That’s exponential growth,” Sam mutters, and of course he’s doing math in his head during a downpour.
“The Void Pit.” Kieran’s tone drops, and he points to the fourth circle, halfway up the mountain. “It blocks all magic,leaving you with only steel, skill, and the will to survive. It’s my personal favorite.”
A shudder runs through me as I stare up at the skeletal black ring that dips like a deep, giant well into the volcanic ground.
“The Fury Loop,” Kieran indicates the fifth circle, “amplifies emotion-based casting. Whatever you’re feeling becomes a weapon or a weakness. Then the Siphon Sphere,” he points at the sixth circle, which is nearly lost in mist, “drains your magical reserves. The longer you fight, the weaker you become.”
He pauses, his eyes moving to the top of the volcano, where the smallest circle sits. “Finally, the Crown. Raw magical amplification with no safety features, no wards, and no mercy. Students are forbidden, and anyone caught inside it faces immediate expulsion—assuming they survive.”
“Has anyone ever…” Garrett starts.
“Died?” Kieran doesn’t blink. “Yes.”
The silence that follows is as heavy as the rain as I stare up at the seven massive circles, trying to imagine climbing all those rain-slick steps and fighting in each one.
After the Hydra trial, I can’t envision it ending in any other way than being beaten by my new classmates every single time.
“Now.” Kieran moves to an object covered by a tarp, pulls the cover away, and reveals rows of gleaming steel. “These are weapons chosen specifically for each of you, based on what I observed during the Hydra trial. You’ll keep these for the duration of your time at Blaze. Lose them, and you’ll fight bare-handed.”
He starts calling names, handing out daggers like some kind of twisted Christmas morning.
“Nina Aldridge.” He hands Nina a thin stiletto that seems to disappear in her grip. “Precision over power. You understand this already.”
Nina tests the weight, and satisfaction flickers across her face.
“Garrett Sinclair,” Kieran announces, and Garrett practically lunges for his weapon—an oversized ornate dagger with enough decorative etchings to be a museum piece. “Try not to stare at your reflection in it.”
Garrett doesn’t seem to catch the insult, too busy admiring the golden inlay.
“Vera Jackson,” Kieran says next, and the curved blade he hands Vera looks wicked. “You already know how to get close. This rewards it.”
Vera takes it as if it’s always belonged to her.
“Samuel Reeves,” he calls out. “Your mind freezes, but your hand shouldn’t slip.”
Sam accepts his dagger with shaking hands, and Kieran presses his lips together, clearly unimpressed.
“Evelyn Thorne.” Kieran’s eyes focus on Evie, and he pauses before handing her a dagger with an extended cross guard. “Each section of the blade heats differently. Learn how the fire moves through it, and one day, if your control’s good enough, you’ll be able to send that heat exactly where you want it.”
Evie’s eyes widen as she takes her weapon, smiling in satisfaction as she admires it from multiple angles.
“Felix Velasco,” Kieran calls next, and Felix receives a wavy-bladed dagger that catches the light even through the rain. “If you must see beauty in everything, at least this beauty cuts. Painfully.”
