No props. No barriers. Of course. Why would they need anything else? Not when the weapons here are magic.
Magic, I haven’t trained, haven’t tamed. Magic that’s currently crawling its way up my spine and into my jaw, setting my whole body on edge.
God, I need to know what Talen’s plan is, so holding my breath, trying to steady myself, I risk a glance down towards him. Relief hits hard when I see his gaze is finally off me.
Instead, he’s leaning back against a large chalkboard at the back of the platform, lazy as sin, hypnotically flicking that same gold talisman I saw in the courtyard between his fingers, crooked grin locked in place as he watches Quinn flail, trying to get control of the class.
“Last year, you all had the chance to hone your Threads against the same Realm—” Quinn continues, voice strained, louder this time, but still it doesn’t make a difference, the room continues to ignore him.
Behind him, Talen shifts. The grin is gone now, replaced by something closer to boredom. Pushing off the chalkboard and slipping the talisman into his pocket, he strolls toward the centre of the platform like he owns it. Then he leans in to Quinn, mid-sentence, and mutters something low in his ear. Quinn stops talking and steps aside, not that anyone seems to notice. I doubt they even realise he was speaking in the first place.
The room’s still alive with low voices—half-whispers, half-laughs—as Talen steps into the centre of the platform. His gaze sweeps the crowd as he lifts one hand, palm up.
For a second he holds it there, fingers loose like he’s waiting for something, letting the noise stretch just a heartbeat longer. Then, without warning, his fingers snap shut.
And the noise stops. Just—stops.
Silence crashes down, absolute and unnatural. The only thing I can hear is my heartbeat, currently hammering way too fucking hard in my ears. Around me other cadets glance at each other, wide-eyed, mouths part but nothing comes out.
“Now that I have your attention...” Talen doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t need to, the words carry anyway, clean and controlled. Like a blade slid between ribs. I go still. So does everyone else. “...I think I’ll keep it a while longer. Because let me make myself crystal clear...” His fist tightens, and the tension pulls tight with it, like he’s squeezing the air itself. “...While Professor Quinn’steaching style may be morelenient,it does not mean you get to forget where you are. Or who you answer to. This is the Citadel, and you follow the Codex. You will show Professor Quinn—the esteemed Offensive Magic instructor he is—the respect he’s owed. And if you cannot do that,” He pauses, tilting his head as a slow curl tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Well then you’ll answer tome. And I promise you, I amnotas lenient.”
A rush of gasps ripples through the theatre the second Talen steps back and opens his hand. I suck in fast a breath without meaning to.
Fuck.
One class, survive today, figure out tomorrow. That was the plan, right? But god, I don’t know how. Even Quinn’s gone pale. I thought I could stay low, stay quiet, find Talen’s weakness. But that illusion shattered the moment he silenced a hundred cadets with a flick of his finger.
There is no weakness.
No loophole.
Everything tightens at once, Threads surging beneath my skin. Fierce and bright and too fucking close to detonation. Logical thoughts scattering before I can catch them.
Well,fuck it.If I’m going down, I’m taking a piece of him with me. He doesn’t get to walk away clean. If he thinks he can bleed the Outerlands dry and not feel it, he’s wrong. I’ll make sure he feels every damned ounce of pain his precious Spice tax costs us, cost Rhiann.
“Today’s Demonstrations will push you,” he continues as he starts pacing the platform, and although we’ve got our voices back, the room stays frozen, no one dares use them. “You’re second-years now. We expect more. Demand more. We’re preparing you for what’s waiting beyond these walls. Out there, no one cares what Realm you’re from. No one cares how clean your strikes look in a classroom.” He looks us over, slow, like he’s already decided who’ll break first. “So today you’ll face cadets from other Realms. Today we will havemixed Demonstrations.”
A ripple moves through the room, quiet gasps and the rustle of shifting bodies break the silence. A few whispers flicker but die just as fast, no one wanting to draw his attention.
“Let’s see what happens when you stop playing safe.” He taunts. “Let’s see what happens when your Threads meet somethingnew.” He pauses, letting it sink in, his crooked smile tugging at the left side of his mouth. “Now, who’s ready to go first?”
No one moves. Even Finn’s managed to stop fidgeting, hands clenched tight on his knees like he’s holding himself still by force.
Then finally, Quinn clears his throat and this time the class actually hears him. "Cadet Malric. Cadet Renn. Front and centre now please.” Talen doesn’t look at him, but Quinn rushes on. “Malric is our top Earth student. While Renn, Water, is highest in precision. A balanced match. A strong start.”
Malric gets up first, like he’s been waiting for this—tall, broad, built like he could break bones without trying. Renn,on the other side of the room, rises slower, thinner, slighter. He looks like he should be buried in books, not on a combat platform.
I catch Quinn watching them, eyes bright like he's proud of his balanced match, like he doesn’t see how uneven this looks. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care. But then again, Ezzy, she definitely isn't the type who can throw a punch either. But apparently, she’s one of the best in this class...
“Oh, this is so fucked.” Finn leans over, voice low. “Malric’s been waiting to tear Renn apart since that Ravenscross assignment last semester. Made him look like a total fool in front of those officers... bet he’s beendreamingabout this.”
Ezzy just rolls her eyes and shoves him back. They both look calm, like this is routine. Like watching cadets tear each other apart is just another Monday afternoon.
Me, on the other hand? I’m currently sitting here one second from breaking... Magic crawling beneath my skin—tight, itching, impossible to ignore. Talen might not even have to kill me, I might just explode right here.
No, keep it together.I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, let out a slow exhale, and shove every ounce of focus toward the platform below where the two cadets now stand.
“I shouldn’t need to remind you.” Talen turns to the two cadets, voice smooth as glass. “That once a Demonstration begins, there’s no interference. Not from cadets. Not from officers. Not from any professors. You stand alone.” He lets it hang for a breath. Then: “And while you’re not required to strike to kill… it isn’t against the rules.”
