His body crumples, drops, dead weight hitting the stone at Talen’s feet with a dull, final thud.
What the?—
My stomach lurches, the bitter taste of bile rises in my throat.I’m going to be sick.
I swallow hard and tear my gaze away, searching for something, anything. Beside me, Ezzy staring straight ahead, face pale, lips parted, but not in shock—more like she’s bracing. Like she expected this.
“What the fuck was that?” I whisper, voice cracking. “He just killed him. Just snapped his neck like it was nothing...”
“Yeah. Well. You should’ve seen last semester... that’s how I lost my previous roommate.” she replies, unfazed.
I look to Rowan. Finn. The rest of the class. Same thing. Blank faces. No surprise, no fear, just quiet acceptance.
What the hell is this place? I thought Ezzy was sheltered, untouched by pain, by suffering. But I was wrong, she’s seen it, lived it. It’s just been dressed up as tradition. As discipline. As honour. They don’t flinch when someone dies, they flinch when someone hesitates.
“Well?” Talen calls, turning to the room. “Who can tell me what went wrong?”
Hands rise, quick, and more than I expect.
Talen flicks a nod to a male cadet across the room.
“Speed, sir.” The cadet rushes; his body straightens fast—too eager, like he’s certain this is his moment to impress. “Malric was faster. That’s why he won.”
For a beat, Talen just watches him. Arms flexing as the talisman rolls over his knuckles—methodical, mindless—like his hands are moving on autopilot while the rest of him waits to be impressed.
Then, finally?—
“No. Speed didn’t win that match. That’s the best you’ve got? You’re second-years. You should know better.” He cocks his head, eyes sweeping the room. “Who else?”
Another hand shoots up across the room. “Strategy, sir? Malric’s was better?”
“No. Wrong again.” His jaw ticks as he slides the talisman back into his pocket. “Since none of you seem capable of the basic understanding of first-year Thread dynamics, let me enlighten you.” He paces the platform, eyes dragging over the room. “Malric won because of his emotions. Or rather, because hecontrolledthem. Renn lost because he didn’t. He rushed. He let fear drive his magic. And when you let your emotions control you, your Threads will fail you. Every. Damn. Time.”
As he punctuates the last word his gaze snaps to mine. The hit of it punches straight through the breath in my chest, tight and sudden. Instinct says look away. I don’t.Can’t.Not with the way he’s holding me there like he already knows what’s crawling under my skin.
My breath catches, snagging on the sudden tension before I can stop it and my Threads flare hot behind my skin. Pulsing through muscle and bone like pressure hunting for a fault line.
Shit, he knows.
He knows I don’t have control.
I clench my jaw, try to steady it,hold it down, but it’s useless.
Fingers twitch against my thigh as the air around them starts to warp, shimmer. I shift in my seat, like the movement might bleed some of it off, might make more room for what won’t settle. But nothing helps and he sees it, the corner of his mouth already curling.
“Record it. Remember it. Don’t repeat his mistake.” He finally turns away. “Next pair.”
Quinn clears his throat, he tries to sound steady, but there's a flicker of nervousness as his eyes cut to Talen. “Umm, Cadet Ryven. Fire Realm, front and centre please.”
The skinny cadet with the toothpick, same prick who shoulder-checked me outside, stands and struts to the platform, cocky as ever.
“Now, who to pair him with…” Quinn hesitates, searching the room, shifting his weight as his fingers twitch at his side.
Talen leans in and murmurs something in his ear, The professor’s face lights up as his gaze shifts towards the back. Towards us.
“Ah, of course,” he notes. “Cadet Caelwyn...”
Ezzy shifts, steady, sure of herself. And for a second, I’m thrown. No fear. No hesitation, then I remember Quinn said she’s one of his best. But still?—
