As the final word leaves his mouth, a thin golden string slips from his lips, delicate, and glimmering. It twists midair, then splits, fracturing into a hundred smaller strands that fan outward, sweeping across the room like light through water. They sink into us, all of us. At once and the effect is immediate.
The tension unspools, shoulders ease. A few cadets even smile, nod, because that last part?It’s true.I feel it settle in my chest, heavy and undeniable. My Threads recognise it before my mind can form the thought. There's no arguing with it.The Veils still hold. The Citadel isn’t worried.Still, everything else he said before that? Lies.
Every word.
He knows it. I know it.
And the way he’s looking at me now, too direct, too steady, says it all.I know you don’t believe me. But you’ll keep your mouth shut anyway.
“Well, now that that’s settled,” He continues, shifting his gaze from mine. “I’ll stay and observe the rest of your Demonstrations. I’m eager to see how you're all progressing. Professor Strannt, please continue.”
Merrin steps back, rejoining Talen, who’s now leaning against the closed door, one foot hooked over the other, flicking his golden talisman between his fingers with lazy precision. Looking, as usual, like he couldn’t give a fuck.
From the mat below, Strannt calls the first pair of Cadets and the next ninety minutes are pure chaos.
I thought the Offensive Magic Demonstrations were brutal, but there’s something about the sound of bone snapping under a bare fist that hits different.
It’s visceral. Raw.
Each blow echoes through the Rec Hall, sharp enough to echo off stone, sharp enough to crawl under your skin if you let it.
Every crack earns a flinch. Every scream tightens the coil in my gut. I cross my arms, uncross them, fingers tapping restlessly at my thigh as my magic stirs.I try to breathe through it, but the air’s too thick, all sweat and fear, clinging to the back of my throat like smoke.
Most cadets play it safe though, seem to have some kind of mutual agreement to not take it too far.
But not all of them.
Some are carried off limp, blood streaking behind them, covering the old stains as new ones soak into the mat.
Pressure gathers at the back of my head, the rhythm inside me kicking harder. I know I can handle it, I know I'm fast, precise. Combat is where I belong... But still my Threads itch, twitching with every pulse. Like they knowwho'swatching.
I just need to keep this clean, no magic, no slip. God, I need a new bloody duck...
Another crack splits the room as an Earth cadet drives his fist into a girl from Water, his knuckles sinking hard into her ribs.
She folds, gasping, catching herself on trembling hands. She tries to speak, but he doesn’t let her, doesn't stop, just steps in, kicking her hard in the side.
Coughing, blood hitting the mat in wet splatters, she rolls, hand scraping weakly across the mat, the universal sign to tap out.
But he ignores it.
Walks over, grabs her by the hair. Says something no one hears and then slams his fist into her face.
Her body crumples like it was never alive and a stunned hush blankets the room.
Out of the corner of my eye, Talen’s talisman goes still as his fingers clamp down around it, gold pressed into skin. His face hardens, rage flashing there for just a second, but then it’s gone as Professor Weasel steps into the centre.
“Officer Strannt. Officer Veirmont,” he orders. “Clean this mess up while we call down our next cadets.”
As Strannt passes his father, he leans in, murmuring something at his ear. His dad nods in acknowledgment.
My gut twists so hard it hurts. Okay, here it comes.Ryven versus Lyra, round two.
“Our next cadet,” Professor Strannt announces, “is someone I’m especially proud of. One of the finest in Non-Magical Combat we’ve ever had. I trained his older siblings, champions in their own right, and he’s well on track to surpass them.” A pause. “Cadet Elijah Crowe, please join us.”
Wait—what?
Elijah rises from the front row, exchanging a glance with Ryven and his sister. Then he strolls on to the mat, calm and unhurried. It’s only now I really notice it, how stacked he is. Broad shoulders, solid chest, sleeves clinging a little too well. He moves like he belongs here, like the mat is just an extension of him. I barely registered it yesterday, but now? Here, there’s no missing it.
