Isla didn’t see the wave that rose with sudden force; she only felt the icy cold water as it lifted her from the punt and carried her toward land in a water bubble. The sensation hit a nerve—a memory of her first swim in Cornwall, the current yanking her under, tossing her beyond reach, gasping and trembling when she surfaced. The sea had earned her lasting respect that day.
Suspended in midair, submerged in water, she felt the same helplessness as she had in that wave, the water pressing relentlessly from all sides.
Her eyes were open; it felt like she watched a movie through a screen as she scanned the chaos—watching but not present. The rest of her friends were still on the boat. George summoned a sphere of earth, preparing to throw. Andrew’s horrified gaze caught hers, panic flickering across his face, but he had to duck as an Ignis shot fire toward him. Isla couldn’t breathe; she needed to breathe.
Then she dropped. Water splashed around her as her back hit the muddy ground, the wind knocked out of her. Gasping for air, she turned and came face-to-face with a man covered in wet mud; he must have been struck by George’s earth projectile. Fear surged through her at being so close to him. Before he could attack, she summoned thick vines. They shot up from the ground, wrapping around him like a spider ensnaring its prey.
She stood shivering, cold and soaked but determined to do her bit. How had everything gone so pear shaped? On the bank, what looked like three men and a woman blocked her friendsfrom reaching her while bright flashes lit the night sky as they fought. From the water, four more figures emerged, dripping and relentless, advancing toward her.
She backed away, her breath ragged. She had no idea what powers these men possessed; she was still so new to the Aetheric Arts, and she was outnumbered. They surrounded her, each of their palms aglow. She heard Juliette cry out in pain from the punt; she was so close, but too far to help.
She faced the men and thrust her palm out, willing the trees to listen to her guidance. Roots burst from the soil and coiled around the nearest man’s waist. For a moment, triumph flared in her chest as the man was lifted, hanging upside down, and started to rise—until a second man burned the roots to ash with a flick of his fire-wreathed hand and the floating man crashed to the ground.
Isla staggered back as smoke clawed at her throat, choking her. She wouldn’t let these foul men hurt anyone else. She summoned a burst of leaf growth around her, encouraging the foliage to flood the air with fresh, pure oxygen at an unnatural rate. The fronds sucked at the black, gritty air, and for a blessed second the smoke thinned and allowed Isla to draw in a ragged breath. It wasn’t perfect, but it brought her seconds, and the concentrated oxygen steadied her hands and cleared her head.
Heart hammering, she sent a whip of roots toward the Ignis. The vines lashed out like a net and snaked for an arm—only for the man to swat them aside, sparks of his counter-magic singeing the tendrils. Isla’s effort unraveled; the plants shrank back where they’d been burned. She staggered, lungs raw, as the threat shrugged off her best shot.
Isla looked toward the river. Through the haze of smoke, she could make out their punt as it spun helplessly as thoughtrapped in a whirlpool, the Aqua at the bank twisting her hands, no doubt creating a current with cruel precision.
On the shore, a Terra had raised crude, jagged banks of earth, turning the riverfront into a makeshift trench line. From behind this cover came bursts of flame and slicing gusts—elemental shots traded across the water like wartime fire. For a moment, the unsteady punt and the barrage together held her friends back, momentum swallowed by chaos.
Turning, she faced the group surrounding her. The man she had attacked was on his feet again, though his arm hung at an odd angle. Still, he stood with the other three, silent and unmoving, all of them watching her. Why weren’t they charging at her?
“You’ve been a challenge to kill, Professor Cole,” Davies said, his voice low and edged with irritation. “It could’ve been over quickly—if you’d just died when I tried to choke the life out of you. But no, you had to survive and drag all your friends into the mess.”
She recognized the voice: Professor Davies was the Ignis who had tried to kill her that first day. He had killed his colleague Ray. He was recruiting students, preying on their fears and weaknesses.
“A little bird also told me,” he went on, a sneer curling his lip, “that the leaders of the Ossa Arcana wanted to recruit you. And you turned them down.”
“Who are these leaders?” Isla asked, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest.
The man laughed mockingly at her attempt to get inside information. “Who knows? They could be anyone. But I do know this: every man here”—he nodded to the others surrounding her—“is more deserving of that honor than someupstart girl. You were offered what none of us were, and for what?” His eyes burned with anger. “You’ll die today, as our clients requested. But before you do, I want to see what they saw in you—what made them thinkyouwere worthy.”
Isla’s stomach knotted in fear.
The four men all raised their palms, various colors flickering ready to strike, ready to take their turn attestingher worth. Pure power radiated from them. These men may be strong, but she was one of the few female professors in the country, and she would defeat them. In her own subtle way.
Overconfidence, my dear sir, is a hazardous companion,Isla thought as she summoned plush, silvery mushrooms to bloom in her hands, encouraging them to shoot a fine, pale somnolent dust from the fungus pores toward Professor Davies. His eyes behind his balaclava went heavy as his breathing slowed. Lulled to sleep, he sank to the earth into waiting vines, the roots binding him.
It all happened in seconds; she had to scramble behind a tree as a lightning bolt shot toward her. It crashed and seared into the tree’s massive trunk. She summoned a bitter, resinous sap and directed it toward the Ventus who had just tried to strike her. It fell slick across the man’s face. She encouraged it into his eyes and to slip down his mask and into his mouth. As planned, the man began to gag as an intense, nauseating bitterness burned his throat. He staggered and began to vomit, collapsing on the ground, no doubt wishing he no longer wore a mask.
Two men remained. One stepped toward her, eager to prove his superiority. Electricity crackled across his knuckles, the air around him humming with the promise of lightning.
Isla braced, feinting right, hoping he’d take the bait and send the bolt that way with the intent of moving in the oppositedirection, but he read her strategy perfectly. She didn’t even have time to scream as a split second later, instead of a lightning bolt, a gust of windslammed into her with the force of a battering ram.
The blast hurled her backward, slamming her mercilessly against an oak tree. The world blinked white for a heartbeat.
Her breath fled her body in a painful rush, and she crumpled to her knees, choking on air that refused to enter her lungs.
She looked up and saw his lips curl in a condescending smirk as she tried to draw breath. Her ribs throbbed. She tried to push up—but her limbs trembled beneath her, refusing to obey as she tried to catch her breath.
The Ventus was already closing the distance, lightning once again gathering at his fingertips. He moved with calm, chilling precision, like a man who already knew the outcome. She had to slow him down.
Isla targeted his boots and the ground beneath them. In seconds, the leather and sole went soft with rapid decay. As he lunged, the man slipped and lost his balance, crashing to his knees.
She tried to wrap vines around him, but before they could take hold, her determination faltered—her resolute will waning into uncertainty.
Then came the memory of Professor Davies’s voice threading through her mind.“You had to survive and drag all your friends into the mess.”
