The illusion fades, and we’re back in the hall. The recruits and the sergeants are watching our battle with matching expressions of horror.
“Good,” Ender says between clenched teeth. “But not good enough.”
He waves a hand. The ground shudders and rises beneath me, tilting to one side. I stumble, my feet nearly slipping out from under me. He doesn’t move. His balance is perfect while he lets me fight against our surroundings.
I’m struggling to keep my footing. Fear grips me, but I know the secret to winning: ignore the world around us, and focus on Ender alone.
I lunge even with the ground collapsing beneath me. He sidesteps again, and I catch his hand. I twist, using my momentum to knock him off his feet, but it’s an illusion. His arm vanishes like smoke, slipping from my grasp.
A spark of fury ignites in me. I’ve had enough of this stupid lesson. Whatever wisdom he wishes to impart is swallowed by his arrogance and posturing.
“You’re a coward,” I snarl. “Using petty tricks to win.”
“I am a Gifted,” he says evenly. “And you are not.”
He steps closer to me, and I can tell it’s another illusion. His breath is cold against my forehead. He towers over me, forcing me to crane my neck.
“You are smaller, weaker,” he says. “Breakable.”
I fling my baton, and it slides through the projection as I knew it would and hits him in the ribs. He grunts.
The ground steadies once his attention fractures, and the crowd exhales collectively.
The recruits begin to whisper. Their eyes are wide with fear, as if at any moment Ender will summon them forward for a second lesson. Even the sergeants are uneasy.
Ender’s smile fades, replaced by annoyance.
“You’re clever,” he admits, almost reluctantly. “But you can’t win against me.”
For a long moment, we circle each other, the world no longer distorted. It’s just us.
Finally, he steps back, lowering his hands, as if he’s grown bored with this game.
“Enough,” he says.
My chest heaves. Sweat drips down my back, and my baton trembles in my hands.
“No,” I say. “I haven’t won.”
“And you won’t,” he replies. “Not against me. But you are not the worst opponent I’ve ever fought.”
My mouth opens to demand we finish this fight, when he says.
“Your lesson is over, Warrick,” he says. “We’ll see if you can best me next time.”
“What about my sister?”
“As I said, win.”
A hushed silence follows him as he walks out of the room. My hand tightens into a fist. And I swallow back the urge to scream in frustration.
I lost my chance to see Mercy.
I failed.
“Are you okay?” Sora whispers.
“Did you see what he did?”
