“Effective show-off,” I corrected. “Look how the veil responds to her.”
The Light Veil she now touched pulsed brighter, its golden color shifting toward amber. It followed her movement like a curious pet, drawn to something in her energy that the others couldn’t provide.
“I don’t understand,” a woman behind us shouted over the cheers.
“Furies, woman. How many times do I have to tell ya? They guide the veils with magic and runes to collect ’em. Different colors are different points. It’s easy enough.”
“There’s the witch!” the woman shouted.
“Elena Brightwater,” her companion corrected with reverence. “She’s the best veil-reader in the league.”
I turned slightly, catching sight of the player in question. Elena moved with sharp precision across the platforms, her hands weaving subtle patterns that made the Light Veils dance toward her like moths to a flame. Beautiful. Confident. Completely unafraid to use her magic in front of fifty thousand people.
“Brightwater’s a goddess,” someone else chimed in. “Pure magic. Pure talent. Serves us she’s not a fire witch.”
The woman who’d been confused agreed. “Oh, yes! I love her. So elegant.”
“But what if she was?” the boy beside her asked from over my shoulder. “A fire witch, I mean.”
Several people around us grew quieter as the boy’s father leaned in and whispered in his ear. The boy’s eyes grew wide as he whispered, “Phoenix,” and immediately covered his mouth with his hands.
No one wanted their entire life burned to ash. The world didn’t want to start over, building from nothing... again. They didn’t want to say goodbye to those who didn’t carry Life Runes. So, they hunted the Phoenix instead. Kill the line, kill the cycleof Burnings that plagued this world. Seemed logical enough, if it didn’t mean condemnation ofallthe witches.
My stomach clenched. I watched Elena guide a silver veil with a gesture so graceful it looked like art, and the crowd erupted in adoration. The same people who would spit on me in the street for being a witch were screaming themselves hoarse for her.
Because she was beautiful. Because she entertained them. Because she won games.
“Must be nice,” Vitoria murmured beside me, following my gaze.
“What?” Though I didn’t really need to ask.
“To use magic and have them love you for it instead of hunting you.” Her voice carried an ache I felt in my soul. “Look at her, Syn. She’s not hiding. She’s not afraid. She’s just... free.”
Elena scored, sending a golden veil spiraling through the Banshee portal with a casual flick of her wrist. The crowd went wild, chanting her name as if she were divine. As if she were a Fury performing for them.
“BRIGHT-WA-TER! BRIGHT-WA-TER!”
My chest felt hollow. Watching Elena was like staring through a window at a life I’d never have. She wore her witch nature like a crown while I buried mine like a shameful secret. She was celebrated. I was tolerated at best.
“Different rules for stars,” Calder said quietly, reading the longing on our faces. “Always has been.”
Around us, the crowd’s energy built like storm pressure. Chants started in scattered pockets, then spread through the stands like wildfire.
“Banshees! Banshees! Let them howl!”
The other side countered. “Serpent strike! Serpent strike! Venom and might!”
A horn sounded, deep and resonant. The players took their positions on the floating platforms, strategically placed.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer’s voice boomed. No question, he was using a rune for that kind of projection. “Welcome to the opening night at the Grimora Championship Arena!”
The crowd erupted. I found myself on my feet with everyone else, caught up in the infectious energy. Beside me, even Calder was clapping.
“Tonight, we bear witness to the clash of titans! The reigning champions, your beloved Howling Banshees!”
Purple light exploded across the arena. The Banshees players raised their arms, and the crowd’s roar shook the stands.
“Facing the fierce challenge of the Silverbolt Serpents!”
