Ti felt like it’d co to a complete standstill, as conflicted emotions started clashing at the foot of this anticlimactic hill.
My expectations had been set at an all-ti low following the initial results of my search for Rila.
My overactive imagination had assud the worst, and was now being treated to a scenario it’d considered unrealistic by default.
Yet it was relief that managed to triumph above all other emotions, as confusion and disbelief, leading into a montary state of surreality, all crumbled to the wayside.
I felt my racing heart finally pacing down.
But most of all, I felt that overwhelming mix of guilt and grief, that constant weight on my shoulders… finally lifting.
You will lose people in a fight — whether it’s the battle buddies you’ve trained with and swore to protect, hostiles who’ll be dying by your hands, or even the unfortunate souls caught in the crossfire. It’s one thing to lose a battle buddy. It’s another to see the light from an enemy’s eyes dim after a trigger pull. But it’s an entirely different feeling to see soone completely unrelated to the fight die in the ensuing chaos. You tell yourself it’s not your fault, and a lot of tis it isn’t. But when it cos down to it, the greatest tragedy of all is the loss of those who didn’t sign up to be caught in a battlefield. You carry the mory of their faces, like a rucksack you can’t ever take off. So whatever you do; assess liabilities, mitigate the risk, avoid uncertainty if you can, and should push co to shove — protect the civvies. Because that extra bit of effort can make all the difference.
Aunty Ran’s words rang even truer in my head now.
However, unlike the ti between Rila’s disappearance to the mont I opened that door, it no longer haunted with a sense of guilt.
Instead, it reaffird a lesson I needed to learn — responsibility for lives outside of the mission profile.
The silent reunion was suddenly interrupted by Chiska with a clearing of her throat, pulling out of my reverie. “I’m afraid I have Academy matters to attend to. However, feel free to take all the ti you need, Cadet Emma Booker. Whilst encouraged, watching the House Choosing Ceremony as an audience mber is not compulsory for first-years, as we understand well the need to catch up on last minute practice.” She proclaid with a wink. “Until this evening!”
With a door slam and a few words exchanged imdiately outside of it, Rila and I were left alone, as we both stared at each other in differing levels of disbelief.
However, it was clear that the circumstances behind those looks… were very much different.
With Rila’s expressions discolored by so anxiety welling beneath the surface.
“I would ask ‘how are you’, but I guess that’s kinda a redundant question, huh?” I attempted to break the silence with so humor.
Which sort of worked, if the chuckle followed by a long sigh was any indication. “I must thank fate that your sense of humor is not representative of your intuition and adventuring prowess.”
“Well, I aim to please.” I offered with a shrug. “But seriously, are you doing alright? Have they been treating you okay?”
“Yes.” The elf nodded. “In fact, even in spite of the obvious and expected social derision, I can most certainly say that this is the greatest level of care I have ever experienced.”
That latter comnt forced both my eyes to twitch and my fists to curl up, sothing that Rila clearly noticed.
“Your concern is appreciated, Emma Booker.” Rila urged, attempting to defuse the situation. “But considering the degree of care being provided, I can tolerate such… unpleasantries. Life within the Crownland’s commonaries has prepared for much worse, after all.”
“That doesn’t really excuse that behavior, y’know?” I managed out with a sigh. “But that’s a bone I’ll have to pick with the healing staff later. I’m just glad you’re okay, Rila.” I offered with a smile.
“As am I, Emma Booker.” She responded earnestly.
“Physical injuries aside, how are… things in general?” I attempted to slickly transition off into the topic of the elf’s na.
Though it was clear my approach left things a bit too much up to interpretation.
“They say that idle hands are an insult to the gift of sapiency.” Rila began cryptically. “I’ve never truly understood what my parents and seniors ant by this until these recent days.” She clarified, her eyes gently sliding towards the blank ceiling. “Never in my life have I been expected to do nothing. Though at first a reprieve for the mind and body, it has now beco a form of fatigue of its own.”
I blinked rapidly at that response, the formality throwing off.
“IIII… think you’re just describing boredom, Rila.” I attempted to clarify.
The trade apprentice tensed at this, a shy and flustered look coming across her visage, right before she let out a despondent sigh. “That…” She paused, placing a hand atop of her head, a small smile soon forming followed closely in tow by a chuckle. “You really are a fellow commoner.”
“I’m sorry?”
“It feels like it’s been so long since our encounter, Emma Booker. I almost thought it to be so form of self-delusion. You must forgive , for I was just…” Rila took another breath to steady herself.
“Being a bit more formal and playing into your ‘role’, just to be safe?” I interjected with a breath of relief.
“Yes.” She nodded, her busy eyes hinting at so much more welling beneath the surface. “It… is difficult to really wrap one’s head around. Especially considering your impeccable command of High Nexian. Yet it is in these particular monts, where commoner elocution supersedes High Nexian diction, where I am able to discern the fellow commoner beneath the layer of lexical decorum.” Her features shifted once more, as if worrying if she’d finally strayed past a certain line. “I an no offense by that of course.”
“Should I be offended by that?” I shot back half teasingly, half testing the elf’s self-worth.
A brief twinkling in her eyes indicated that sothing clicked, perhaps a mory of our conversation on that fateful night.
It was following that, that the elf shook her head, offering up a smile in the process. “Not if your stories and your own noble actions are anything to go by, Emma Booker.”
“Aaand just to be sure…” I paused, unlatching my pouch and pulling out the bracelet. “Let’s see if—” I stopped in my tracks as the object of interest did begin glowing, matching the brilliant display of light from the bracelet atop one of the bedside tables. “Yup, there we go.”
Rila’s expressions spoke loudly despite her silence, though despite said excitent, it was clear she was probably still exhausted from having to effectively heal from an explosion.
This prompted to address the elephant in the room sooner rather than later.
“So… I hope you don’t mind asking, but there was another, perhaps more sensitive topic that I wanted to touch on.”
“Go ahead?”
“It’s about your na, Rila. Or rather, your trade-apprentice title.” I broached the subject slowly, gauging the elf’s responses which expectedly darkened. “We don’t have to touch the matter if you don’t feel comfortable—”
“It’s a matter I’ll have to face one way or another. It’s better to do it amongst tentative fellows, no?” She interjected with an uncertain smile, one that belied a growing unease.
“And you’re sure—”
“Yes.” She uttered sternly.
“Alright. I’d like to ask you about the suffix Rel.”
…
1 Hour Later
…
It was about as bad as I’d expected.
The suffix Rel, more or less boiled down to: under legal review, or pending legal inquiry.
And I was partially to bla.
Lord Lartia’s death basically put his entire estate into legal limbo, as without a definitive heir, and with a Crownlands-led investigation being thrown into the mix… Rila’s apprenticeship was now subject to the whims of… well… almost everything outside of her control.
“I’m so sorry Rila—”
“Your actions negate the need to self-assign bla, Emma Booker.” She reiterated, doubling down on her refutation of my apologetics. “This was, as we Nexian commoners say [Tarsink-torlin] — the fallout of petty noble gas on the lives of those below.”
New esoteric colloquialism added to the [Working Language Database]
The ensuing silence was deafening, at least to .
But I had to ask the next question.
“So what outcos are we looking at here?”
“If His Eternal Majesty’s light shines upon , then I may return to my position under the new liege. However, should foul fortunes befall , then I must return ho to start anew.” The elf’s tone indicated that she was anything but optimistic about the turnout, which prompted to instinctively chi in.
“No matter the outco, just know that I’ll have your back, alright?” I offered imdiately. “And this isn’t just so empty promise either. I’ll make sure you’ll have whatever you need for a fresh start.” I spoke with a smile, brimming with optimism that seed to co naturally following the recent turn of events.
Nexian crap be damned, I’d at least make sure to make a difference with this one life.
“Emma Booker—”
“Just Emma is fine.” I urged politely.
“I must insist that—”
Tooo-Toooo-TOOOOOOOOT!
The blaring of trumpets pulled the both of us out of our back and forths, as we both craned our heads towards the source of the commotion — the balcony.
It was at that mont that a Bim Bim-grade idea dawned on , as I turned to Rila with an expectant smile. “I think I’ve bogged you down enough with these what-if’s and could-be’s. For now, how about we cure your boredom, eh?”
With a tug and a pull of Rila’s surprisingly mobile bed, I positioned the elf just short of the balcony, before drawing the translucent curtains wide open.
“Front row seats to the magical gas!” I grinned.
I expected one of those sports-comntator views of the gymnasium below, with at least a decent vantage point of the open-air track nestled within.
However, those hopes were frustratingly dashed, as the only thing we could make out from this level was a small corner of the gymnasium’s field, the rest being obscured by the rest of its bulky Victorian-esque structure.
“Welp…” I sighed, turning back towards the bed-bound Rila with a sullen shrug. “Maybe we could read a book or sothi—”
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
CRRKK!
SHRRKKKK!
CHRKK-CHRRK-CHRRRKKKK!
The ground beneath us rumbled up sothing fierce, prompting my eyes to dart around for any cracks, splinters, or dust forming in the wake of those seismically-concerning noises.
Rila’s eyes hinted at the sa concern forming deep within my gut.
However, what happened next would be sothing that caused my whole body to freeze.
The stadium in front of … rapidly expanded.
The wrought-iron victorian talwork expanded outwards in every direction, raking across the earth like a farr tilling their fields.
Or more accurately, like a god-sim gar deciding to tear their overworld up a new one.
The stadium’s walls followed suit, quickly sliding outwards to et its tal fra, dragging grass, topsoil, and dirt in the process… leaving not a single tree, hedge, or piece of shrubbery for the poor gardener to save.
Though that clearly wouldn’t be an issue.
Because the freshly-upturned soil was quick to heal. The piles of exposed dirt were quickly compacted into patches of neat mounds by so invisible force — causing the ground and everything atop of it to violently shake with each and every stomp — making the way for the growth of grass, flowers, and even whole trees. All of which, ended up mimicking the well-kept greenery of a noble’s gardens.
Indeed, what amounted to a space more than several new olympic fields in size had suddenly been tiled, paved over, and dressed up for the event in just a matter of minutes.
The whole space now much more resembled what I’d expected from a grand magical tournant.
However, it wasn’t the end result that blew away, but the process of actually getting to it.
This was despite my experiences with similar, if not larger projects — naly in those field trips to the O’Neill cylinder ga-fabs.
With the O’Neill cylinders, it was clear the scale was there, and the sheer detail that went into every pre-fab ‘sector’ was just as, if not more intricate than what I’d just witnessed here.
I’d seen entire mid-density residential districts, complete with ready-to-install parks and ‘green sectors’ plonked and finished in front of .
However, the process was tedious, involved, and imnsely resource intensive.
This… just felt so effortless.
An entire venue had just been molded and shaped as if it was a casual VR session.
Production and construction had just been casually expedited, moving straight from VR sketchpad and into the physical world.
I was left in mild awe.
Though it was clear Rila was utterly taken aback, the elf left too stunned to speak.
But before either of us could really address… everything that just happened, a booming voice echoed from the newly constructed stands, now towering in the middle of the field like so air traffic control tower.
TO ALL WITHIN THE ACADEMY
HEED THE CALL OF THE HOUSE CHOOSING CEREMONY
TO THE STUDENTS, THE STANDS
TO THE FACULTY, THE CHOOSING TOWER
What was unmistakably Chiska’s excitable voice bood throughout the Academy.
MAY THE FIRST GROUP ENTER!
My eyes were peeled in anticipation, a giddiness inside fueled just by how the stage itself had been set. After all the stress this past week, I was more than happy to simply sit back and watch. With eager eyes and a quick zoom-in via optics, the first of several figures that made their way to the stage turned out to be none other than…
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Field of Champions. Local Ti: 1010 Hours.
If you co across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from . Please report it.
Qiv
“Let it be known that my gratitude knows no bounds for the honor you’ve bestowed upon us, Dean Rur Astur.” With earnest respect, I gave a bow to the honorable Dean. As did my fellow peers; the rustling sound of movent behind confird such. I did not dare to raise myself just yet, not until I heard it.
“Please, you may rise, Lord Ratom. You may rise.” So ca my better’s command and indeed — to fra it as little else was foolish. I did as he bade, steeled in my resolve. “The task ahead deserves your effort, reserve your resolve for what is to co.” I took that paternal smile and returned my own, reserved yet ardent.
The dean retreated out to join his articled faculty, and I focused my attention on the growing chatter amongst the audience.
“Lord Ratom?” The drawling voice of the slow-witted bear irked.“Hold it in, Lord Kroven. We’re about to begin.” I held back a hiss, just as the chatter of the crowd rose from impatience and impudence. It was like the scraping of claws against pig iron. For a presentation such as what we had planned, this demanded utter silence.
We made our way, basking in the light of the stage and seen by all, stopping just at the epicenter of a glorious plane of theatre. Withal, the incessant noise of fellow students engulfed us as much as the light had.
I raised a finger up to my lips, my eyes scanning once more to the crowd that deservedly had this coming to them. SSSSHHHHHH
My call for silence was accompanied by the sudden conjuration of cloudy wind — continuous streams of puffy clouds that erupted from my maw.
The whole central field was promptly covered in a layer of fluffy pink-hued clouds, basking it in a simulacrum of heavenly fields, with I standing in the midst of the only clearing — the rest of my peers quickly hidden amidst its confines.
Pleasant silence fell upon the stadium, as the clouds began to move, one by one, revealing the rotund Rostario resting atop of one of them.
However as quickly as the serene scene was established, so too was it almost imdiately subverted, as the clouds started to darken and twist, picking up speed as it did darker and darker hues, until finally it began swirling up a storm.
Only a few short seconds was needed for the heavenly scene to turn hellish, as lightning and howling winds embattled the greenery and landscaping of the central fields.
A tempestuous storm had ford, with its borders clearly demarcated by the staves and fences the professors had situated in the stadium.
The storm continued to intensify, and by Rostarion’s command, the last of the cottony clouds turned dark.
Though that wasn’t the end of their ‘corruption’.
With each cloud quickly changing shape, contorting, transforming into elvenform wraiths, ard and armored.
Like solid hail, they fell onto the stage, with Kroven, Airus, and myself surrounded.
Such was the bat’s cue.
With an unfurling of her wings, and a mighty leap into the air, she ascended several stories, staying aloft above the chaos.
She looked at her conjured foes with eyes that could smite — diving down into the crowds of these shambling monsters.
The leading edge of her wing suddenly glistened with a tallic gleam, matching the cocksure grin that I could’ve sworn glinted just as brightly.
It was then that she leveled out, wings poised forward, as she began slicing through the gaggle of nimbic wraiths.
And then she had to show off.
She afforded no rcy to her vaporous combatants, performing barrel-rolls and aileron rolls alike, her wings shimring brighter and brighter with each ‘kill’ to the point where they began crackling with light.
Finally, she ascended sharply, banking left and right through the remaining clouds, until she regained enough altitude for the final act of the show.
Her glistening wings discharged, erupting with electrical light and a series of brilliant lightning bolts.
This eviscerated any remaining undead, and vaporized what clouds remained.
Throughout it all, the bear-like Uven remained planted firmly to the ground. With a cock of my head, he took in a nervous breath and began as planned. With arms raised, he focused much of Airit’s seemingly endless lightning into a solid ball of light, the spherical shape contorting and twisting, hinting at just how the man was struggling to keep it all in one cohesive shape.
His features stiffened as he held the ball aloft with strain and tumult, until finally, he tossed it upwards.
It went far higher than it should have, flying past Airit, past even the cloud-surfing Rostario, and farther than the highest peak on the academy, until finally…
thhhhhhROOOM
The overcast skies above the stadium was lit anew in a brilliant display of streaking lights and fanciful fizzles, though it honestly was more tacky than I would’ve preferred. Save for the pride-instilling displays that regarded our very being — blindling and brilliant images of each of our family crests.
As expected, the culmination of our efforts was rewarded with a much more pleasing sound of resplendent cheers and deserved acclaim.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Healing Wing. Local Ti: 1027 Hours.
Emma
Hoots and hollers were carried aloft all the way up to the dical tower without the aid of magic.
The whole scene genuinely reminded of one of those Cloud Nine shows on Venus, especially with the use of clouds as a dium of artistic expression.
The Venutians were, understandably, fond of using the clouds between their cities whenever they could.
Which invariably, ant similarly brilliant displays of aerial acrobatics… though perhaps with less in the way of teenaged magic mutant ninjas.
“Marvelous, Lord Qiv! Incredible work Lady Airit! Spectacular display Lord Rostarion! And what an amazing final piece of showmanship Lord Kroven!” Chiska announced through the PA system with an ecstatic fervor. “Your scores will be tabulated and given to you following the conclusion of the day’s ceremony. For now, feel free to enter the Banquet Hall, where you may bask in the glory of your showmanship!”
The cheers continued even as the group was ushered off the field and into the stadium.
The center of the field, which looked as if a tornado just went through it, was quickly repaired in the span of a few minutes.
Rila’s mouth remained open all throughout that show.
Her features were sohow locked in that perpetual display of awe, which I could only appeal to by shrugging. “T’was fun, no?”
“I…”
“I’m sure today’s entertainnt is going to make up for the boring week of nothing you were subject to.” I grinned cheesily, watching on as the next group quickly arrived on scene.
My features shifted drastically as I saw who it was though.
“Lord Auris Ping and fellows, are you ready to begin?”
“On His Eternal Majesty’s na, I was born ready to serve his light.” He spoke uproariously, garnering the cheers of more than a dozen students. To his right was Lady Ladona, and to his left were the two other mbers of his troupe which always seed to be sidelined next to the giant personalities of the forr two.
The first, being Ciata Barr, an ‘Ophidiarealr’, who I could only describe as a humanoid being with opalescent stone-like skin, loosely resembling a snake being forced into a humanoid body plan.
The second being the Cervinrealr, Vicini Lorsi, who looked eerily humanoid despite the obvious deer-like elents of his body plan.
The two remained quiet, but ready for action. Whilst Ping and Ladona continually shot knowing glances, as if getting ready for a signal.
This soon ca in the form of a wink from Ladona as the pair suddenly pushed back, the ground beneath their feet rising upwards and backwards, until they were each standing atop of stone pillars at the very edges of the demarcated field.
Following this, Ciata and Vicini soon got to work, raising up dirt and stone alike in the center of the field, fusing the collection of sedints to form walls and spires that ford a whole castle.
Though admittedly, a miniature one as it was clear that their power was far more limited compared to the professors.
Yet despite those limitations, they still managed to pull off an incredible display of what looked to be a cross between precast construction and vertical stacking, as they kept adding and adding layers onto what was quickly becoming a decent-sized scale set of a battlefield.
Auris and Ladona however weren’t just sitting at the wayside whilst this happened, as they both began molding statues and structures of their own — forging individual soldiers, siege machines, and what looked to be larger than life statues of an elf, a giant, and a dwarf.
After a solid ten minutes of nonstop construction, the center of the stadium had been transford into a scene that resembled so sort of historical reenactnt.
With scaled-down armies surrounding a massive castle, and a floating head looming ominously over the would-be besiegers.
“THE SIEGE OF THE LAST HERETIC!” Auris proclaid loudly, his finger angrily pointed at the floating head in question. “THE LAST OF THE FIRST ‘GODS’, THE DEFILER OF FREE FATES!” He continued, garnering several loud cheers and claps. “HERE I STAND, WITH HIS MAJESTY’S DIVINE GIFT OF FREE WILL FLOWING THROUGH , TO REENACT THE DEATH OF THIS DECREPIT THING!”
A pause followed, as Auris and Ladona’s individual pillars suddenly rged, and they both aid their hands towards the vaguely draconic-looking face.
“BEGONE, FOUL BEAST!” They scread simultaneously, blasting the rock with a series of blasts that ranged from lightning bolts to boulders to what looked to be so weird magical acid — the latter of which managed to lt what was left of the floating head, causing it to sink into the castle beneath it in a pile of green sludge.
The various ‘armies’ soon marched forwards, as all four now began a collaborative group effort in reforging everything into a new castle. One which looked to be a cross between Minas Tirith and a starscraper, rising so high that it even reached the height of the faculty’s observation tower.
Soon enough, the group was done, as they turned towards an uproarious series of cheers, with Ping basking in the attention.
“A truly remarkable and passionate demonstration of various forms of magic, with a clear dedication to historical accuracy, down to the participants of the Siege of Utarina.” Another voice ca over the PA system, this one belonging to none other than Articord, Ping’s favorite professor.
However, whatever ‘microphone’ they were using in the booth was quickly taken, as Chiska once more took over. “Seconded! Now, feel free to enter the banquet hall! And may the next group please approach the field!”
I turned to Rila with a cock of my head. “Historically accurate?”
To which the elf could only shrug in response. “That’s what’s taught. I was fortunate enough to be schooled, and this aspect of history was indeed regarded as factual, Emma.”
It was following that final exchange, and a few more casual conversations over a few more modest displays of magic, that I finally took my leave.
It was close to noon after all.
Which ant it was ti to fulfill my obligations.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. ‘Practice Hill’ Overlooking the New Gymnasium. Local Ti: 1420 Hours.
Emma
As expected, the practice mainly consisted of relegated to the sidelines. Awaiting that second-to-final act as the group focused on polishing the actual magical parts of the performance first.
I ended up spending most of the ti watching the stadium from atop the practice hill.
And what I observed was that most of the performances seed lackluster compared to the production value of Qiv and Ping’s performances.
Despite that, the faculty seed to be just as enthusiastic about the specifics of so of the less than flashy performances.
It was two particular groups however that stuck out to .
The first being a group who seed confident to start out, forging what looked to be an almost stereotypical looking gateway, which two mbers calmly walked through.
Though following this, nothing really happened.
Moreover, the remaining two began panicking as a whole twenty minutes of absolutely nothing happened, save for the frantic searching through loose parchnts and binders.
The pair were almost ushered off before the portal suddenly reopened, and the two students from before returned with triumphant smiles.
Their smiles didn’t last for long however, as it quickly dawned upon them that their few-second stunt had sohow beco a twenty-minute quagmire.
I couldn’t help but to feel for them as they were ushered off to the banquet hall. Though the sa couldn’t be said for the second group that genuinely ticked off.
As this second group went so far as to push a commoner they hired to the brink of death, all in an attempt to demonstrate Belnor’s first-death principles.
The faculty was divided on this one.
With Belnor herself condemning the ‘rash’ acts, but Articord arguing that it was disqualifiable on grounds of the participant being an outsider, and thus against the letter of the rules.
The group was sent to the banquet hall, though with much in the way of drama.
Following all of this, I was finally allowed to participate in the rehearsals.
It was only after I reviewed the newly-annotated script however, was I given the rundown on the last-minute revisions the gang made prior to lunch.
“Ilunor… are we going to be doing a musical?”
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium Faculty Tower. Local Ti: 1900 Hours.
Chiska
“May the final peer group approach the field!” I announced with an ecstatic grin, as excitent and anticipation welled within , my eyes trained on what most amidst the fellowship were dubbing the great unknown.
"Curious how they'll asure up." Belnor spoke softly.
"Rarely have students asked to be placed last. Rarer for them to beg for it. I have my doubts about their skill." Articord promptly added.
"You never know. Cadet Emma Booker has proven herself capable of breaking barriers when it cos to the unexpected." I retorted with a knowing wink.
"We shall be the judges of that, Professor Chiska." The dean concluded, his eyes narrowing in on the newrealr with each and every step she took.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium Faculty Tower. Local Ti: 1900 Hours.
Emma
We took center stage with a cocksure Ilunor, an equally confident Thalmin, and a poker-faced Thacea.
All eyes were on us, as the day’s light gave way into the strangely cloudy evenings of the Nexus.
I wasn’t typically one to feel stage fright.
But given the unique circumstances at play, I definitely felt sothing close to it here.
Ilunor stepped forward first, followed by Thalmin, as they each bowed to one another before pacing ten steps away from each other.
In sothing taken right out of the pages of a western, they promptly spun around and fired.
Though it wasn’t bullets this ti around, but fire and ice.
The pair held their arms outstretched, their hands aid towards one another, as the continuous streams of fire and ice generated a plu of steam that obscured the whole field.
The two streams of magic ended abruptly.
Though the battle was just beginning.
As lightning pierced through the clouds, Ilunor perford what I could only describe as an ‘ani’ pose in the process.
Thalmin, however, pulling from light magic classes, managed to not only dissipate it, but also redirect it, forming his hands into a ‘gun’ shape, before shooting it up and out of the stadium, bathing the crowds in an iridescent blue light.
A pause followed after that redirection, then… all hell broke loose.
Ilunor began belting out baseball-sized balls of fire from his maw towards Thalmin.
However, with each blast ca the prince’s martial prowess. As each and every attack was countered by a slick flip, jump, and dash, leaving the fla bolts to scorch the ground in a series of peculiar sooty patterns.
This back and forth continued, as the pair’s moves beca less martial and increasingly more artsy, with each surge of magic and each extension of their bodies becoming less like a fight and more like a dance off that circled the stadium.
This all culminated in Thacea’s disruption of the playing field, the avinor flying up high and outstretching her hand towards the ground. The tips of her primary feathers glowed — the sooty markings thrumd in response. With a swift swish of her winged arm, the sigils erupted into action, blasting the entire field with a powerful freezing spiral — ice stretching over and across the whole surface before wispy winds wizzed back within the confines of the sigil circle, fizzling into boreal streams that built up more and more to form a glacier.
THUNK
THUNK
THUNK
A glacier that I climbed and stood at the summit of, all eyes now focusing on .Ilunor breathed in sharply, flas jetting from the corners of his lips.Two swords appeared in Thalmin’s hands, both surging with the light of magical energy.The airborne Thacea looked down, her feathers ruffled and straightening, and her inky eyes pulsed with the sigils.
ALERT: MULTIPLE LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED
200% ABOVE—
Flashing lights.
300% ABOVE—
Heat haze-like wobbling.
400% ABO—
Distorted colors.
500% AB—
And a whole host of visual artifacting began flooding my vision.
550% A—
The ground beneath crackled.
700%
Whilst the ice around lted.
The warnings blared nonstop.
Yet at the end of it… nothing happened.
Though judging from the ogling eyes of the audience, most notably the upper years who had dropped everything they were doing to observe this last stunt — it was definitely a show stopper.
The lack of the 1 notification was a huge relief as well, prompting to give Thacea a knowing nod of support.
But the show wasn’t quite over yet.
“eemmoriiies~” The Vunerian began, his singing voice surprising not just , but seemingly the rest of the crowd. “We long to be rembered in eeemoorriies~” He continued, gliding across the icy stage on ice skates forged from magic.
“Oh eemoriiees—” Ca another, more baritone voice, as Thalmin arrived with a pair of skates of his own. “We yearn to be rembered… by histoooryyyyy…”
“emoriies…” Ca a higher voice, a refined voice, one that seed almost born to sing. “Let us be rembered with pride and dignity~”
I felt sothing welling up within following that singing voice — the beauty of it montarily overpowering the objectionable lyrics — as I couldn’t help but to stare on, watching as the princess flew up gently with slow, practiced, flaps of her wings.
“Because to be reeembeered~” All three continued, bridging into a chorus. “Is the highest gift of all~” Ilunor and Thalmin slowly but surely raised themselves up, as the ice rink began rising layer by layer like a cross between a slip and slide and a wedding cake.
“In the pages of history, we all hope to leave our legacies~” The chorus continued, Ilunor’s pop-singer voice, Thalmin’s baritone dulcet growls, and Thacea’s angelic high-notes, all complinting each other like sothing pulled from a fantasy music video.
“From the distant farlands—” Thalmin began, generating what looked to be a mini-representation of the farlands on one side of the ice rink.
“—to the castletops of Vuneria—” Ilunor continued, raising up scale models of his mountaintop kingdom.
“—we will strive to… build our legacies~” Thacea concluded with a resonant series of chirps, captivating , as I montarily turned off the translator just to hear the music alone without the lyrics.
All three voices continued, before blending into yet another chorus, as the music eventually ca to a slow and gradual stop.
The lyrics need work… but at least they got the singing right. I thought to myself.
The wedding cake-like ice tower eventually collapsed, Thalmin quickly grabbing hold of Ilunor, parkouring down onto the top of the pile of icy rubble.
Following that, Thacea flawlessly flicked her wings, reverting any and all damages to the field. This left just the bare dirt beneath her, causing a series of whispers and murmurs to flare up soon after.
I eventually joined back up with the group after that final… musical, standing just to the left of Thalmin and right of Thacea, hoping not to draw too much attention.
A single clap erged from the crowds, followed by four more, all of which belonged to Cynthis’ group, as she gave Thalmin a questionable wink.
Afterwhich, more and more hands began their respectful claps, as Etholin took the lead to bring his side of the bleachers into so light cheers.
Soon enough, that gradual rise from subtle golf claps to full and remarkable applause made swell up in pride, as did Thacea, Thalmin, but none more so than Ilunor who was quick to take to the front and bow and take in the revelry. I looked on, and saw the praise of many, but also the scorn of a certain few. The staff seed nonplussed about it, save for Chiska who was all too excited.Then I saw the face of the dean, singling out as he wore that two-faced smile on his face; ire probably broiling within. Maybe it was the spiteful brat in , but his reaction gave as much enjoynt as the cheers.
“Lord Rularia’s performance marks the conclusion of the House Choosing Ceremonies. It is with this final holdover of the grace period that I now call upon the removal of all blinds — so that all may see the Nexus in its infinite glory.” He proclaid in a tone that felt as nacing as it was cordial.
Great, yet another cryptic announcent… I thought to myself.
Little did I know, it wouldn’t remain cryptic for long.
As the perpetually overcast skies started to shift, the clouds that had been obscuring everything finally lifted, to reveal what I expected to be a starry night sky.
The operative word here being — expected.
Because instead of stars… all I was t with was darkness.
An empty black abyss where the stars should’ve been.
“EVI?”
“Yes, Cadet Booker?”
“What the fu—”
FWWWOOOOOOSHHH-BANG!
User Comments
0 comments from readers