Student after student stepped forward and fell.
Rowan faced Rory Rey and was defeated in under thirty seconds. He combined his magical trace of wind with fire bursts, but it barely slowed her. Rory moved like the storm she commanded, calling rain and shadow from the air. Each motion was precise, deliberate, honed by years of training.
Her strength wasn’t just magical; it was carved into her. The tank top she wore revealed abdominal muscles cut from discipline—hard, defined, unapologetically real. She was a force built from sweat and shadow. She embodied everything Moonveils were known for: mastery of both magic and body, balance between storm and control.
Sunhearts weren’t encouraged to fight as they were.
Tran lasted a full minute against a broad-shouldered second-year Sunheart before he was slammed to the ground with a burst of kinetic force. His wind magic was strong, but not enough against a warrior who had been shaped within these mirrored walls for a year. Shakari held out longer. She was fast, trained by her father, unshakably proud. Her opponent, a Moonveil second-year, dodged, countered, struck with precision. For a moment, she seemed to hold her own.
But then he caught her in a net of shadows.
One hand around her throat.
She held as long as she could but was forced to tap out.
A boy from the Golden City lasted fifteen seconds before being thrown into a wall and knocked out cold. A girl from the Silver City summoned flames only to be drenched by river of magic from the mirrored floor.
Each fall came quicker than the last.
Thirty seconds.
Twenty.
Ten.
No one from our year was ever going to win.
Not even close.
Then…
“Thea Solenhart and…”
My blood ran cold. I was so terrified that I couldn't even register my opponent's name. I had no idea how to begin a real magical duel. The games and mock battles in the Glass Castle were nothing compared to the training most of them had endured.
I stepped forward, heart slamming against my ribs. Don’t show fear.
Across the hall, my opponent stepped into the ring.
A second-year Sunheart.
She was... breathtaking.
She had her black hair bound into twin braids, each wrapped in golden wire. Her high cheekbones and flawlessporcelain skin shimmered in the mirror light. Her eyes were elongated and bright gold, but not as bright as mine. She walked like a dancer, deadly and lithe, hips swaying with a cruel sort of grace.
“Marla Yung,” she said, smiling. “I bet you know who I am.”
I didn’t answer. I wielded a fireball in my palm.
I didn’t need to know who she was.
But I hated that I wanted to.
“You’re the Solenhart brat,” she continued, circling. “The one Thalen dumped for better magic. And better... other things.”
I hurled the fireball. She ducked low. The spell scorched across the floor and detonated in a burst of light. Marla barely flinched.
I wielded again. Faster.