Her hand lifted, shadow rippling from her fingertips. “Your heirloom,” she said.
I hesitated, fingers brushing the relic at my wrist. The heirloom was warm against my warm ivory skin. My shield against the unknown magic here.
Reluctantly, I unclasped it and placed it in her waiting palm. She tucked it away without ceremony.
“Now,” Chen said softly. “Let’s see how well you’ve learned.”
The room fell utterly still as everyone waited for what came next.
I reached inward, to the place where my magic lived as my tutors had taught me. Those bright, spinning sun wheels deep in my core pulsed. I drew from them, steady and deliberate; warmth rose through my chest and throat until it thrummed behind my eyes. I built the solid and unyielding walls as she’d described.
Professor Chen extended her will. It brushed against me like a cool wind, but then nothing. No pain. No pressure. No intrusion.
For a moment, I wondered if she hadn’t begun. Then her brow furrowed slightly, and the shadows around her hands deepened. The air thickened. Students leaned forward. I waited for the attack that never came.
Her magic touched the edges of my mind again, probing, searching and met only silence.
I braced instinctively, imagining the golden ramparts sealing tighter. Still nothing.
Professor Chen’s eyes flickered, the faintest crease forming between her brows. The gold in her eyes flared brighter, as if she were forcing her way through some invisible barrier.
My pulse hammered, but still I felt no invasion, no breach, only a faint hum, like distant static.
This couldn’t be it. I had built a myriad of mental shields before, but this felt almost effortless.
After a long moment, she exhaled and stepped back.
“Well done,” she said, voice unreadable.
The benches erupted in whispers.
Chen’s gaze lingered on me for a heartbeat too long before she looked away. “Remarkable! Take note. This is what you aim for. Control. Stillness. An unbreakable mind.”
Applause rippled through the benches. Shakari shot me a stunned look, half pride, half disbelief.
I couldn’t stop smiling, relief and elation flooding my chest as the tension finally broke. Against all my fears and doubts, I had finally done it. I’d held my ground in something in this academy, pride burning through lingering apprehension.
But across the room, Professor Chen’s expression never softened. She studied me the way one might study a dangerous relic, beautiful, but unpredictable. When the class finally ended, Professor Chen returned my pendant with deliberate care.
Her tone faltered for the first time. “Your… walls are unusual.”
“What do you mean?” I asked in confusion.
“They feel sturdy, innate. Very interesting,” she said quietly.
As I turned to leave, her voice followed me, measured, and uneasy, revealing more than just professional concern. She seemed determined to ensure I wouldn’t grow overconfident or let my abilities become a risk.
“Keep practicing. One success is not safety, and comfort is how minds are broken. Your twenty-first birthday is approaching. After that, your protection heirloom will fail. From then on, your mind must stand on its own. You are the heir to the throne.”
Chapter 12: Sky Terrace
The rooftop stone bit into my feet, a cold anxiety churning in my gut. Wind curled around the Sky Terrace like a serpent, sharp and hungry, snaking through the open air, scraping my bare arms, and filling my chest with a deep, suffocating dread. I tightened the wraps around my knuckles, pulse hammering, every movement shaky with anticipation and uncertainty. I wasn’t sure they’d protect me from what was coming, or if anything could.
Up here, above the towers of the academy, there were no walls. No safety. Just air, stone, and the expectation that if you stood in the Dragontail ring, you’d better be ready to bleed for it.
This wasn’t just a Dragontail class. Students from Emberkeep and Auroric lingered at the edges; some were assigned to assist, others were just here for the show. A cluster of Auroric students sat cross-legged, meditating with eyes closed, as if our suffering brought them balance. A few practiced healing spells on mock wounds. Others flanked the sparring circles watching, quietly and curious.
Soehl stood beside me, arms tightly crossed. I noticed her wringing her fingers, the tension clear in her movements, and her lips pressed in a grim line. She looked as anxious as I felt, and it steadied me to see my own fear mirrored in her posture.