Footsteps echo on the polished floor, heading toward me?—
“Officer Gallegher.” Headmaster Thorne’s voice booms through the hall. The entire room looks up as he enters.
“Sir?”
“You’re needed in the Training Room.” No explanation.
I glance at Noa from under my lashes as he speaks quietly with the headmaster. It’s a mistake.
He looks formidable. Untouchable.Beautiful.
He glances back at me one last time before the two of them exit the mess hall together.
My pulse is ricocheting off the walls like it doesn’t understand what rhythm is. I swallow the lump that’s gathered in my throat.
He’s back.
I’m simultaneously relieved and terrified.
By last period, none of the student body is even attempting to pay attention. Elemental Theory is our last class of the day. Professor Barrows is almost through his lecture on dueling when a commotion outside forces him to stop mid-sentence.
“Vikhrostrum—just came through the northern gate!” someone blurts from the hallway.
Everyone lifts their heads in unison. Barrows pauses, chalk frozen in midair. His eyes widen, as though he already knows what’s about to happen.
For half a second, the entire classroom holds its breath.
Then the room detonates.
Benches scrape. Pens clatter. Someone actually whoops like they’re at a stadium. Ian, two rows over, leans across his desk, eyes bright and feral. A few students surge to the windows, craning for a glimpse.
“Noa’s dueling today,” Ian whispers, like he’s savoring it.
Sothat’swhat Thorne wanted with him earlier. I sink lower in my seat, my stomach drawing into a tight knot.
“Can’t believe they’re throwing one of them in the pit withthe fire kingthe same day they arrive.” Ian’s excitement is palpable.
Rozsen’s grin is all teeth. “That’s not a welcome. That’s a threat.”
Barrows tries to regain control of the room, but it’s almost impossible. Nobody sits properly. Students hover. They vibrate. Barrows takes one look at our faces—wild, buzzing—and dismisses us five minutes early.
As everyone packs up their bags, the whispers start—fast and hungry.
“Don’t they all get recruited straight into Krovya after graduation?”
“I heard they only duel to the death.”
“Shut up—who do you think will win today?”
“Do you think Noa will?—”
The name pricks hot under my skin.
I lower my gaze to my notebook, but the words blur. I can’t see the pages anymore. I can only see stone and blood and the Caldera’s ancient ring waiting like an open mouth.
Outside the classroom, Whittaker becomes a current.
Students flood the corridors in a roar of footsteps. Coats whip. Boots skid on stone. Someone casts a tiny spiral of wind down the hallway just to watch papers lift like startled birds.
