He is known for his rare abilities as a water Magick. He can summon or banish rain at will—anything from a soft drizzle to a torrential downpour. But it is the whispered rumors that make him a figure of hushed reverence. They say he can bloodbind—manipulate the water within living things. With a gesture, he can desiccate a thriving plant into withered stems. And if the whispers are true… he can do far worse to a human body.
The third-year water elemental is ready. Stocky, solid, and grounded, Luana steps onto the central platform with the sharp confidence of a seasoned duelist. Her power coils visibly around her like a tide pulling back before a wave. Across from her stands her challenger, Alezay of Vikhrostrum—tall, almost frail-looking, with moonlight hair cascading down her back and a strange, unsettling stillness to her gray eyes. She stands silent,unmoving. The kind of calm that comes not from peace, but from the disciplined patience of a predator.
A faint hiss echoes through the Grotto as the water between them responds—swirling and quivering at their presence.
Professor Ashar’s voice rings out, low and resonant: “Begin.”
The clash begins with a furious burst of elemental command. Water explodes from the pools around them in synchronized arcs, colliding with enough force to drench the surrounding bridges and the people who stand on them, watching.
Luana conjures a crashing wave that surges across the platform, but Alezay pivots with lithe grace, splitting the surge with a precise slice of water so thin it shimmers like glass.
Then comes the shift.
Ice javelins form in midair—Luana hurling hers with muscle and force, Alezay crafting thin, razor-like spikes of frost that whistle as they fly. One comes dangerously close to Luana, too close, a trickle of blood dripping down her exposed arm.
The temperature drops sharply inside the Grotto. Their power slowly slips out of duel-control and into something else entirely.
Mist creeps in—unnaturally fast, swirling around ankles and obscuring vision. Alezay lifts both hands and calls the mist upward into a ring of fog, just as Luana responds with a low-sweeping strike of freezing water that cracks stone underfoot.
The spectators step back.
I watch with wide, tense eyes. Their magick—mymagick—on full display.
Then—out of the corner of my eye—I see it.
Luana’s frozen wave snaps mid-arc and breaks. One shard shears free, jagged and wild, spiraling free from the duel. It isn’t aimed. It isn’t controlled. It screams straight toward Nate?—
And he’s looking the other way.
I don’t think.
I just move.
Water rises instinctively under my feet as I throw my body between the shard and my friend, hands raised. A flash of magick bursts from my palms—but it won’t be enough. The shard screams forward, faster than I can conjure.
And then?—
Shadow swallows the light.
It doesn’t just block the ice.
Itdevoursit.
A thick, smoky cocoon blooms in front of me, pulsing like a living heart—dark, viscous, and threaded with something glowing faintly violet and blue. It feels impossibly cold and hot at the same time. My water bends into it like roots into soil. My eyes widen with shock. And… memory…
I turn and see him.
Gavrail—standing at the edge of the mist, one hand outstretched, jaw clenched, shadows pulsing from his fingertips like ink from a bleeding page.
Our eyes meet—and for a heartbeat, something sparks between us. Recognition. Power.
The look he gives me strikes through my spine like lightning. For a single blinding moment, the world narrows only to the seam where our magicks meet. I can’t tell where my water ends and his shadows begin. And I can feel him.Everywhere.
Then—
Darkness slams down as Gavrail’s shadows snap outward, swallowing what we did and sparking panic—shouts, scraping feet, a single scream.
Light bleeds back in as the shadows loosen. The cocoon collapses like smoke sucked into a crack.
