Page 194 of House Ignis

Asher's answer came like a velvet knife, his amusement giving way to something far more competitive.

"It's sports, darling. Winner takes it all."

Gods help us—the whistle hadn't even blown, and the air already smelled like war.

"Ava!"

Jules' voice sliced through the cacophony of the crowd.

I spun, spotting her weaving through the throngs of people in high-waisted jeans and a soft pink sweater, her glasses already beginning their inevitable slide down her nose.

he looked like she'd been plucked straight from the silence of the Archives and dropped into a stadium packed with screaming, bloodthirsty Fae, but she was radiant all the same.

I hugged her tight before Ember, Maddy, Rhea, and Zaria chimed in with their own hellos.

Jules mumbled a greeting back, but her focus was already gone, her gaze locked onto the field with a sudden, breathless intensity.

She was looking at Darcy.

Darcy prowled up to the line alongside Asher, all coiled muscle and dangerous ease.

Her cropped hair—black shot through with jagged streaks of violet—caught the sunlight like tempered steel.

Heavy tattoos curled up her arms, inked in that same bold, sweeping Umbra style as Asher's and Ezra's.

The marks looked like a shared language, a history carved permanently into their skin.

Darcy's sports bra bared her toned midriff, earning appreciative whistles from half the bleachers.

But it was her eyes that stopped the breath in my throat—violet and unyielding, glowing with a faint, ethereal light even from across the pitch. She turned her head, caught sight of our group, and winked.

It wasn't for the squad. It was specifically for Jules.

Every one of us turned to Jules in unison, identical grins spreading across our faces.

Jules flushed a deep, violent crimson, fumbling with her glasses as if they could somehow shield her from our scrutiny—or the heat of Darcy's violet gaze.

"You girls are absolutely terrible," she hissed, her voice sounding strangled.

I opened my mouth to deliver a devastating tease, but the referee lifted the whistle to his lips before I could get a word out.

The sharp, piercing blast split the air, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar.

The match had begun.

The ball didn't just drop—it ignited. A roaring sphere of fire burst into the center of the pitch, the heat blasting across the grass with enough force to make the front row recoil.

"Gods, it's fire to start!" Ember hollered beside me, her pom-poms shaking with a frantic energy as if she were trying to summon the flames herself.

Jules’s eyes went wide behind her glasses, the orange glow reflecting in her lenses. "Wait—what are the actual rules of this thing?" she shouted over the deafening roar of the stadium.

Rhea leaned in, her dark braid swishing and a sharp grin cutting across her face.

The ball changes element whenever it feels like it. Fire burns, ice slips, stone breaks toes, and shadow… good luck even finding it. You can't use your hands. You catch and guide it with magic. The nets are warded, so you have to switch the element at the last second to bypass the shields and score.”

Jules blinked, stunned. "That's—insane."

"Exactly." Rhea smirked, shaking her pom-poms with lazy grace. "That's why we watch."