Page 64 of House Ignis

Bursts of flame collided with walls of water, and roots split the stone floor only to be crushed by howling winds.

Each time magic struck the barrier, the wards hummed louder, the silver-gold runes straining to contain the raw power of the first-year class. It was a spectacle of chaos and control in a perfect, precarious balance.

Ember nearly singed her opponent's eyebrows off, cackling without a shred of apology.

Meanwhile, Sera and Nyssa were a force of nature, absolutely dismantling Ryven and Solstice. While Sera's shadows coiled like snakes around Ryven's legs, Nyssa dive-bombed from the sky like a silent, lilac missile, all three eyes locked in brutal focus.

Now, Ryven was sprawled dramatically across Maddy's lap like a fallen hero of legend.

"I let her win," he grumbled into the fabric of Maddy's trousers.

"You got your ass handed to you," Maddy corrected sweetly, ruffling his dark curls as we all howled with laughter.

But the laughter died instantly at the next call.

"Next up," Professor Aldara announced, his voice slicing through the noise, "Ezra Valeor and Zaria Waters."

A heavy hush fell over the benches. Ezra rolled his neck, the joints popping in the quiet, and strolled toward the center of the ring as if he were headed for a casual chat rather than a war zone. Ruin and Havoc prowled at his sides—one massive, muscular body with two snarling heads moving in eerie synchronization. One head snapped lazily at the air while the other tracked the shifting water in the arena's far fountain with cold, predatory precision. Their claws scraped against the heated stone, and saliva hissed where it struck the floor.

Then, the fountain erupted.

A massive sea serpent surged from the water, a sea-cobra the size of a siege tower.

Its hood flared in a sweeping fan of iridescent blue-green scales, and coiled muscle rippled beneath its slick skin as it rose higher and higher. Water cascaded from its length in heavy sheets, and as the droplets struck the arena shield, the barrier flared sharply, absorbing the force with a deep, strained hum.

If that shield failed, the front row would be flattened.

Zaria Waters stepped forward, looking like the arena was her personal sovereign territory.

She was tiny—shorter than me, even—with porcelain skin and blue-black hair twisted into twin pigtails that brushed her waist. Her Tideris leathers clung to her small frame, but her ice-blue feline eyes didn't blink.

"I've never seen Ezra fight," I whispered.

Asher leaned forward, the warmth of his bare chest brushing my shoulder. "Ezra fights cocky," he said quietly. "He provokes first, makes you think he's careless. He wants you frustrated and overextended."

"He's not reckless," I muttered, watching Ezra's relaxed stance.

"No," Asher agreed. "He calculates while pretending he doesn't."

My eyes stayed locked on Zaria. "And her?"

"She's Tideris royalty. The princess."

My stomach dipped. Of course she was.

"She trained with the Drowned Blades," he continued.

I glanced back at him, startled. "The assassin order?"

"The kingdom calls them swordsmen," he said dryly. "They're executioners with etiquette. She doesn't try to overpower you. She constricts, controls the space, and cuts off your exits. Water isn't her weapon—positioning is."

"She fights like she's hunting," I noted. I paused, then asked, "So you know her well?"

A quiet hum of approval vibrated through him. "Yes." Then, after a heartbeat. "And I've been with her."

The words landed like a blade sliding between my ribs.

"Are you jealous?" he asked softly, his voice dropping into that dangerous, honeyed register.