Page 114 of Burning Heir

The world around us spun into chaos, a furious flurry of wind tearing through the air. Trees groaned and smoked, their leaves snapping like brittle paper. I drew the flame from within, letting it surge through every vein until my chest burned and the air was stolen from my lungs. I doubled over, gasping, but the wind caught me, holding me firm as ash swirled into a spiraling inferno.

The vortex roared around us, flames licking at its edges as though alive. Our breaths fell into sync, and in that moment, I felt her power merging with mine, pulsing beneath my skin. The wind taunted, pushing harder, daring me to falter.

Then it happened. A flame ignited in Malachi’s pupils, burning with a brilliance that stole the breath I’d just reclaimed. This wasn’t like the quell Archer and I had shared before—this was something else. Something deeper.

Our quells collided, and suddenly, it all made sense. Wind and fire weren’t meant to oppose one another. They were meant to unite, to create something unstoppable. Something deadly.

Shadows simmered below, not enough to draw attention from the watching crowd, but enough to dance around us. It was not a raging fire consuming everything within that sweltering wind, but I knew it could be. We could burn this academy into dust if we both tried.

Then Malachi let go, and ash rained down on anyone within a one-foot radius. The air sucked back into my lungs, and Professor Cain stood with his jaw nearly hanging on the grass.

“Now, that is a perfect example of quell sharing. That amount of control takes years to achieve, and most students can only quell share for a few seconds.”

Something distant grew in her eyes as though she knew exactly what kind of force we could become together. She shrugged her slim shoulders. “See you at combat,” she whispered.

Knox ran towards me. “Hey, I missed you during training,” he said awkwardly. “I miss you, Sev.”

Still catching my breath, I leaned against my brother. “We’ll talk about it later,” I said as we walked to the combat fields together.

Malachi traveled through the wind, already waiting and talking to Monty in a hushed conversation.

Without turning, Monty yelled, “Severyn, you’re back on swords today. No quells allowed for this class.”

I stiffened. Had I done something wrong? I stayed silent as Monty grouped us in twos. Archer still wasn’t there, and I couldn’t care. Those three days in Ravensla meant nothing.

Monty didn’t take his usual space at the front. Instead, he angled in front of me, and it wasn’t until everyone had already begun sparring that I realized Monty was my opponent. Unsheathing his sword, he did all those respectful gestures one did before tearing into the other.

“Why am I fighting you?” I asked, edging toward my blade.

“It is time someone taught you a proper lesson on hierarchy. You may have been given quell privilege, but you are useless in a hands-on battle,” he said, not waiting for me to pull my sword out as he swung at my chest. “And I don’t appreciate being disrespected by a first-year.”

My cheek took a blunt swipe as I turned. Pain swelled in my jaw as blood dripped onto my collarbone. I dragged the red-handled sword over my shoulder and stepped back, the weight tilting me unevenly.

“I don’t need to fight well when I can burn you into ashes with one touch,” I hissed.

Monty laughed. He laughed in my face as he held the blade over his head, and our swords clashed together. The blood boiled in my veins, but I shoved it back as far as possible. He was stronger than me and had faster reflexes.

I dodged the double swipe but didn’t expect him to be where I had veered. The tip of the sword stabbed into my right leg. My screams hallowed, drifting along the fields.

Again, again, again, our swords smashed into each other. I fought to get a wisp of air past my barred teeth. But he was always one step ahead. I frayed on the heavy line of passing out, dragging my limbs to rise. A sheen of white speckled my vision, my spine hunched with the weight of the blade. Not a single cut marred his olive skin.

I dropped my sword, relinquishing my triumph. “I’m done!” I yelled. “You—win.” Hand on my shaking knee, I palmed my fingers to shield myself from the breaking light of his iris.

But that wasn’t enough. Monty drew that sword out, and I met his ravenous, pale eyes as he stared at my thundering heart, knowing it was seconds away from dimming.

Darkness consumed the entire combat field. I flung out of the way as he stabbed his sword where my chest was seconds ago. Shadows consumed every bit of light, and even Monty had nothing to draw from once the sun was stripped from the sky.

Ashen rays soaked me, then two firm hands gripped my shoulders, and I was pulled through the darkness, through the rippling pain in my entire body.

Within one blink, I was in the infirmary.

Estella yelped, hand on her heart as she ran toward me. “Goodness, Severyn, you scared me.”

I held my bleeding cheek. “I think I need stitches.” I swung my gaze, searching for Archer.

She shook her head, inspecting my cheek. “I’ll do my best not to leave you with a scar. It seems everybody wants to kill you but never finishes. You’re lucky.”

Luck. This wasn’t luck. It was Archer saving me from Monty piercing my heart. I gripped the wall as Estella poured a stinging orange liquid over the wound.

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