Page 77 of Black Wing and Shadows
The murmur that spread through the gym was instant. A few cadets leaned forward, eager for the show. I made my way across the mats, my boots striking the floor with deliberate force. Kaelen was already waiting on the mat, rolling his shoulders, that cocky half-smile set on his face.
“Been wanting to test you,” he said, voice pitched to carry. “See if you’re as good without your winged-boy watching your back.”
I stepped into the ring and took a dagger from the mat. “You’ll regret finding out.”
“Begin,” Gile said.
Kaelen darted forward, feinting with his bare hand before swinging his dagger in a swift slicing arc toward my side. I caught his wrist, twisting it forcefully to weaken his grip, and drove my knee into his gut. He blocked with his thigh, pivoted sharply, and in the next moment, his dagger vanished—shifted to his left hand.
The bastard was fast.
He swung again, the steel blade narrowly grazing my sleeve. I responded with an elbow blast that struck his jaw, causing his head to snap back. The crowd reacted with a subdued ripple, but Kaelen only grinned wider, a spark in his eye showing he was relishing this.
“You fight like a girl,” he said, breathless but taunting.
That lit something inside me—sharp and hot. I pressed forward, dagger in hand moving in a tight, punishing rhythm: cut high, slash low, twist, strike. He dodged and blocked, but my blade found its mark across his ribs. He retaliated with a hook that rattled my teeth, forcing me back a step. We circled each other, both breathing hard, the weight of the crowd pressing in.
“Tap out,” he said, mocking.
I lunged forward, and he met me halfway. Bone cracked loudly against bone, echoing through the dusty rafters. A final twist wrenched his daggerfrom his hand. I raised my knife beneath his chin, pressing firmly enough for him to feel the pressure. His chest heaved with rapid breaths. He held my gaze for three long beats before tapping twice on my arm. Gile stepped in instantly, but I was already lowering my dagger. Kaelen’s smirk faded into a cautious expression—perhaps respect or curiosity. I turned my back before I could be certain.
“Theron Vargash calls Casimir Nanda.”
The room quieted enough for the weight of the call-out to settle. Casimir—light brown hair damp against his forehead, blue eyes calm—moved from another mat with measured steps. He was reliable. Solid. One of the best hand-to-hand fighters in our class. Casimir had the predator’s gleam in his eyes.
Gile’s voice snapped through the air. “Begin.”
They clashed in a quick, intense burst—Casimir opened with a precise diagonal slash, which Theron deflected and dodged. Theron then kicked low, unsettling Casimir, and advanced with precise, controlled strikes. Casimir blocked and countered, managing a light hit on Theron’s shoulder. Theron adjusted—his movements subtle, yet faster than human limits. His strikes sharpened and became more aggressive, gradually pushing Casimir back with each step.
A flash of steel—Theron’s dagger drove into Casimir’s forearm, forcing him to drop his weapon. Casimir didn’t hesitate. He tackled Theron, driving both of them to the ground. They rolled, fists and knees flying, until Theron finally wrenched free with a quick, fluid twist.
And then—
The dagger came down. Not flat, not a warning strike—the point, hard, brutal, straight into Casimir’s throat.
The sound in the gym shifted. The crowd’s noise dissolved into a collective, shocked silence, broken only by the wet, choking gasp from Casimir as he clutched his wound. Blood bubbled between his fingers. Instructor Gile moved, but not quick enough. By the time he reached them, Casimir’s eyes were wide and glassy, and his body lay slack on themat. Theron slowly rose, breathing heavily, his expression unreadable. He carefully set the dagger back on the floor and stepped away.
“Winner—Theron Vargash,” Gile said. His usual finality in his voice now carried a hint of darkness.
They took his body so quickly. The rules hadn’t been broken. But the air in the gym was different—heavier. The heaviness that didn’t fade in a day. There were several more matches, some of which were callouts, and then it shifted to randomly matched. Thankfully, there were no more injuries or fatalities. A check-in with Michaelova would be needed later, since Casimir was in his flight. The feeling of losing a fellow cadet was already known to me.
***
The magical arts classroom felt nothing like the combat gyms. The air carried a sharp tang, almost metallic, as if it had been steeped in spell work long before we arrived. Sunlight poured through the high windows, striking the protective wards carved into the floor. The concentric circles glimmered faintly, alive with hidden power, as though the room itself breathed magic.
Professor Vindex paced at the center, his long coat brushing the tops of his boots, eyes sharp as he looked over us. “Today is about control,” he said, voice steady but weighty. “Raw power will impress no one if you can’t hold it in your grasp.” His gaze flicked to me for half a heartbeat before moving on. I didn’t miss it.
We formed a wide circle—Sadie on my left, Micah on my right, with Akira, Lorenzo, and Jackson arranged around us. Vindex’s class recently seemed to combine magical discipline with physical exertion. This time, we were each assigned to hold a sphere of energy while performing a series of movements, including strikes, spins, and defensive stances.
I summoned the magic from deep within my core, just as I practiced, and it came effortlessly—fast, hot, eager. The air around my hands shimmered,and the sphere blazed to an almost blinding white-gold. My pulse raced sharply. It was so easy to let it grow, to feed it until the heat brushed against my skin and the sphere expanded beyond my control. I knew exactly what that felt like—the moment when the magic stopped being mine and began to own me. I crossed that line weeks ago. I had already burned past it.
A flicker of memory—the last time I didn’t hold back, when the air cracked and the ground shuddered beneath my feet, when others looked at me as if I were something dangerous, something other.
“Focus, Auri,” Sadie muttered under her breath, not looking at me. I realized the sphere in my palms started to hum, with its edges warping from raw energy.
I took a slow breath, forcing the heat down, narrowing the light until it was steady and small again. My body moved through the strikes, the sphere hovering perfectly between my palms as I shifted.
Vindex moved behind me, his voice quiet. “You can yield more than most in this room. That will either make you invaluable… or get you killed. Decide which it will be.”
