### Chapter 10: Lunar Combat Practical – When the Moon Watches Too Closely
Friday, 2:00 p.m.
The Lunar Arena
The Lunar Arena was built inside a crater that had fallen from the eclipse moon itself centuries ago. Its walls were pale silver stone veined with living moonlight; the sand was crushed starlight that glittered like diamond dust. Above, the sky was open to both moons—one waxing, one permanently eclipsed—so the light constantly shifted, silver and bruised violet, silver and blood-red.
Today the arena was packed. Word had travelled faster than portal dust: Kael Voss and Riven Thorne were scheduled for the graded paired-sparring assessment. The stands were standing-room only. Someone was selling commemorative eclipse-shaped cookies. Lira had a betting pool running on how long it would take before clothing came off (current favourite: under four minutes).
Professor Hawke—a retired battle-mage with a mechanical arm and zero patience—stood at the centre circle, voice amplified by runes carved into her throat.
"Rules," she barked. "First to yield, first to be pinned for a ten-count, or first to the boundary loses. No lethal magic. No maiming. Everything else is fair game. Bonded pairs—" her gaze sliced to Kael and Riven "—you are not exempt from control. If the bond overrides your judgement, I will intervene personally. Understood?"
Kael swallowed. "Understood."
Riven's answer was a low, velvet growl. "Perfectly."
They stepped into the circle.
The moment their feet touched the starlight sand, the bond *flared*—wild, hungry, delighted. Shadows spilled from Kael's ankles like spilled ink; crimson mist curled from Riven's fingertips like smoke from a fresh wound. The moon above seemed to lean closer.
Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Try not to destroy my arena."
She blew the whistle.
Riven moved first.
He was a blur—vampire speed turned up to cruel—and Kael barely had time to throw up a shadow shield before Riven was inside it, one hand on Kael's waist, the other catching his wrist. The contact sent lightning through the bond: want, pride, fear, love, all of it raw and unfiltered.
Kael twisted, using Riven's momentum to flip him over his hip the way Soren had taught him. Riven hit the sand laughing—actually laughing—and rolled, dragging Kael down with him.
They hit the ground together, Riven on his back, Kael straddling his hips. Shadows lashed out instinctively, pinning Riven's wrists above his head. Crimson threads answered, looping around Kael's throat—not tight, just there, a reminder.
The arena went dead quiet.
Hawke's voice was dry. "That's one way to attempt a pin."
Kael's face burned. He could feel every single pair of eyes on them. The bond was broadcasting at full volume: heat, hunger, the exact memory of Riven's mouth on his collarbone two nights ago.
Riven's eyes were pure crimson now, pupils blown wide. "Yield?" he asked, voice rough.
"Never," Kael breathed.
He released the shadows and lunged.
It became a dance—brutal, beautiful, and embarrassingly erotic.
Every move fed the bond and the bond fed every move. Shadows wrapped Riven's torso and yanked him forward into a kiss that tasted like blood and starlight. Riven's blood magic flared, painting runes across Kael's skin that burned deliciously. They rolled, grappled, slammed each other into the silver walls hard enough to crack stone. The sand beneath them turned black and red in swirling patterns, a living record of their fight.
At one point Kael had Riven pinned face-down, forearm across the back of his neck, shadows binding his wrists behind his back. Riven arched up, fangs grazing Kael's wrist in clear challenge.
"Ten," Hawke started counting, amused. "Nine—"
Riven *moved*. A burst of blood-mist exploded outward, dissolving the shadows. He flipped them, slamming Kael onto his back, knees bracketing his hips, hands pinning Kael's wrists beside his head.
"—three, two—"
Kael surged up, sealing their mouths together.
The whistle blew at the exact same second the bond detonated.
Power poured out of them in a visible shockwave—black and crimson rings that rippled across the arena, shattering every protective ward like glass. The silver walls cracked. The starlight sand rose in a perfect circle around them, suspended mid-air, glittering.
Hawke's voice was distant. "Match. Draw. Everybody back the hell up."
The sand fell like rain.
Kael and Riven stayed exactly where they were—foreheads pressed together, breathing hard, lips a breath apart.
Riven's voice was wrecked. "I hate tying."
Kael laughed, shaky and exhilarated. "Liar. You love it."
Hawke strode over, mechanical arm whirring. "You two just broke seven centuries of arena wards. Detention. Both of you. And a new rule: bonded pairs spar in private from now on."
The stands erupted—cheers, wolf-whistles, at least one person fainting dramatically.
Lira's voice carried over the chaos: "Pay up, losers! Under four minutes and they broke the moon-damned arena!"
Riven helped Kael to his feet, fingers laced tight. Blood trickled from a cut on Riven's lip; Kael's shadows curled forward instinctively to lick it away.
Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose. "Get out of my sight before I expel you for public indecency."
They didn't need telling twice.
They made it exactly three steps outside the arena gates before Riven shoved Kael against the nearest silver wall and kissed him like the world was ending.
The bond sang, loud and triumphant.
Somewhere above, the eclipse moon watched, smug and satisfied.
**End of Chapter 10**