The courtyard training grounds roared with heat from the magma vents, bathing the arena in shimmering waves. Aria stepped onto the obsidian tiles with her classmates, the air thick with anticipation and the faint tang of sulfur. Today's lesson was a full mock battle — paired duels designed to test reflexes, magic control, and improvisation.
Radek stood across from her again, shoulders squared, grin wolfish. "Ready to lose a second time, Death-Touched?"
Aria's jaw tightened. She could almost hear the whispers from earlier — the low murmurings of those who doubted her, the subtle envy that always lingered at Ashwright. Focus, she told herself. This isn't about them. It's about the fight.
Instructor Varra raised her crimson staff, the embedded runes glowing faintly in the molten light. "Begin!"
Radek surged forward with a burst of flame, his movements aggressive, reckless. But Aria had prepared. She had spent hours refining her spells, integrating elemental principles and fine-tuning her control. Her Bone Shard Volley flared outward in a tight spiral, reinforced with fire-resistant air currents. The flames slid harmlessly off the reinforced shards.
Radek snarled, summoning a molten spear with a swift motion. "Too slow!" he barked, lunging forward.
Aria's pulse quickened, but her movements were calm, precise. She unleashed her Shadowed Bone Lash, now twisted with controlled air-pressure coils. The lash snapped across the courtyard, striking Radek's wrist and disrupting the alignment of his molten spear. Sparks danced and fizzled as the spear collapsed harmlessly.
Radek's eyes widened. "Wha—?!"
Aria stepped forward, shadows gathering like smoke around her hand. She murmured a syllable under her breath, releasing a small, controlled explosion beside him. The ground trembled slightly, throwing him off balance. When the smoke cleared, Radek lay sprawled on the tiles, staring up at the sky, ego bruised and pride wounded.
Instructor Varra's gaze swept the courtyard, sharp and approving. "Aria wins. Control, precision, and innovation — you've earned this victory."
Whispers rippled through the other students, half impressed, half wary. Some eyes held admiration, others suspicion, and a few, like Radek's closest friends, burned with quiet resentment.
Aria exhaled slowly, letting her tension ebb away. It works. The spells work in combat; it wasn't a fluke . Her muscles still hummed with adrenaline, but the thrill of testing her creations against a real opponent made her pulse sing.
Radek struggled to his feet, brushing ash from his robes. "Lucky shot," he muttered, though his glare promised this wasn't over. "You won this round, but next time…"
Aria allowed herself a small smirk. "Next time, I'll be ready. But maybe you should work on your timing first."
Varra nodded at the class. "Observation is key, cadets. Every duel teaches you something — about your power, your limits, and your opponent. Learn from both victory and defeat."
As the other students gathered their weapons and practiced spells in smaller groups, Aria's thoughts drifted inward. Radek won't stop pushing. And soon, neither will the cult. I have to keep improving, faster than anyone expects.
Her eyes flicked to the horizon, where the last rays of the sun caught the molten streams. She felt the pulse of her magic hum beneath her skin, and for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself a spark of satisfaction." I'm not just surviving anymore. I'm getting stronger."
The courtyard buzzed with the remnants of heat and magic, and Aria knew the next challenge — Elemental Theory class — awaited. Her bones still tingled from the duel, her mind already planning new integrations for her spells. The battles ahead were not just tests of strength, but of wit, endurance, and her will to survive.
With one last glance at Radek, still fuming and muttering, she strode from the arena. Let them watch. Let them doubt. I'll show them what Death-Touched really means.
Aria gathered her satchel and stepped to the side as two more students took the arena. The magma vents rumbled beneath the floor, releasing another wave of shimmering heat through the courtyard.
Instructor Varra paced along the edge of the circle, staff tapping rhythmically against the obsidian tiles.
"Pair two! Demonstrate controlled elemental counters. No wild charges, no full-force detonations unless authorized."
Aria leaned against one of the basalt pillars, forcing her breathing to slow. Her wrist still buzzed faintly from channeling air pressure so quickly. She realized, with a strange thrill, that her body was adapting to the new spell forms.
Kora, a quick-witted lightning student, slid next to her, eyes shining.
"Okay, that was insane," she whispered. "Since when do you infuse compression rings into shadow spells? Varra didn't teach us that."
Aria kept her expression neutral.
"I just started experimenting. It's mostly stabilization through pressure control."
Kora let out a low whistle.
"Radek is going to complain for a week straight. We should start a class pool."
"On what?" Aria asked, arching a brow.
"On how many times he tells people he almost beat you."
Despite herself, Aria laughed. A short one, but real.
It felt… good. Better than she expected.
Across the courtyard, Radek's friends were huddled in a tight knot. One of them — Marrek — kept glancing over, whispering too quietly for Aria to hear. She didn't need to. She knew the look: calculating, bruised pride, planning another chance.
Varra's voice cut through the murmurs.
"Aria."
Aria straightened reflexively.
"Yes, Instructor?"
Varra's eyes were sharp, but not unkind.
"Your innovations are effective, but volatile. The wrist strike was clever; however, if you overcompress the lash matrix, it could snap back and injure you. In later lessons, I want you cataloging every modification you make."
Aria nodded.
"I understand."
"I'm pairing you with someone new next session," Varra continued, eyes flicking toward a student Aria hadn't worked with before — a tall girl with glacier-blue tattoos spiraling up her arms. "Nira Frostborn. No flame tricks this time. Expect ice pressure and armor plating."
Aria's pulse picked up again. A different challenge. Perfect.
Varra turned away to shout corrections at another pair, and Aria felt a presence to her right.
A quiet, steady voice spoke without looking at her.
"You're getting stronger."
It was Luvian — silent, observant, always in the back row. His magic specialty was barrier formation, which meant he noticed everything.
Aria shrugged.
"I'm trying."
"You're succeeding," he said simply, then walked away before she could respond.
By the time the last duel ended, the sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The heat from the magma vents was fading, replaced by the academy's evening chill.
Varra clapped once, loud as a stone crack.
"Class dismissed. Record your results and submit tactical notes by third bell tomorrow. And remember — power without control is waste. Study. Train. Improve."
Students began gathering their belongings, voices rising in chatter and bragging.
As Aria crossed the courtyard, she caught Radek's voice behind her.
"This isn't finished," he muttered, not quite loud enough to be a challenge, but definitely meant to reach her.
Aria didn't turn.
She didn't need to.
Instead, she pressed her fingers lightly to the satchel at her side, feeling the faint pulse of magic within her notes, sketches, and spell diagrams. She pictured new adjustments — not just air coils, but perhaps something with shock absorption or a delayed release.
Next time, she thought, I want something unexpected.
She stepped through the doorway, leaving the training heat behind, and the academy's cool stone corridors swallowed her.
Tomorrow would bring new matchups, new techniques, and new eyes watching her.
But for tonight, she had something better than victory:
momentum.