I nod at Selene, lifting my own staff, one that suddenly feels clunky and awkward in my hands. “Always.”
Master Kaelen and Mistress Manoram stand to the side, their expressions unreadable. Doran is nearby as well, watching closely, next to Master Gavrik, his keen eyes tracking every move. They’re the only ones here I feel are on my side. Some combat trainees have gathered around too, their eyes eager and curious. They’ve been waiting for this—waiting to see me pushed, to see if I can keep up with Selene, the favoured one.
“Let’s begin,” Master Kaelen commands, his voice sharp and authoritative.
Selene is on me in an instant, her staff moving with blinding speed. I barely manage to block her first strike, the impact reverberating through my arms. She doesn’t let up, pressing forward with a series of rapid attacks that force me to retreat.
“Keep your stance, Selene,” Mistress Manoram snaps at her disciple, her tone cold, almost dismissive. “Don’t give her a single inch.”
I listen to the advice, even though it’s not for me, grit my teeth, plant my feet, and force myself to hold my position. But Selene is relentless, her strikes calculated and precise, each one designed to exploit my weaknesses. I block and counter, but it’s clear that I’m barely keeping up.
“Too slow!” Master Kaelen’s voice cuts through the din, sharp as a blade. “You should be faster by now!”
I push harder, forcing myself to move faster, to think faster. But Selene’s skill is overwhelming. Her attacks blend into a seamless flow of motion, and for every move I make, she’s already two steps ahead. I’m barely holding on, and they know it.
The crowd around us is silent, watching intently as Selene drives me back, inch by inch. Sweat drips down my brow, my muscles screaming in protest, but I refuse to give in. I won’t let them see me fail. I won’t give them the satisfaction.
Selene’s staff catches me in the side, and I stumble, gasping as the wind is knocked out of me. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate, and I’m forced to recover quickly or risk being overwhelmed completely.
“Is that all you’ve got, Eira?” Selene taunts, her voice cold and mocking. “I expected more from the prince’s disciple. What an embarrassment!”
I bite back a retort, focusing instead on regaining my footing. I won’t let her bait me. I won’t let her break my concentration.
“Eirabella, don’t let her intimidate you!” Master Gavrik says, a beacon of support in the sea of hostility. “Remember your training with Prince Rylan. Focus!”
His words give me a sliver of hope, something to cling to as I fight to hold my ground. My magic flickers to life, water forming along the edge of my staff as I channel my energy into it. I need every advantage I can get, and if they want to see what I’m capable of, then so be it.
Selene’s eyes flash with surprise as I point my staff, aiming a stream of water directly at her, my movements faster and more aggressive than before. For a moment, I think I might actually be gaining ground. But then she shifts her stance, her expression hardening as she ducks the water.
Summoning a huge wave of water from the nearby fountain, I move it toward Selene in an attempt to throw her off balance. The water surges forward, forming a tidal wave that crashes toward her, but Selene doesn’t even flinch. With a fluid motion, she redirects the water, turning my own attack against me. The wave crashes back, and I barely manage to push it away with a messy block, the water splashing harmlessly to the side.
“Is that the best you can do?” she sneers, her voice dripping with contempt. “A little splash of water? Pathetic.”
She retaliates with a surge of her own, the water forming into a whip-like tendril that snaps toward me with blinding speed. I react instinctively, raising my hand to conjure a shield of ice. The whip cracks against the ice with a force that rattles my bones, and I feel the shield begin to crack under the pressure. Damn, how does she have so much power?
“Focus, Eira!” Doran shouts, his voice full of urgency. “Don’t let her overpower you!”
But it’s easier said than done. Selene presses her advantage, her staff weaving intricate patterns in the air as she combines her combat skills with her mastery of water. She sends another tendril of water snaking towards me, and this time I counter with another tall wave, freezing the water in mid-air as a shield. Her water tendril shatters my ice shield into shards showering over her, but Selene is already moving, spinning her staff over her head, redirecting the shards as she drives me back.
I try to push her back with a spray of water blades, but Selene’s control over the element is too strong. She splits my barrage of weapons in two with a precise gesture, sending the water crashing harmlessly to the sides. Her mastery is evident in every move, every flick of her wrist, and I can feel my strength waning with each passing moment.
Master Kaelen nods to Mistress Manoram, and I see them exchange a look—one that makes my heart twist with fear.
“Selene, time to end it,” Master Kaelen commands.
Selene steps forward, her staff raised high, and with a sharp movement, she brings it down. A torrent of water follows, crashing down on me. I react instinctively, raising my arms to summon a barrier of ice, trying to hold back the force of the water. But it’s too much. The weight of the water presses down on my shield, cracking it, forcing me to my knees.
I can feel the edges of my control slipping, my magic sputtering as the fatigue sets in. I conjure a row of ice pillars to helpme push against the shield to fight against Selene’s brute strength. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my vision tunnelling as I fight to keep up with Selene’s relentless assault. But no matter how hard I push, I’m losing, and they know it. I dig deeper, pushing myself beyond exhaustion, beyond the limits of my magic. I summon every ounce of strength I have left, refusing to let them see how close I am to breaking.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice something—the air is shifting. Mistress Manoram is mouthing something, her eyes intensely focused on me. Something is making the air thicken with moisture, pressing down on me, making it harder to breathe, harder to think. My chest tightens as if a heavy weight is pressing down, suffocating me.
“They’re cheating!” Doran yells, his voice cutting through the chaos, but neither Master Kaelen nor Mistress Manoram stops.
Doran steps forward, his expression darkening as he watches the exchange. “Master Kaelen, this is too much. It’s her first lesson!”
“Stay out of this, Doran,” Master Kaelen snaps, his eyes never leaving the fight. “She needs to learn her limits.”
“She’s close to burning out!” Doran insists, his voice rising in alarm. “You’re pushing her too hard!”
