It’s my first class, and I’m already battling the urge to question every one of his rules.Don’t upset your professor.Angie’s advice keeps me still. Regardless, I’m fucked unless I figure out more of this magic rather than summoning photos.
“Now, who’s ready for a challenge?” He takes his seat. Two hands raise, and my heart plummets, seeing one of them is–“Tish?” he deadpans, and her deathly orange gaze shifts to me.
Panic slithers around my lungs, tightening and holding the air captive. “I want to challenge her,” she orders. Nothing but malice coats her tongue, and I grip the ruffles of my skirt to keep from reacting out of fear. Marcel declines her request, shaking his head and moving a few loose strands from his face. “Why not?” she asks. The bite in her tone is like thick acid she can’t keep down.
“Are you questioning me?” He narrows his glare.
“N–no, I’m not,” she stammers, “but you said we can challenge anyone here.” He gives me a once-over before returning his destructive leer towards her.
“Rule number three. You can’t challenge the same student for a day.” He points behind him. “Next time don’t waste yours on a mind game you can’t deliver.” Giving a daring squint, she leans back, acknowledging defeat, and folds her arms. This isn’t over by a long-shot. I may have gotten lucky today, but tomorrow will unfold a different story.
I mouth, “thank you.” He returns a subtle nod then moves on.
“Morgan, your hand was raised.”
“Hell, yeah. I’d like to challenge Ryan. We’re establishing ranks within our House, and he’s been talking a lot of shit.” He offers the guy next to him a wide smile, both becoming hyper and bumping fists.
“House Life against one another.” Marcel grins. “Per House rules, no challenging the same fay for a week.” They both nod and Marcel claps. “Okay then, come up front.”
Simply flicking his wrist, a burst of energy spreads throughout the room, pushing back my two neatly braided plaits, which I spent an eternity perfecting, and forcing my skirt higher up my thighs.
Green magic covers the entire class, shifting our desks into stands made of marble that stagger down into a pit of sand. The walls thenbreak apart, transforming into elegant podiums, towering high above as the open air flutters by.
Holy shit, those are the dragons from the other day.Somehow, we went from being indoors to sitting outside within a colosseum, beneath an array of two-toned clouds. Gray and blue. I stare in disbelief, mouth gaped, energy tingling over my skin as I watch the majestic beasts soar above. I’m at a loss for words. We’re surrounded by open fields, and off in the distance is Rebirth Academy.
Students cheer, snagging my attention, and again, I find Tish’s ungodly scowl. She drags a finger across her throat, and my palms heat at the motion, balling into fists before I look away. I’ve been practicing my magic, creating home decor and knickknacks.
Oh, you need a pencil? I have a shit ton of those. How about a pen? Yep, have those as well. *Sigh* I’m still understanding my magic, but without knowing how to use it in combat, I don’t stand a chance.
“Rules of the match…” Marcel’s rugged tone echoes, pulling me free of unhealthy thoughts. “Fight until one submits, passes out, or is unable to continue. Use everything you have, and pray you don’t die while doing so.”
“Die?” I say aloud.
“Not submitting in defeat may cause you to perish,” a cute but grainy voice interjects behind me. “So, it’s better to submit and fight another day.” I turn, realizing it’s Ashlyn from the Awakening and become star struck, giving a nervous wave and faint smile.
“You’re, Ashlyn, right?”Of course she is. Stop being weird.
“And you’re, Kyra. Nice to meet you.” She smiles back then gestures her head below.
We are about twenty feet above the sand pit at an angle, and Marcel announces the match is starting. A red number five glimmers over both competitors, counting down, and I steady myself in anticipation. “Three–Two–One–Zero!” Everyone cheers. The zero bursts into green glitter before fading out, prompting Morgan and Ryan tobegin. They charge one another, flinging magic and screaming like banshee warriors.
Ryan launches himself skyward with light beams detonating from his palms. Loosening the tie around his chocolate brown hair, Morgan stills as Ryan’s shadow falls upon him. Excitement stretches his smile. He summons a glass-like dome around him, made from pure yellow light, as though he harnessed the sun.
I sit in awe, both legs now animatedly jittering in suspense. Using gravity’s momentum, Ryan tucks his arms and plummets, slamming against the shield with tremendous force. Laughter rings from inside it as dust kicks up. With Morgan’s magic still intact, Ryan lets off a barrage of punches, his fists sounding like gunfire with each strike.
The dust settles and frustration teeters over his expression from the hollow laughter. Jumping back, Ryan’s palms target the shield, and beams erupt at light speed, silencing Morgan as he winces at the pressure of keeping his summon intact.
Realization trembles his arms. Cracks spread rapidly, and now Ryan dawns a smile, knowing it’s only a matter of time. With one last burst, the dome shatters, throwing Morgan into the wall circling them, and Ryan advances. His hair flutters in the wind from his speed.
I’m mesmerized. Their magic being used for more than getting laid has my mind exploding. I inspect my hands with thoughts of wielding such abilities.
The crowd “ooh’s” from Morgan sidestepping Ryan’s strike, landing one of his own and crumpling Ryan to his knees in agony from a throat punch. “I got you now,” Morgan roars, twisting his fist thickly into the length of Ryan’s milky brown mane. In one motion, he smashes Ryan’s head into the wall before tossing him high with astonishing strength. Although Morgan is much smaller, it matters not when it comes to magic, apparently.
As Ryan’s unconscious body rises to its highest peak, he descends headfirst, blurring the mahogany tone of his skin. Morgan raiseshis hands, pulling from the ground spikes of yellow light beneath the falling body. A female screams with worry, “Watch out Ryan!”
“Shit, this might be the end,” I utter, on the edge of my seat.
“Don’t count him out just yet,” Ashlyn responds. Conflicted, I view Ryan’s body closing in on the spikes. Wanting to look away, anticipation forces me to endure.
