Apparently, this academy doesn’t believe in easing people in.

By sunrise the next morning, we were marched to the sparring deck—an open arena rimmed with more steel walls and shielded observation glass. The air reeked of scorched metal.

They called it an assessment.

I called it an excuse to see who could break who.

“Pair up,” Rho barked. “Two-minute matches. Powers are allowed. No killing.”

That last part felt like more of a suggestion.

Mr. Turner stood above the ring, watching from behind folded arms. I could feel his stare without looking.

Most students paired up without issue. Rian waved off to a would-be partner and strolled straight into the center circle. I half-expected him to call my name.

He didn’t.

Someone else did.

“Iris and Cael,” said the instructor, glancing down at his list.

I turned to her. “You okay with that?”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I won’t go easy.”

“Didn’t ask you to.”

We stepped into the ring. She tied her dark hair back with a flick of her fingers, but kept her eyes focused on me. The air shimmered around her—she was already warming up.

The match began with a bell.

She moved first—the knife flew through the air, narrowly missing my ear as I dodged. It struck off the wall behind me, and landed on the ground.

Iris blinked out of sight and reappeared behind me. I barely ducked under her kick in time, lightning sparking from my fingertips on instinct.

“Nice reflexes,” she called.

“Was that a real knife?!” I yelled, deflecting a solid-glass shard she’d conjured mid-step.

“It’s Blunted,” she said. “Probably.” 

We traded blows, her movements constant and fluid, mine pulsing and erratic. I couldn’t land a clean hit. Every time I charged, she phased. Every time I paused, she struck.

But on the sixth exchange, I caught her trajectory and fired a burst of lightning—not at her, but at the ground.

The floor detonated upward, throwing debris into the air and breaking her focus.

I rushed in—and stopped short.

She had a blade at my throat.

I had a bolt primed in my palm.

Both of us were smiling and breathing hard.

“Draw,” she said.

I nodded.

Cheers and mutters circled the room. A few surprised looks. Maybe we weren’t supposed to last that long. Maybe we weren’t supposed to enjoy it.

Mr. Turner spoke into the comm. “Enough. Match over.”

Iris turned to me as we left the ring. “Not bad, Red Band.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but what do the colors on these bands mean anyway?” I asked.

But before we could sit down to discuss, the next match was called.

“Rian.”

Silence.

Then—

“Step forward.”

He did.

His opponent?

Leo.

They faced each other—both calm, both expressionless. The match hadn’t started, and yet I could feel the air thin. Power surged behind the scenes.  

“I hope they don’t kill each other,” I said to Iris.

The bell rang.

And chaos broke loose.