The main arena of Aether Academy had never felt so alive.
Dawn light poured through the floating crystal skylights, turning the white sand of the combat floor into a sea of soft gold. Tiered seating rose in concentric rings—already more than half full despite the early hour. Students, instructors, even a few visiting nobles from the lower cloud cities filled the stands. Banners of every major house and academy lineage snapped in the magically controlled wind.
A low, constant hum of anticipation vibrated through the air.
Elara stood in the competitor's tunnel, heart hammering against her ribs.
Beside her, Prince Kairos looked almost bored—arms folded, posture relaxed, Glacia perched motionless on his shoulder like an ice-carved ornament. Only the faint tightening of his jaw betrayed that he felt the pressure too.
Drakon waited just behind them, wings tucked tight, tail slowly sweeping the stone floor in long, patient arcs. His presence was a steady drumbeat in Elara's chest.
They are watching, he said. Not just the crowd. Something deeper.
"I know," she whispered.
A senior student—wearing the silver armband of a tournament marshal—approached.
"Voss. Valtherion. You're match three. Paired elimination. Best of one. No killing blows, no permanent maiming. Everything else is permitted." He glanced between them. "You have three minutes to discuss strategy. After that, enter when your names are called."
He left.
Kairos turned to Elara.
"We don't have time for complicated plans," he said quietly. "So we keep it simple. Glacia opens with wide-area suppression—freezing the field, slowing their movement. Drakon counters with raw power and mobility. You and I stay mobile, never let them pin us in one spot. If they try to split us, we collapse toward each other immediately. Understood?"
Elara nodded. "And if they target the bond?"
Kairos's eyes darkened. "Then we protect the bond at all costs. Even if it means taking the hit ourselves."
A beat passed.
Elara reached out and lightly touched the back of his wrist—just long enough for him to feel her steady pulse.
"We won't lose," she said.
He looked down at her hand, then back up to her face.
Something in his expression softened, just for a second.
"No," he agreed. "We won't."
The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, magically amplified.
"Match three of the first round! In the eastern tunnel—Elara Voss and Prince Kairos Valtherion!"
The crowd roared.
They stepped out into the light.
Across the arena, their opponents were already waiting.
Seraphina stood with arms crossed, flame tiger pacing restlessly at her side. Beside her was Darius Veyne—a tall, broad-shouldered third-year who had been allowed to participate in the freshman bracket as a "demonstration opponent." His pet was a massive obsidian-scaled rhinoceros beetle the size of a carriage, mandibles crackling with black lightning.
The crowd noise swelled even louder.
Seraphina smirked across the sand.
"Should've chosen the winning side, village girl."
Elara didn't answer.
She simply met Seraphina's gaze and let Drakon's presence speak for her.
The arena marshal raised both hands.
"Begin on the gong!"
A single, deep toll rang out.
The fight exploded.
Glacia launched skyward with a piercing cry. Her wings snapped open and a blizzard surged outward—razor-edged snowflakes spiraling in every direction. The temperature dropped twenty degrees in two heartbeats. Frost raced across the sand like living veins.
Seraphina's tiger roared and answered with a wall of fire that clashed against the ice in a violent explosion of steam.
At the same moment, Darius's beetle charged—low, unstoppable, black lightning arcing between its horns.
Drakon moved.
He didn't leap into the air—not yet. Instead he surged forward along the ground, wings half-spread for balance, claws tearing long furrows in the sand. Elara sprinted at his side, one hand pressed to his shoulder, drawing verdant energy into her body until her skin glowed faintly.
The beetle aimed straight for her.
Kairos was already moving—sliding left, drawing a glittering longsword of pure ice from thin air. He met the beetle's charge head-on, blade flashing in a crescent arc that carved a long, smoking scar across the creature's armored head.
The beetle screeched and swung its horn.
Kairos twisted aside—barely—but the glancing blow still sent him skidding across the sand.
Elara felt the impact through their fledgling team resonance.
She didn't hesitate.
"Drakon—now!"
Drakon roared and launched upward, wings beating once, twice. A torrent of emerald wind spiraled down from his body, wrapping around Elara like a living cloak. She kicked off the ground and flew—not gracefully, not perfectly, but fast enough.
She landed on Drakon's back mid-air.
They dove.
Straight toward Seraphina.
The flame tiger leaped to intercept—claws wreathed in white-hot fire.
Drakon twisted at the last second, presenting his armored flank instead of his vulnerable underbelly. The tiger's claws scored deep, molten gouges across emerald scales.
Pain flared through the bond.
Elara gasped.
But Drakon didn't slow.
He snapped his jaws sideways and caught the tiger by the scruff—not to bite through, but to hurl it sideways with bone-rattling force.
Seraphina screamed in outrage and flung both hands forward. A pillar of flame twenty feet tall roared toward them.
Elara thrust both palms down.
Verdant energy surged—vines thick as a man's arm erupted from the sand beneath Seraphina's feet, spiraling upward in an instant cage. The flames slammed into the barrier and hissed, blackening the vines but not breaking through.
Seraphina snarled and leaped backward, calling more fire.
Behind them, Kairos and the beetle were locked in a brutal dance.
Every time the beetle charged, Kairos danced aside, leaving trails of ice that slowed its movements. Glacia swooped low again and again, peppering the beetle's joints with freezing darts.
But the beetle was too durable. Too relentless.
And then it happened.
The beetle reared—lightning gathering between its mandibles in a crackling sphere the size of a wagon wheel.
It aimed not at Kairos.
It aimed at Drakon.
Elara felt the shift in intent a heartbeat before the blast fired.
"Kairos!" she screamed.
He didn't hesitate.
He threw himself between the lightning and Drakon—arms spread, ice sword discarded.
Glacia dove in front of him at the same instant.
The lightning struck.
A blinding white flash.
A sound like the sky tearing open.
When the glare faded, Glacia was on the ground—wings scorched, feathers smoking, one eye closed in pain.
Kairos was on one knee, right arm hanging limp, uniform sleeve burned away, skin blistered and raw.
But he was still conscious.
Still breathing.
And his left hand was already rising, summoning another blade of ice.
Elara felt something snap inside her chest—not breaking, but unlocking.
Rage. Fear. Protectiveness. All of it poured down the bond.
Drakon felt it too.
Their resonance—still incomplete, still raw—flared brighter than it ever had.
Elara slid from Drakon's back and landed between him and the beetle.
She didn't think.
She simply reached.
Verdant light erupted from her entire body—bright enough to drown out the morning sun.
Vines exploded from every inch of sand within twenty feet.
They weren't normal vines.
They pulsed with dragon-life—thick, armored, tipped with crystalline thorns that glowed the same emerald as Drakon's scales.
The vines lashed out like living whips.
They wrapped the beetle's legs, its horns, its thorax.
They tightened.
The beetle screamed—a sound like tearing metal.
It struggled, lightning arcing wildly.
But the vines held.
Drakon landed beside Elara, wings spread protectively.
Together they pushed.
The vines constricted one final time.
Crack.
The beetle collapsed—alive, but unconscious, legs folded beneath it.
Across the arena, Seraphina stared in stunned silence.
Her tiger was still pinned inside the blackened vine cage, growling but unable to break free.
The arena marshal's voice rang out.
"Match concluded! Victory to Elara Voss and Prince Kairos Valtherion!"
The crowd erupted.
Some cheered.
Some sat in stunned silence.
A few—very few—looked distinctly unhappy.
Elara dropped to her knees, suddenly exhausted.
Drakon lowered his head beside her, warm breath washing over her face.
We did it.
Kairos staggered over.
His right arm hung uselessly, but he extended his left hand toward her.
Elara took it.
He pulled her to her feet.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then, very quietly, so only she could hear:
"You're terrifying, Voss."
She managed a shaky laugh.
"You're not exactly harmless yourself."
Glacia limped over and pressed her scorched head against Kairos's side.
He winced, but laid his good hand on her neck.
Seraphina released her tiger and stalked across the sand.
She stopped a few paces away.
Her face was pale with fury, but something else flickered in her eyes—grudging respect, maybe even fear.
"This isn't over," she said.
Elara met her gaze evenly.
"I know."
Seraphina turned and walked away.
Kairos watched her go.
Then he looked down at Elara.
"We need to talk," he said. "Tonight. Somewhere private."
Elara nodded.
Because the black feather.
Because the lightning that had been aimed at Drakon.
Because the way certain people in the stands had not cheered.
Because something was coming.
And it was coming faster now.