Page 77 of Dragon Unleashed

“Wait, what? I don’t have earth!” My protest is swallowed by a whooshing sound. I spin on the spot. Whichever stupid professor loaded the wrong damn simulation deserves to be shot. My vision rearranges itself, almost like pixels zooming together, and I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the nausea creeping up my throat. The ground shakes and I stumble, nearly falling on my ass.

I crack one eye open, then the other.

Dust billows everywhere. The rumble from the ground reverberates so deep in my chest I can’t tell where it ends and I start. It’s like my head is underwater, the noise taking over my skull, while everything else is muted, distant.

Slowly it dies out and the dust settles. High-pitched voices shout out, terror lining every word. I feel my way toward the screams in the dusty half-light.

A group of children huddle against a red earth wall. Their clothes are smeared in dirt, and a few have open wounds. One boy clutches his arm at an unnatural angle.Not kids, why wouldthey involve kids?Chewing my lip, I take a breath, then another. This is a scenario. They’re not real children.

But I have to pass. I look over the ragtag group. Ten. There are ten kids. Okay. What else?

The ground tremors again and they cower. There’s not much I can see to help me get my bearings. There’s barely anything here. A few abandoned tools lie scattered on the floor and a bucket spilling out some metallic compound is upended nearby. We’re in some kind of mine. Holy hags, are these kids child laborers?

I cast my gaze over them again quickly. Human, definitely human. Only humans would subject children to this.

The ground trembles, and the walls bow inward under unseen pressure. Crap. There’s no exit, just a pile of rubble and collapsed pillars where it must have been. Another tremor shudders through the rock, and the rough-hewn roof creaks. We don’t have long.

“Kids, move closer to me. It’s going to be okay, but I need you to listen and do exactly what I say.” My voice sounds stronger than I feel, and after half a beat of hesitation, it works. The children scramble toward me, and I guide us to the center of the room. If you can call it a room. The next shudder throws up so much dust everyone coughs. The walls press in, the closest one crumbling like it’s sand. I flick my wrist, casting a pocket of air around us. Quickly I do a head count. Ten, still ten. I puff my cheeks out.

What did the announcement say? Air and earth? None of the others had to draw magic down their bond, but maybe I do. Fire is certainly no damn use down here. My air by itself is only buying us a little more time. Maybe my scenario is different; maybe I have to use my allegiance’s elements. I center myself and tug gently at the strands of my bond. The hollowness thatused to be there is less empty somehow, and the flicker of response makes my heart skip.

A klaxon blares.

Ten penalty points, Lorelei Bal.

So I shouldn’t use their magic? But I don’thaveearth.

I release my hold on the bond just as the ground trembles again. The rumbling is even louder, closer than before. That felt like something vital collapsing. Dirt fills the air. It forces its way into my ears, up my nose, in my mouth. Gasping for air, I try to concentrate. I pull my shirt up over my mouth, signaling for the kids to copy me.

Suddenly, the floor moves. It slumps away from us and a sinkhole appears. The abandoned tools slide toward the gaping maw. The kids scream, scrambling back. I watch in horror as a shovel is sucked down with a ferocious speed.

The smallest kid slips toward the hole, slowly at first, gaining speed as he goes. I dive forward, lying flat on my belly, stretching out. My fingers graze his, but he flails wildly, breaking my grip. His weight drags him down, and he disappears into the blackness with a shriek.

As if on cue, the rumbling ceases, leaving us with the echo of his screams.

I failed him.

A streak of daylight filters down from somewhere above. I hustle the remaining kids toward it. Itseemslike the safest spot. If anything here is safe. What do I do now? I’m drawing a blank. My heart rate kicks up a notch. This is a simulation error. I don’thaveearth magic. All I can think of is the malicious look in Professor Allegra’s eyes when she saw Zephyr’s arm around me. She wouldn’t…surely she wouldn’t.

“Don’t let us die, miss.”

“Help us.”

Their shouts fill my head as the deepest crack we’ve heard shakes the ground.

“I don’t want to die.”

I push my air out, coating it with aether, creating a makeshift barrier. I can hold this, but only for a few minutes. The panicked faces of the kids make me push every last ounce of my strength into it.It’s not real. It’s not real. It only feels real. You can fail one scenario. It’s okay.My magic buckles, and the walls collapse in on us. Soil forces its way into my nostrils, pushing into my mouth. The damp earth coats my tongue.

It feels real.

I force my aether to make a tiny sonic boom. It’s just enough. The falling earth dispels slightly. Daylight filters down from above once more. That shaft…I’m too big for it. But these kids aren’t.

One by one I force the kids to climb. I buoy them up with my magic, forcing them out, over the top, into the light. The last kid up, I steady myself. My head spins and I taste blood on my tongue. With a groan the shaft collapses, the light extinguished.

The klaxon sounds and I’m dragged from the scenario back into the hall. I heave giant breaths of sweet, sweet air. Slowly, my eyes focus. Something’s not right. Dirt falls out of my hair, and my fingernails are packed with it. My white shirt is nearly black. I bend as a racking cough takes me over.

When I finally catch enough breath to glance up, Naeve’s face says it all. Something really odd just happened. Even Farrell’s eyes hold a flicker of worry.

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