Page 93 of Tempest Blazing
More names. More teams forming with obvious synergy and strategic balance. Orange armbands marked the sixth team. I watched as natural alliances were honored, as complementaryskill sets were grouped together, as everything proceeded exactly as it should—for everyone but me.
My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow. The familiar spiral of anxiety began to build, that old voice whispering that I didn't belong, that I was fooling myself, that eventually everyone would see the truth.
"Team Seven," Silvius announced, and still my name hadn't been called.
I was going to be last. Of course I was going to be last.
The seventh team was announced with bright yellow armbands—another well-balanced group with clear leadership and complementary abilities. They moved together immediately, already discussing strategy in low voices. Around the arena, teams were beginning to coalesce, finding their rhythm, preparing for whatever challenges lay ahead.
And I stood alone, waiting.
"Team Eight," Silvius finally called, his voice carrying a note of finality that made my stomach drop. "Tempest Whittaker."
My amulet appeared alongside a stark white armband that wrapped itself around my upper arm. It felt warm against my skin, but whether that was magic or just my own nervous energy, I couldn't tell.
The names that followed were faces I barely recognized. Underperformers. Wildcards. Applicants who'd struggled in the group exercises, who'd shown flashes of potential but lacked consistency. A few I'd seen stumble in combat training. One who'd been caught cheating on a written exam. Each received their own white armband, the color making us stand out starkly against the arena's darker tones.
Anya's voice carried across the space between us. "This is a gods-damned setup, and everyone knows it!"
The word carried farther than she'd intended, drawing sharp looks from some of the instructors. But she didn't back down, her chin lifting defiantly as she stared at the platform where Silvius stood.
My team—if they could even be called that—gathered in a loose, uncertain cluster. They eyed each other warily, already sensing the dysfunction. A few shot me suspicious glances, and I caught fragments of muttered conversations.
"Special treatment..."
"Doesn't even belong here..."
"Human privilege..."
The words hit hard, reinforcing every insecurity I'd ever harbored about being human in a world of ancient power and inherited magic. Each whispered comment confirmed my fears that I was an outsider playing pretend, that no matter how hard I fought or how much I proved myself, I'd always be seen as less than. The familiar ache of not belonging settled in my chest—
"Hey, at least they're talking about you," Raze's voice cut through my spiral of self-doubt. He materialized beside me with that trademark smirk. "I'm pretty sure half of them still think I'm just really tall furniture."
His words drew a reluctant smile from me, but the moment was brief. Draven appeared at my shoulder, his usual easy confidence replaced by something more serious. "Keep your head up in there," he said quietly, his hand briefly touching my arm. "You're stronger than you know."
Across the dispersing crowd, Anya caught my eye, offering a sharp nod and a fierce smile. "Don't let them break you," she called out.
Mason lingered the longest, stepping closer as the others began to move away. His dark eyes held mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten. "Trust your instincts," he said simply, but the weight behind those three words felt like a promise.
Then they were gone, pulled away to their respective teams, leaving me standing alone.
I looked at my own team—really looked at them. Seven faces, most of them strangers. A few I recognized from classes, but none I'd ever worked with closely. They stood in an awkward cluster, already fracturing into smaller groups based on species or familiarity. No natural leadership emerging. No obvious synergy.
One of them, a young mage, caught me looking and scowled. "So you're the human everyone's talking about," he said, his tone making it clear he wasn't impressed. "Hope you can actually fight, because we're not carrying dead weight."
Another teammate—a shifter whose animal form I couldn't identify—snorted. "Right. Because getting special treatment from dragons totally means she's earned her place here."
Their words cut deep, reinforcing every insecurity I'd ever harbored about being human in a world of ancient power and inherited magic. Each comment confirmed my fears that I was an outsider playing pretend, that no matter how hard I fought or how much I proved myself, I'd always be seen as less than.
Around us, the other teams were moving with purpose, their members falling into natural formations. Strategies were beingdiscussed in low, urgent voices. Magical auras were beginning to merge as teammates synchronized their power.
My team... didn't. We stood there, uncertain and divided, while the arena hummed with preparation around us.
The weight of hundreds of eyes pressed down on me from the viewing platforms. Dragons, Council members, Guild officials—all watching to see if the human could rise to the challenge or if I would crumble under the pressure.
Chapter 38
Tess
