Page 95 of Tempest Blazing
This wasn't just about winning—it was about who I'd have to become to do it. I'd spent my whole life being used, discarded, told I wasn't enough. Was I really going to let them turn me into the very thing I'd fought against?
But the alternative was losing everything. Whatever the cost to my conscience, whatever compromises I had to make, I would not fail this trial.
The others were already moving on, discussing ambush positions and timing. Their voices faded into background noise as the weight of impossible choices pressed down on me.
"Tess?" Kira's voice cut through my spiral. "You with us?"
I opened my eyes to find all four of them staring at me. Waiting. Expecting compliance. Kira's knowing glance at the others confirmed what I already suspected—they all understood exactly how cornered I was.
"Yeah," I said quietly. The word scraped against my throat like broken glass, leaving behind a metallic tang that made it hard to swallow. "I'm with you."
???
The signal flare erupted overhead, bathing the arena in harsh crimson light. My heart slammed against my ribs as controlled chaos exploded around us—shouts, spell-fire, the crack of magic against stone.
This was it. My throat went dry, and for a split second, the weight of everything—the bond, the trial, the possibility of losing it all—pressed against my chest like a stone.
A familiar warmth pulsed against my chest—the echo of Thalon's presence through our bond. Even separated by distance and the trial's magical barriers, I could feel him. Golden eyes. Trust. The certainty that we belonged together.
The fake flag bounced against my hip as I sprinted northeast, away from where I truly wanted to be. My job was simpler and more ruthless: be the bait.
Every step had to count. The instructors were watching, evaluating, deciding who deserved to advance. I couldn't control whether we won, but I could control how well I performed. Even if it meant using people the way I'd been used back home.
The first pursuit came sooner than expected.
"There!" A voice cut through the din behind me. "Flag runner, southwest quadrant!"
I led my pursuer through a winding chase, deliberately taking the long route. When they rounded the corner into the fog, Tobias and Jace struck. Earth magic erupted from the ground, stone tendrils wrapping around the other applicant's legs.
Two minutes. That's all it took.
I watched from my hiding spot as their amulet shifted from blue to yellow to red. The applicant's face crumpled—not just disappointment, but devastation. Like watching their dreams shatter in real time. When the binding released them, they stumbled away, and I heard them whisper, "I was so close."
Fifteen points. One person's hope crushed. And me?
A bitter taste coated my tongue, sharp as the metallic tang of blood. The strategic part of my mind catalogued the success, but something deeper recoiled. This felt too familiar—the calculated manipulation, the way I'd positioned them perfectly for the trap. It reminded me of the time Mom sent Madison and me to charm information out of the landlord's son about upcoming inspections. The way she'd coached us on which smiles to use, which questions to ask. The proud gleam in her eyes when we delivered exactly what she needed. The same hollow victory.
The second capture went even smoother. Another applicant chased me straight into Kira's ice trap, overconfident and reckless. This one fought the bindings with desperate fury, magic sparking wildly around them as they realized what was happening. "No, no, NO!" The word tore from their throat like a physical wound.
Another twelve points. My hands shook as I wiped sweat from my forehead. The applicant's magic had been beautiful—silversparks that danced like starlight, probably some kind of celestial affinity. Now those same sparks sputtered and died as their hope crumbled.
The third was a pair who should have known better. Senna's shadow magic wrapped around them like living chains, and one of them—a girl who couldn't be older than twenty—looked like she might cry as her amulet flashed red. Her partner just stared at me with such raw betrayal that I had to turn away.
Another twenty-three points. Another piece of my soul carved away.
That's when I saw the scorch mark.
Burned into the crumbling wall like a brand. Three interlocking circles with jagged edges—frozen lightning. Anya's signature spell. Relief flooded through me so suddenly my knees nearly buckled. She was okay. She was here, fighting, still in this. I'd seen her practice it dozens of times in the training yards, watched her perfect the precise wrist movement that created those distinctive curves.
My steps faltered. The mark was fresh, the stone still warm to the touch when I pressed my palm against it. She'd been here recently. Maybe minutes ago.
Keep moving. Stick to the plan.
But my eyes were already scanning the terrain ahead, searching for more signs. There—a section of ground where the frost patterns were too geometric to be natural. Kane's elemental work, probably a defensive barrier. And beyond that, a faint shimmer in the air that could only be residual magic from a powerful spell.
They were close. So close I could almost feel them in my bones.
Longing hit me like a physical blow, sharp enough to steal my breath. I could see it so clearly—Kane's ice barriers shielding us while Anya's lightning cleared a path through our enemies, the three of us moving like we'd been born to fight together. His strategic mind directing our movements, her dark magic complementing my fire, all of us watching each other's backs the way we always did.
