Page 1 of Ashes of Aether

One

Firefallstowardme.Blazingflamesspreadintoferociouswings.There’snotimetoescape.

I reach through the air and gather all the aether I can. Violet sparks crackle in my fingertips, and the magic amplifies as it joins with that which flows through my blood. Together, the power is great enough to fuel my spell.

I thrust out both hands, my palms facing the oncoming fiery blast. Despite the aether dancing across my fingers, I feel the sweltering heat. It’s close enough to blister my hands and singe the edges of my cerulean adept robes.

But I will not be defeated. Not on my birthday.

“Aquir’muriz!” I shout. My voice rings through the empty arena and echoes off the highest stone seats.

The aether heeds my command. Violet sparks turn to swirling sapphires, and the spell blossoms into a shield of blue light. Flames lick at the edges and gnaw holes across the emerging magic.

My breathing slows to a halt. I fear it’s too late.

But then my shield becomes corporeal. The sapphire light materializes into a whirlpool so violent it hides the raging inferno beyond.

Flames sizzle as they meet the tumultuous water. Steam billows through the arena, and water sprays out as my shield weakens.

I grit my teeth and fuel the wall with more power, willing for it not to disintegrate and leave me entirely exposed, but the defensive spell soon falls apart. Water splashes onto the smooth marble slabs beneath my feet, and the freshly made puddles glisten in the late noon sun.

The fiery wings are also gone. Not even embers remain.

Kaely tosses her mousy brown braid over her shoulder. An ugly sneer contorts the countless freckles splattered across her cheeks. Her eyes, violet like mine, smolder with relentless hatred.

We were friends once. That seems a lifetime ago, despite it being only last year.I don’t know what I did to deserve her hatred. Surely breathing isn’t a crime?

Her glare is so venomous, with magenta flames blazing in her eyes, that I think she may kill me—though we are only dueling in the arena as part of today’s Combat Class.

My attention drifts from Kaely to our spectators. Archmage Lorette Gidston sits on the lowest row of stone seats, our peers gathered around her. Lorette’s talon-like hands rest on her lap, and her expression is a mask of cool indifference while she watches us, as if we aren’t trying to kill each other. She appears to be in her mid-thirties, but I know for a fact she is much older than that. Her platinum hair is scraped into a bun so neat not even a single strand strays from its place. While this is my second year as an adept—a mage in training—I’ve never once seen Archmage Gidston wear her hair down. I imagine she would look quite pretty with her hair falling loose across her face, softening her severe features.

Remembering that now is not the time to be scrutinizing the Archmage’s appearance, I return my attention to Kaely. But I’m a moment too late.

“Telum!”Kaely commands.

A blast of raw aether hurls from her fingers and surges toward me far quicker than the fiery wings did.

I could counter her spell with another aether shield, but I doubt mine will be powerful enough to fend off the attack. Kaely is much stronger than me. The only reason my previous spell nullified hers is because I wielded the element of water against fire. Aether is not one of the four elements, so I can’t adopt a similar strategy.

Since shielding isn’t an option either, I focus on the spot a few paces from me, far away enough that I’ll be beyond the blast’s range. I close my eyes, doing my best to ignore the magic racing straight for me, and picture my chosen position. I draw aether into my palms and let it run freely through me.

“Laxus!”

At my shout, the teleportation spell claims me, and my body glimmers away into aether dust.

I fade too slowly.

As I slip through the folds of time and space, Kaely’s blast slams into me. Pain rips through my shoulder, white-hot and blinding. Though it hurts, I’m lucky the blast caught me mid-teleport, or else the sheer force of it would have torn me apart.

I stagger from the teleportation spell, emerging exactly where I envisioned, and clutch my shoulder. No blood wells out, at least not externally, but the pressure of the blast will have probably ruptured my vessels, and my entire shoulder will be starting to blacken with a hideous bruise.

Kaely prowls toward me, and her footsteps shatter the tense silence enveloping the arena. The other adepts no longer murmur among themselves, their attention entirely focused on our deadly duel.

She raises her arm, and aether gleams in her hand like a lethal torch. My stomach broils with acid as I guess at which spell-words she may next utter. I can barely straighten, let alone defend myself.

Is this how it will end? Am I to die on my birthday?

I don’t know why Archmage Gidston hasn’t intervened yet. I’ve never seen a duel taken this far. Maybe among magi, but not among adepts.

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