Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Pyrin roars, engaging the legacies' elementals to keep them from overwhelming me. Through our connection, I can feel his strain, his essence depleting with each passing second.
"You're good," Kienna admits as she closes in, her air magic swirling around her in visible currents. "But you're also exhausted. How long can you last?"
Not long, if I'm honest. The Crucible has already pushed me to my limits, and I can feel my reserves of both physical and magical strength waning. But I don't need to last long. I just need to reach that blade.
I feint toward the earth legacy, then pivot at the last second, driving my shoulder into his chest. He stumbles back, momentarily breaking their formation. I capitalize on the opening, sliding between them toward the dais.
I know touching the blade will end this. All I need to do is get my hands on it.
Kienna reacts instantly, conjuring a wall of compressed air that slams into me like a battering ram. I fly backward, crashing into the stone steps with enough force to drive the breath from my lungs.
Pain lances through my ribs—broken, probably—but I push to my feet, ignoring it. Through our tether, I can feel Nessa's presence growing dimmer. She's slipping away.
No. Not like this. Not after everything.
Something shifts inside me, like a dam breaking. I've spent years controlling my power, leashing it, hiding what I'm truly capable of. But there's no point in restraint anymore. Not when Nessa's life hangs in the balance.
I draw on my fire essence, all of it, letting it flood through my veins like liquid heat. Fire erupts across my skin, dancing over my arms and chest despite the downpour. The rain evaporates before it can touch me, creating a cocoon of steam.
The legacies take an instinctive step back, eyes widening at the display.
Kienna scoffs. "You think a light show intimidates us, Hollow? We're legacies. We've trained our entire lives for this."
"So have I," I reply simply.
What follows isn't a fight so much as a calculated destruction. I move with singular purpose, each strike precise, each step bringing me closer to the dais. The earth tries to circle me, but I rush him, flames exploding from me like wings that extend and wrap in behind him, forcing him closer into the blaze of my power.
He flinches, trying to raise earth to protect himself, but my sword is faster. It cuts through the stone and his guard in a single blow, triggering his stasis and leaving me alone with Kienna.
She catches me with a blade to the back of my thigh, but I barely feel it as I whirl to face her. Through the tether, Nessa's presence has grown so faint it's like trying to hear a whisper in a hurricane.
Pyrin bellows in rage, his form swelling with my unleashed power, flames consuming Kienna’s air elemental in a rush of hissing steam.
Kienna backs up the steps, her eyes hard but not without a flicker of fear. A hint of desperation touches her words. “You know it’s cursed, don’t you? Take that blade, and you’ll die before graduation. It’s how it always goes.”
"I've been cursed my whole fucking life," I reply, advancing on her.
Her air magic condenses around her blade, extending its reach to twice its normal length. It slices toward me in a glittering arc, faster than most eyes could track.
But I see it. I've been training for this moment since I was old enough to hold a weapon. I sidestep, pivoting inside her guard, and drive my elbow into her sternum with enough force to lift her off her feet. My free hand sprays an inferno of fire across her body. I see the blue light flash through the flames and cut off the spell.
The quarry falls silent except for the relentless drumming of rain and the distant rumble of thunder. Magical flames still burn in several areas, hissing and refusing to dim despite the rain.
I turn to the dais where the ceremonial blade awaits—a simple thing, really, for all the blood spilled over it. A length of polished steel with an Empire crest on the hilt.
I climb the steps, each movement a fresh agony for my battered body. My hand closes around the hilt, and I feel a pulse of ancient magic respond to my touch.
The moment I lift it from its resting place, the world around me erupts in blinding light. Magic surges, disorienting and powerful. When my vision clears, I'm standing in the central courtyard of Confluence Academy, the ceremonial blade still clutched in my hand.
One by one, I see the air distort and twist as other students appear around me. The stasis has lifted, and they’re all disoriented, straining to get back to their feet or staring wide-eyed at the courtyard in confusion.
The Crucible is over.
Instructors move among the students, cataloging survivors, treating the wounded. There will be questions about the dead windborne, about what happened in the forest, but those can wait.