Camilla fled down the tunnel, down into the undercroft, away from all those people, and back out into the daylight beyond the stadium, legs pumping, lungs sucking in enough air to make her dizzy.
Her father had been watching. The whole world had been watching.
She ran across the deserted campus, yet nowhere was far away enough, empty enough, for her. Every building, hell, the whole existence of the campus within the barrier, was a reminder. Everyone knew her. Everyone knew of her. She could hear them whispering already, snickering behind their hands. She'd lost. She'd lost.
She reached the far side of campus and kept running. If she could escape she'd be fine. Yes, she just had to get to somewhere where no one knew her.
She ran out into the field beyond the Richter Building and-
-smacked her forehead and nose against the wall that marked the shell of the pocket dimension. She bounced off and fell on her ass, stunned. She was suddenly aware of the shell ringing the entire campus, and that they were locked in here for another two weeks.
There was no escape.
She curled up into a fetal position, closing her eyes, putting her hands over her ears and digging her fingers into her scalp, fully aware that she was visible from across the field. It didn't matter. It didn't fucking matter. If she just lay here she didn't have to talk to anyone or deal with any of it. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. None of them mattered. They might see her and think she was crazy but it didn't matter because maybe she was crazy and she didn't care anyway because it couldn't get any worse than this. God, why didn't someone come and hold her?
She was crying and then she realized she was crying and realized what she was doing and that if anyone saw her like this on top of everything else she'd probably just kill herself. The silence would be so, so, sweet.
People might be coming across campus looking for her. She couldn't stay here, let them see her like this.
She stood and ran back towards campus, dizzy from too much oxygen. Her feet were leading her to the only place in the world she could maybe get away from the prying eyes. She ran through the halls and up the stairs and into her and Grace's dorm, locking and bolting it behind her. She threw herself onto her bed and drew the covers up over her.
The panic subsided enough for the reality of what she'd done to hit her, really hit her.
She'd lost.
He'd disown her. It was that simple. He'd disown her and cut her off and she'd be nameless and adrift. Maybe she'd be free then, but they'd all whisper about her. The whole world would whisper about what a failure she'd been, about what a joke she was, about how D'Angelo's daughter just hadn't cut it. How could she ever face him? How could she ever face any of them?
Something buzzed, breaking her trance. She looked over at her night-table. Her phone was vibrating. She'd left it here this morning so it wouldn't be a distraction.
Out of impulse she checked what it was.
It was him. The one person she dreaded yet needed the most. She had no choice but to pick it up.
"I'm sorry, daddy," she sniffed, but she couldn't hold herself back. She bawled. "I'm sorry! I lost. I let you down. I'm a failure," she cut herself off, suppressing her sobs, anxious for a response, any response to break this torture.
"Oh, Camilla, dear..." Her father sounded sad. Oh God, he was going to disown her. He was going to chastise her.
"You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. The day you were born was the happiest day of my life. You can never let me down. I will always be proud of you no matter what you do."
Camilla choked. He had to be lying. "But I lost!"
"I don't care about that."
What?
"I care about you. I'm very proud of you, of the young lady you've become. The tournament doesn't matter."
Camilla was speechless. He had to be lying, pulling her leg. "But you won the tournament. And I'm your daughter! I had to win!"
"I can see why you might think that. I..." Her father sounded uncertain. "I haven't always been the best father, and looking back, I made some bad choices that have affected you. I want you to be happy. I want you to do what makes you happy. It doesn't sound like Tisdale has been good for that. I kept you from magic these past few years so that you wouldn't feel pressured to become a mage, to be like me. You don't have to be like me. I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be happy, and it doesn't sound like you're happy right now. Watching you run out of the stadium wrenched my heart, dear. It wrenched my heart."
Camilla blinked. Her father sounded close to tears. Antonio D'Angelo, crying? She tried to think of the last time she'd seen him cry, but all she conjured were vague impressions of him holding her when she had been little. She started crying again.
"I don't think this is good for you, and that's my fault. It really is. I'm sorry. I've been very selfish in raising you myself, you know. I hope you'll forgive me someday. But I just couldn't give you up, I loved you too much, even though it might have been the best thing for you. I wanted to, almost, give you a life away from the Order and me and magic, but I just couldn't give you up. That was very selfish of me. I'm going to try and be better. If you don't want to be there anymore, just say the word. The day the term ends I will come and get you and we can leave and you never have to go back there. I'll take a sabbatical from the Council, maybe just leave, and we can go and travel the world, if you want. Or if you want to we can just live in Vancouver and you can go to high school and you don't have to be around those people anymore."
"What? Daddy, no!" Camilla cried.
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"If you want to stay, that's okay too."
It did sound good. Fantastical. But maybe a little too fantastical. Leaving it all behind. Living a quiet, normal life. Maybe for a while. Maybe. But she didn't think she could really give it up.
She looked out at the window at the campus. Two weeks until the end of the term. Two weeks she had to be here no matter what. Okay. She could do this. She'd stay until the end of the term and then she could make a decision then.
"When the term ends, I'll decide," she said.
"Okay."
"But you're really not disappointed I lost the tournament?" She asked, biting her nails.
"Camilla, dear, you got disqualified for being too strong." Antonio D'Angelo chuckled. Some life had entered his voice. "Look, if the term ends and you still want to pursue magic, that's fine, but here is something you, as my daughter, have to understand. You're not like other students. I wasn't either when I went through, though it took me a long time to really understand that. You can't judge yourself by the same metrics as them. The tournament is good for people who are around average, but you're not average Camilla. You're special. Like me. I do most of my work in the magical realm because if I were to work magic in a city it would be far too destructive. I would make a terrible Ranger."
"Don't say that."
"It's true. I'd be awful. Just destroying buildings, causing massive property damage every time some poor marginal creature crossed over. Does that mean I'm a bad mage? No, it just means I am in a different bracket than other people. That goes the same for you. But that doesn't mean you need to pressure yourself to be a mage."
"Okay, I think I understand."
"Do you feel alright?"
"A little better."
"Well, turns out I'm good for something after all. I wish I was there to give you a hug. I can't wait to see you at the end of the term."
"Me too!" Camilla smiled.
"I love you, so, so much."
"I love you too."
"Call me if you need anything."
"Okay, I will. Bye!"
"Bye!"
She hung up, and rolled over and looked out the window.
For a time she didn't see campus or the buildings or any of the people now milling about. For a time she just gazed at the sun as it was coming out from behind the clouds.
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Tanaka stalked back through the quiet, cool undercroft. His ears were ringing.
"D'Angelo has been disqualified for use of lethal force. Tanaka wins!" Went through his head over and over.
He could still feel the heat of D'Angelo's spell on thee left side of his face. They'd told him to go to the triage, but he went right past it without realizing, too absorbed in the fight.
He was breathing heavily without realizing it.
D'Angelo...
He'd built it up in his head the entire week. Anticipation drove him to train with a fervour he hadn't had since the Old Man's farm. He'd been ravenous to finally let loose, finally have someone who could challenge him, who could dance with him, who he couldn't just dispatch with halfhearted intensity. There'd been that small voice telling him that she'd disappoint him too, but oh, no. No, D'Angelo hadn't disappointed.
What a fight.
And those bastards had cut it off just as it was getting good, just when he'd forgotten everything in his life but his opponent and the automatic battle calculus running through his mind. Just when he'd started to finally feel alive.
His whole body was thrumming, his mind whirring. Old, cobwebbed machinery suddenly ground to life again, suddenly showed him the full extent of what was possible, showed him electric heights he'd never even dreamt existed.
Tanaka let out a little laugh. What had he been doing all this time? What had he been wasting himself doing? He was alive! Hahahahhaha. AHAHHAHAHAHA. Tisdale was a goddamn cage! But he'd spread his wings today, shattering the crusted mould that had covered them. Damn them for cutting that short.
Where was D'Angelo? She'd run out of the arena quickly. He needed more. Man, he needed more. He was greedy with desire.
"Tanaka!" A voice called out behind him.
He turned. It was the woman with the short blond hair, VP Leslie.
"You're needed back for the presentation of the victory stole."
Tanaka didn't know what the hell she was talking about.
Oh yeah, he'd won.
What a stupid, shitty victory. The Old Man wouldn't be pleased, and for once, Tanaka agreed with him. But he felt too good to argue.
He followed the woman back into the arena.
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Disaster.
Jacob didn't even realize he was clutching his head in his hands as VP Leslie and the other members of the judging committee descended on the duel.
"D'Angelo has been disqualified for use of lethal force. Tanaka wins!"
Not like this.
Camilla bolted from the arena. Jacob winced. She'd be distraught. Or worse.
He couldn't believe it was over and had ended like that. His jaw had been on the floor for the entire match. Even Archie, who never stopped calling things out while people were fighting had been stunned into silence. He'd only said one thing the entire time, in a whisper at the beginning:
"I told you they were holding back..."
But what a terrible way for it to end. Jacob knew Tanaka well enough to know he wouldn't be happy with it.
He watched the superficial victory ceremony in mute shock, mind on Camilla. He wanted to get up, go, do something, anything, to make sure she was alright. But should he? Would she want to speak to him right now? Would he just make it worse?
He could feel himself beginning to tumble down the well of indecision, so he forced himself to stand up. He was still her friend, even if she wasn't his, and right now, he thought she needed a friend, even a shitty one.
He told the others he was going to go check on her. Grace gave him a look, but he wasn't sure if it was encouraging or the opposite.
He left the seating area and entered the undercroft. Yes, this was the right thing to do. He could go see how she was doing and apologize again. He'd thought about putting it off, but that hadn't exactly turned out well last time. He'd learned his lesson.
He left the stadium and angled towards Schumann Hall, figuring he'd try her dorm before randomly searching the deserted campus. He entered the empty Schumann Hall, made his way up to her and Grace's dorm room, and knocked on the door.
No answer.
He tried again, just to be sure. Just as he was about to leave, the door opened a crack and her face peered out.
She scowled at him. "What do you want?"
"I came to see how you were doing," he said. "How are you doing?"
"Fine," she said.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
She actually didn't seem to distraught, though he could see her eyes were puffy.
"I'm sorry it had to end that way," he said. "That was bullshit."
She sighed. "It's fine. Lost because I was too strong, after all."
"Well, if anyone could lose that way, it'd be you." He said, trying to be funny.
She didn't laugh.
"If that's all," she said. "You should go."
She went to close the door but he stuck his foot in the gap.
"Camilla... I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I really am."
She looked down at his foot, then up at him, eyes flashing. "You know how easily I could blow your leg off?"
"Well, you're gonna have to to get me to leave," he braced himself, completely and utterly serious.
To his surprise, her expression softened, a faint smile ghosting across her face.
"I shouldn't have betrayed your trust. It won't happen again. I'm sorry," he said. Then added. "I really miss you. I think the gang does too."
Camilla nodded. "Apology accepted. Now, I really do have things to do, Jacob. I will see you around."
Jacob removed his foot and let her close the door in his face. He starred at the blank surface for a moment. Had he wanted her to just forgive him and things between them to go totally back to the way they were?
Yes.
He sighed. He supposed her response was about all he could realistically expect. He turned and walked away, depressed at her curtness, but at the same time glad she seemed to be doing alright.