“Where are they?” Trini Alquin whined and shouted, body shivering from the cold winter night. The dewy tang of dry winter frost sat on the tip of her tongue.

Beside her, Seks wrapped his wing around her in a desperate attempt to stave off the cold. “I'm sure they're on their way. Pempe and Kingston went to find them, after all.”

“That's just it! What if Shjacky and Ishumi gets back but the two boys gets lost? Do we send another search party out? And what if it happens again? Do we keep going around in circles until we're dead? Or worst. Hungry?”

“Love, I think you're overreacting.”

She bounced in frustration. “I'm freezing! I want to go back to my room!”

Behind them and out the lights of the tunnel they were in, cheers and commotions echoed into the enclosed space. Outside, almost every single citizen of Rubicum along with tourists and travellers who had come from across the world to witness the annual event had gathered. The class, along with a minority of the rest of their year's students were gathered within one of the many tunnels that lead out into the park, awaiting their cue to make the opening ceremony entrance. Along the walls were cryst lamps that flickered with residue of fire magic, bringing both a gentle ember glow to the room as well as a petite provider of heat.

Trini fleeted between the warmth of lamps and company, unable to stand the waiting tension.

Quinton and Joachim approached the couple, the former saying, “Even if they get here, we're not moving out until we get the signal. So you're going to freeze for a while yet, regardless.”

“But Shjacky's been our resident fire mage since Pip left,” Trini whined. “She could make it warmer here, right? Lua's so stingy, she's not going to use her magic for something like this!”

“Well,” Quinton scratched his hair, stumped. “You're not wrong there.”

As they spoke, approaching crunches of steps turned their heads deeper down the lamp-lit tunnel. Shjacky, Ishumi, Pempe, and Kingston all approached them casually. Joachim rushed up to Ishumi and the pair quickly signed out their silent conversation.

Quinton asked, “What happened? Where were you two?”

“Sorry,” Shjacky apologised with a playfully stuck out tongue. “I was meeting my mother and sort of lost track of the time.”

Quinton's tone lowered, and Trini could swear she heard maybe a pinch of gravity. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Shjacky replied with a smile. “We hashed things out. Still, never thought of you as one to worry about me! Oh! I'm practically melting inside!” The girl proceeded to melt into the ground with legs of jelly.

Quinton scoffed. “I'll get back to the front.” He turned and walked away, mumbling something along the line of disbelief at his own worry.

Shjacky chuckled. “He's cute when he worries.”

Trini ran up and hugged her friend. “Shjacky! It's freezing!”

The former laughed. “There, there. Mistress Loyard has it all figured out.”

From under her white coat, Shjacky pulled out her umbrella, opening the canopy over them. With a gentle twirl of a her dextrous fingers and a push of seither, heat emitted from the umbrella top, showering them with the warmth of fire magic.

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“Ahhh...” Trini let out in comfort. “That's so much better. I miss Pip.”

“Well, Pip's not here, so you'll have to make do with me, sadly.”

A cheering roar erupted from outside and the whole class turned towards the blinding exit light, though all they could see was the empty field they were about to step out to.

With a clever wind cryst-based invention called a microphone, the announcer's voice bellowed into the stands and echoed into the enclave. “Ladies and gentlemen, kins and kings, welcome to the Fifth Annual Spellblade Tourney! I am your commentator, Courtney Woods! We have a record breaking amount of entries this year from all corners of the world, but I would most like to thank all of you for coming out in this freezing winter to support this momentous occasion!”

The encouraging shouts grew louder, shaking the very ground they stood on, dropping specks of dust upon their head from the ceiling. Some of which burnt in erupted sparks upon contact with Shjacky's umbrella.

“As you all know, the Spellblade Tourney was created as a joint initiative between King Adam of Aleynonlia and Lady Rubi of Rubicum, as a way to remember the strength and virtues of those that sacrificed and fought with honour and valour during the war. As such, we are very proud to introduce to you some of the current generation's best Spellblades, many of which have made a name by using their powers to protect those that can't protect themselves. They serve their countries. They put their lives on the lines. They are, alongside many others who stand to protect you, heroes! I give you, everybody, your tourney contestants!”

Seks voiced, “That's our cue.”

“Alright everyone!” Pempe shouted. “Let's go!”

Along with every other contender that had lined up in the tunnel, they began moving out, following the lead of the older independent Spellblades that stepped into the limelight first and Class B after. By the time they took their fist pace out, they were all fighting the urge to shield their faces from the blinding flood torches that blasted the darkness of night away. The roar of the crowd was even fiercer out in the open.

The surrounding tree houses were all converted to include bridges of interconnected seating stands. But even for those that did not manage to get a high-top view of the festivities, there were thousands of additional spaces on the ground to jump and cheer from. Flags of different countries waved in support of their own contestants. It was a blinding field of colours coated in pristine snowfall.

Trini wowed at the sight but could not help but be drawn to Aleynonlia's crowd in the tree seats. Prominently dressed in bright gold, maroon, and jade noble coats, surrounded by a small convoy of armoured guards, two noblemen sat with arms crossed, expunging an air of annoyance as impatient as an unburied corpse.

Apparently, they drew more attentions than Trini thought, for even Shjacky commented, “What's with those two over there? Did a bird stoned them?”

Pempe, who had been walking besides them commented, “They look about to throw a rock.”

“Yes, well,” Trini replied in spite. “Nobles are often like that. Can't appreciate anything that isn't centred on them or around them. Perhaps the most selfish and elitist people in the world.”

“Ouch,” Pempe replied. “Your tone makes it seems like they've killed your family or something.”

“Close,” she answered. “They are my family. My parents, to be exact.”

“You're a noble?”

“Oh? Did I forget to mention that?” she snipped back. “Must have slipped my mind on the account of trying to never talk about it.”

“Sorry,” Pempe apologised.

Seks explained, “Rough history. Don't think now's a good time.”

She added, “I don't think any time is a good time.”

Shjacky came closer to her and held out her warm umbrella, further dispelling the cold. Trini muttered a silent thanks. The former girl looked beyond comfortable in the crowd and celebration, waving ladylike to all the bystanders.

The concession of contenders circled the field, being joined by more of their counterparts as they crossed a tunnel after another filled with Spellblades.

Courtney Woods did her job, commentating in an inquiring tone, “And processing in a mass of Aleynonlia's national colours are their Spellblade Academy's graduating class for the year. These youngsters will be going up against some of the finest Spellblades in the world, which includes some of their own peers and seniors. Will the school finally take home a top three win this year? While their students have been known to put up one Titan of a fight, they have yet to clench a victory.”

Trini muttered, “We'll show you victory.”

Kingston laughed. “That's the spirit! We'll go up swinging!”

Seks corrected, “I think the phrase is 'We'll go down swinging'.”

“Not if we want to win.”

The entire procession circled the field and formed a chain of oval. They were facing a mass of their possible opponents. Their seniors. Their predecessors. Men, women, and kin, all with years of experience on them. But instead of fear or insecurity, the students of Class C only felt an unbridled excitement. The seither felt unusually thick in the air. Trini wondered if it was from such a large gathering of Spellblades. If that was the strength of all the magic in the world coming together, she felt proud to be a part of it.

“Seven years ago,” Courtney Woods began. “The Second War of Gods came to an end on this date. We have all lost many during that time. But today we come together to honour and celebrate those that saw us through those hard times. Their resistance, their strength, their sacrifices. We are here to remember to be vigilant against the dangers that the universe throws against us. We are here to remind ourselves to stand together. Not as humans, hume, elves, or drakins. But as Tearhans.”

Together with the rest of the competitors and as if on a timer, the Spellblades simultaneously saluted, bowed, or greeted. The crowd shrank to silence.

The contestants called out, “May the best Spellblade win!”

“The tourney is now open!”

A loud cheer echoed from the crowd, thumping excitement, joy, and sheer resistance to defeat deep into their chests.