The bare branches of the ash trees budded with pinnate leaves. Announcing the start of the year’s growing cycle and the end of winter. The earlier sunrise and warmer weather inviting the students of the Academy to break their hibernation, Quinten among them. Having spent the time in total submersion in his studies, the past weeks flew by in a blur.

Today would be different. It marked a change that effectively broke him out of the routine he’d settled into like a scratchy threadbare blanket that he refused to give up, it being better than going without.

It was the end of the quarter and the first opportunity for the second-years to duel. Something they’d been forced to observe their seniors do the year prior, and now it was their turn.

Intended to assess each student’s combat potential, the findings were supposedly used to assist in their placement within the Mage Core. It was rumored that if someone showed enough promise, they were given the option of choosing their first assignment out of the Academy.

Going into the duels, Cedric and Quinten had agreed to refrain from showing any more than they had to. Preferably, no more than they’d already revealed in their day-to-day classes. It was clear by the snippets they’d overheard that the pair were prime targets. They’d chosen to hide most of their abilities. The one exception being in their private sessions with Instructor Burns. Even with their caution, the other instructors and students were expecting something special from the two year-jumpers.

Quinten was being particularly cautious after receiving an oddly worded letter from his grandfather. After reading through it several times, he’d decided to take the references to ravens, an owl, and a flight of doves as a warning. Quinten wanted to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

Cedric, however, had his own motivations to contend with. He wanted to impress Celeste. Who, after weeks of effort, had finally allowed him to court her, if only in secret. For Cedric, demonstrating his skill without giving away his full potential was going to be difficult. Like a winding path climbing up a narrow mountain ledge.

The day’s duels were set randomly and to be announced shortly. Half taking place that morning, with the remainder following after lunch.

“I’m telling you,” argued Ronan animatedly. “We have done almost no testing on what kinds of Healing could be accomplished when combined with a Mental gift. How many soldiers could be saved from taking their own lives because their body came back from war but their mind didn’t?”

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Quinten said. “I know, I know, Ronan. You don’t have to convince me. I already told you I’d let you try it on me—"

“Already worried about needing a Healer, little pyro?”

Turning in surprise at the voice, the trio were met by a small wall of bodies. Made up of more than triple their number, they fanned out behind the speaker.

Oliver Wyndham’s gaze bore into him as he tried to stare Quinten down, and to both their surprises, they discovered they were now of a height.

It’s been several months since we’ve actually spoken to each other, he thought. Seeing the smirk momentarily falter on the older boy’s face.

After that first day, they’d not had a true conversation, just the occasional “Wyndham” or “Little pyro”, a nickname that Oliver continued to use. Even though it’d long since lost its meaning to Quinten.

Refusing to take the bait, Quinten looked the group over, mostly female, but with a few male faces found among them. He was only a little surprised to see a pair of white-robed boys doing their best to remain invisible in the back. As far away from Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan as they could manage.

Irritated at being ignored, Oliver decided to change targets. His gaze tracking to Cedric. “A little birdie tol—”

“What do you want, Mage Wyndham?”

Thrown off by the abrupt interruption, Oliver refocused on Quinten. “Excuse me?”

“I asked, what do you want? Why are you here, Mage Wyndham?”

It was clear by the way his mouth moved, but no words came out, that the noble was not used to being spoken to in such a way.

A strong breeze swept through the training yard. Blowing a lock of raven-colored hair into Oliver’s eyes. Raising a hand to brush it back into place, Quinten had to admit the boy recovered quickly, as he was already giving them the serpentine smile he’d worn on their first day.

“I am here, checking on my fellow students. You two in particular. We all know how skilled you are, to advance so quickly.” Twisting his neck to look back over his shoulder, Oliver’s hanger-ons bobbed their heads in agreement. “But that came at a price. You were unable to witness the duels during your first years. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any… concerns.”

He’s good. I bet he’d be right at home in a viper’s pit. Quinten thought, trading a look between his friends. If that is the game you’d like to play. You never know who is listening.

Feigning a look of concern, Quinten chose his words carefully. “My apologies, Mage Wyndham. My welcome was brisk. Maybe I’m feeling the pressure a bit more than I was aware. I believe we will be fine, but we appreciate your concern. It truly shows your commitment to your fellow students, and to the Academy.”

Eyes flashing, Oliver’s grin spread fractionally. Forcing Quinten to fight off a small shiver as he tried not to consider what was going through the older boy’s mind.

Licking his lips. Oliver’s eyes flicked to Cedric, saying, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how true that is.”

Without another word, he stalked away. His followers trailing behind like a pack of well-heeled dogs.

Cedric let out a loud exhale, pasting on an overly large smile. “I really like him, he is a man of quality.”

Ronan snorted, “Ever since you found out he was on Celeste’s list, you’ve hated him.”

“He’s the type who is used to getting what he wants without issue,” Quinten said absentmindedly. Rubbing his arm where the hair stood on end. “I bet that when he doesn’t, he’d be willing to try to break you.” Just like his father.

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The tone of the crowd shifted. Alerting the three that something had changed.

Speaking of people we hate, he thought, unable to stop himself. Pushing aside his dislike for the man. He listened as Instructor Highbridge addressed the gathered students from the raised dais overlooking the field. “The pairs for today’s duels have been decided. Once your name is called, make your way to the arena seating and wait for your turn.”

Peering around at the assembled students, he continued, “This is your first opportunity to show your instructors what sets you apart. What makes you better. Don’t let the chance pass you by.”

Quinten and Cedric had been less than pleased to discover that the second-year class on Transmutation was also taught by Instructor Highbridge. Though he continued to ignore the two of them as he had in the first-year class, the difference in atmosphere was notable. The female students sat in a strange, icy silence, their eyes often cast down and fixed on their desks or locked onto the instructor with a burning intensity. And yet, Instructor Highbridge carried on teaching, his tone indifferent, as if pretending he didn’t notice the tension that permeated the room.

Maybe he doesn’t. A more self-centered person, I have never met.

“Cedric Vaelmara… will be dueling Oliver Wyndham.”

Pulled from his thoughts, Quinten saw Cedric’s head as it whipped toward the instructor, his reaction being the only tell as his expression remained steady. He gave his friend a sidelong glance, a flicker of concern passing between them. Cedric’s lips tightened, and he nodded once, resolute.

“Prepare yourselves. The first duels will begin in ten minutes.” The voice of Instructor Highbridge announced, echoing off the stone walls. Just in time to be heard by the first-years as they made their way down to their section of seating.

Ronan was the first of the trio called forward. Pushing his Gift into his eyes, Quinten tracked his friend’s opponent as he made his way down to the already torn up grass of the training field. Half again as large as the Healer, the other boy looked like he hauled granite for fun and ate basalt as a snack. He was also a part of Oliver’s group from earlier that morning.

“You don’t think Oliver The Twat will try anything with him, do you? You know he’s not a fighter.”

Quinten shook his head slowly, but couldn’t quite relax his clenched hands. “No, I don’t think so. He’s not new to the class like we are, and everyone knows he’s going to be a healer. You don’t piss them off, not when you may need them to save you someday.”

Cedric peered at him through squinted eyes. “I didn’t recognize the name of the girl you are supposed to fight. But what are the odds Ronan and I would be given the pairings we received?”

“Not great,” mumbled Quinten. A tingling sensation across his neck had him turning.

Steely grey eyes met golden hazel with a twiddling of fingers. They shifted to the side, making Cedric twitch, bringing a slow curl to the young man’s lips.

*****

Ronan hated dueling. He understood the reasoning behind it, that in war, even the non-combatants may need to defend themselves. It still did not change the fact that Ronan hated it.

While his Gifts did not lend themselves to combat, that was not the reason he wanted to be a Healer. He was fascinated by the concept of combining all three of his Gifts to facilitate healing on a scale never before seen. He could spend hours discussing the various ways in which Healing magic could be combined with one or both of his other Gifts. But no—no, Ronan had to go fight.

Looking across the dueling field, he sighed. Of course it would be Jed.

The harassment had stopped once Quinten and Cedric joined their year. Ronan never brought it up, not wanting to taint their new friendship or their opinion of him. They gave him a sense of belonging that he’d protect at all costs. For the first time in years, he wasn’t alone.

He must be among the stars, getting this match up. Ronan thought, feeling his stomach churn.

“On my call,” announced Instructor Highbridge. Waving his arms extravagantly as if he were conducting a parade before the king.

Ronan tensed as he felt his opponent's beady eyed stare bore into him. He could feel his hands begin to sweat and his heart start to pump faster and faster. He could feel each beat pushing the blood within. The smell of freshly overturned earth and burned grass from the fights before them filtered through his nose. Everything he heard increased in volume until it became a single ringing tone that drowned it all out.

“Begin!”

Ronan dove into his pocket while Jed charged. His opponent’s body shifting, growing a few inches taller and bulking up with even more muscle. Dark fur sprouted in patches, doing its best to cover exposed skin. Hands and face darkened as his brow bone swelled, revealing the telltale signs of his Transmutation gift. It wasn’t on the level of Cedric, who could shift his body almost entirely and in different ways. Jed could only manage one aspect of the shift. In a fight against Ronan, that would likely be enough.

Without an Elemental gift to summon projectiles, Ronan had no means of launching direct attacks like fire or earth. Instead, Quinten had helped him prepare for today’s duel by replicating the metal spheres that he and Cedric had trained with under Elara’s guidance. Over the past few weeks, Ronan had practiced controlling the steel orbs, and could now manage three at once.

Walking backward to create space, he launched the balls into the air and gripped them with his mind. Setting them spinning in a wide orbit around his body to maintain their momentum. He sent the first flying toward Jed, aiming for the knee. It struck slightly off target, hitting his opponent's thick thigh with a meaty smack instead. Undeterred, Ronan launched the next two, quickly recalling the first sphere back into rotation. All the while, he continued to circle the dueling area, stalling for time.

Jed grunted in surprise at the first impact, but was ready for those that came after. He dodged one sphere, letting it whistle past his head, while the second caught him on the shoulder, eliciting a low growl.

As Jed closed the gap between them, Ronan could feel the panic rising. The brute strength of Jed’s transmuted form was overwhelming, and Ronan knew he couldn’t hold him off forever. Steeling his nerves, he directed one sphere to curve around, angling toward Jed’s exposed side, while sending the other two in a straight line, hoping to divide his opponent’s attention.

Jed saw the attack coming and tried to deflect the spheres with his thickened arm. One orb grazed his ribs while the other bounced off his bicep. The third, however, caught him off guard, striking his lower leg. The sharp crack of steel meeting bone, bouncing off the stone walls. He stumbled, momentarily losing balance, but continued limping forward, eyes burning with fury.

Ronan could feel his control over the spheres wavering under the pressure of combat. He recalled all three to his side, breathing heavily, and knew he had only moments before Jed reached him. His mind raced for a strategy as the hulking figure bore down on him.

*****

“He’s done for…” Cedric stated in a small voice.

Quinten nodded as he watched, body tense, as the towering beast rushed their smaller friend. Ronan managed to get off one last volley of spheres to little effect. His opponent barreling through the attack, finally reaching his target.

The kick he landed on Ronan’s chest lifted the healer off the floor. Sending him flying several feet before crashing into a scorched section of grass. Ash and dirt rose in his wake, obscuring the vision of those watching.

They could practically hear the air forced from their friend’s lungs when he landed. Q’s hands curled into fists at the pain he knew the older boy was likely feeling. While he understood the Academy’s justification for making students fight, there had to be a better way.

The heavy stomping strides of Ronan’s opponent set the arena on edge as he waded into the cloud. Swinging his bulging arms around him like a grotesque windmill to clear the air.

When they could finally see, the view had Quinten on the edge of his seat.

The wall of muscle, that he would later learn to be named Jed, stood planted over Ronan’s prone form. Which looked like it hadn’t moved after it’d hit the ground, likely knocked unconscious by the impact. Quinten waited, expecting to hear Highbridge or one of the other instructors declare the battle finished.

Looking around for Burns, someone Quinten knew would stop the fight. He started to panic when he couldn’t find the mage in the sea of onlookers. With dawning dread, he realized that this duel may not be coming to an end on its own.