Fire met water, blowing hot steam up into the arena’s seats. The apprentices stood unmoving from their starting points, flinging spells at each other. Rane's eyes seemed glued to the fighting, but his attention was elsewhere. He fidgeted in his seat. Once the first round ended, so would his leverage over Caelus. Linde would be free from her Oath, and Rane was unsure if the Archmage's presence would be enough of a deterrent. His eyes glanced to the side every so often, to where Veradin sat. The man seemed focused on the fighting. Rane was about to speak to Talah, when he felt cold, sharp steel pressed against his lower back. He almost flinched away.

“Don’t make a scene,” whispered the man behind him. “Join me in the back.”

Rane simply nodded and the weapon left his back. He heaved a deep sigh and tried to calm himself. He quietly slipped away from Talah and the other apprentices and circled back behind the seats. The man was waiting for him, Nost emblem glittering in the lines of light that made it through the seats. He was young, with short brown hair and a lean build. Rane waited as the man observed him from top to bottom.

“You can’t kill me, or Linde will die.” Rane kept his distance.

“I can’t kill you yet. That’s not what I’m here for.” The man sighed, then extended his hand. “Danrith Nost.”

It was Rane’s turn to simply observe. “What do you want then?”

“I don’t even know,” Danrith mumbled. “I’m disobeying orders just by talking to you.” He withdrew his hand. “The head of my family wants you dead, and I have never questioned him until now. Never.”

“Are you afraid of the archmages?”

Danirth chuckled at that. “The punishment will be heavy, no doubt about that, but Caelus promised to protect me. At the very least, I won’t lose my life.”

The gears of the arena creaked to a stop. The round ended and Rane’s hand itched for the hilt. He took a step back and drew half of his blade.

“Listen damn it!” Danrith clenched his jaw to stop himself from yelling. “The Flames are important to me. This isn’t about you. It’s about tradition. Do you think I want to go down in history as the one who killed another contestant?”

Rane relaxed a little. Danrith really didn’t want to harm him. “I think I know how you feel. A bit too well.” He too had been forced to make difficult decisions that affected the life of others. It was never pretty. “You don’t have to listen to him. Do you even know why he wants me dead? Has he told you?”

“I–” Danrith shook his head. “I trust my grandfather. He always does what’s best for the family, so he must have a reason.”

“I find it revolting,” Rane said, “that you kill just because someone told you to. Even if it is someone you trust. Lives aren’t so trivial. I could have let Lind–”

“That’s why I’m giving you a chance. Whoever loses in the competition first must take their own life.” Danrith looked him in the eyes for the first time, meaningfully. “That way the stakes are even.”

Rane crossed his hands over his chest and met his stare. There was pride in those eyes, and a determination. "You've never killed before, have you? It would be unbecoming for a bright descendant of an Archmage such as yourself. In the end, you're not trying to make this fair, but to take the blame off yourself. He died because he was weak. He died because he lost."

"I–" Danrith stammered.

"It doesn't work," Rane said. Memories of death sprung back to his mind and he grimaced. "You'll be a killer for the rest of your life. It's admirable that you'd risk your own life, but I don’t want to kill you. It would only serve to enrage Caelus further." He placed his sword back in its sheath. "If you died, your family would miss you. Stop being selfish." Rane turned to leave.

"Wait! What about my deal?"

Rane stopped and shrugged his shoulders. "It's of no consequence to me. Even if you die, others will come after me," he said without turning. "Besides, why would I make it easier for you?" He walked back out into the sunlight. A few moments later Danrith stumbled out too. Rane kept an eye on the apprentice as he returned to his seat.

"Where did you go?" Talah asked. "You missed an interesting duel!"

“Had something to take care of.” Rane sneaked a glance at Danrith. It didn’t go by unnoticed, and the apprentice shifted a little in his seat.

“Look,” Talah pointed at Veradin, who had stood from his seat in front of them.

“Very good.” Veradin’s booming voice filled the stadium. “Can the victor please get off the stage?” One of the apprentices knelt and bowed deeply before doing as instructed. He joined the other apprentices in the first row, who hugged him and patted his back. Rane focused on the other apprentice instead, sat close enough to see his beet red face and tears.

“As for the other young man,” Veradin held the same cheerful tone, “are there any mages who would like to mentor him?”

The apprentice wiped away his tears and raised his head, looking at the stands. Despite his loss, two mages had stood from their seats. “Lower mage, plant growth origin.” The woman spoke first, then sat back down. “High scholar, crystal origin.” The elderly man wore gray robes, instead of the characteristic blue and white of the other mages. The apprentice observed them for a few moments, then got off the stage. From what Rane understood, he could now seek guidance from both of them.

Veradin opened the book strapped to his waist. Rane caught glimpse of radiant letters shifting in the pages. When they settled, Veradin read out the next names. “Marcellus’ Lokni and Linde’s Rane.”

Rane hadn’t expected his turn to come so soon. He stood awkwardly, and Talah gave him a pat on the back. The apprentice he was to face was about the same height and age as him. Rane was confident he hadn’t seen him during the tests. They climbed down the steps side to side, and only then did the sheer number of spectators strike Rane. Rows upon rows of mages with eyes locked onto him, observing his every step. He took his place inside one of the blue circles painted on the ground as his opponent did the same.

The creaking of the arena’s cog warned of the first beat. Rane’s right hand gripped the hilt firmly, and he bent both legs in preparation. The machines in the wall strained, and Rane felt his heartbeat quicken. Purple mist gathered in his opponent’s palms. He heard the first beat and it all faded. The spectators. The competition. The stakes.

Close the gap.

Two strides and he was at the center of the arena. His sword left the scabbard with a whisper. The next beat found him between the apprentice’s outstretched arms as the man’s magic manifested behind him. Threads bound his hands as the tip of his weapon tickled the apprentice’s throat. Rane breathed out and relaxed his grip. There was silence for a few moments.

“What are you doing?” Miria jumped onto the stage. “You were gonna kill him!”

“We were told to hold nothing back,” Rane said. “Besides, I could have stopped.” Miria loosened the threads. Rane lowered his hand gently, sliding the sword back in its scabbard. The apprentice opposite to him grasped his neck and stumbled back, still in shock. He whispered a quick “I surrender.”

Even Veradin was a bit late to respond. “Please get off the stage, Rane.” The archmage even used his name. "As Marcellus’ Lokni, are there any mages who would be interested?"

Rane turned his back and left the central area. He could feel wisps of admiration and interest from all over the arena. The magic in his soul pulsed, and for a brief moment he thought he could feel it grow. Was this what pride felt like? Despite the apprentice on the stage waiting for a mentor, all the attention was on him. And he loved the feeling.

Stolen story; please report.

Talah shook her head when he sat beside her. "I expected you to win, but that was plain scary. You can be quite ruthless."

"Me?" He chuckled, then mumbled to himself. "You haven't seen what ruthlessness can be."

She tilted her head and gave him a puzzled glance.

Veradin announced the next contestants and Rane turned to Talah. "Can I ask for a favour?"

“Sure! What is it?”

Rane glanced around and lowered his voice. “Watch the rounds for a person called Danrith. I want to know how they fight and what magic they use.”

Talah thought for a moment then nodded. “I won’t ask what’s so special about that person, but are you sure you don’t want to watch the event yourself?”

“I couldn’t get much sleep last night, so I’ll go back to my room to rest a bit now.” Rane stood from his seat and gave her a brief smile. “Thank you.” He made his way back to his room quickly, sticking close to the walls and other apprentices. Linde had been wrong. To instruct Danrith to kill him, Caelus didn’t fear the other archmages. He shut the door behind him and spent a moment there, listening to the construct take its place to guard the room.

He tossed the scabbard onto the bed and sat on the floor. Memories could be harvested for power and again, Loric had taught him. It was best to revisit them soon, while they were still vivid and the emotions lingered. He visualised the arena and let everything else fade.

What was it that had given him power? What had he never experienced before? The mist in his soul swirled as he tried to make sense of the feeling. The mages spectating didn't matter. It was victory that made the nora in his soul stir. But why? He had won before. What was different this time?

Rane opened his eyes. It was effortless. He had overpowered the opponent in every way and managed a decisive victory. Focusing on the fact birthed more magic and it filled his soul. He breathed out gray mist. Power meant freedom. The mist inside him was pressed close together, coalescing into liquid. Dense, stronger.

Rane spent hours exploring the memory, until all feeling faded. Inside him, the magic had grown restless, as if trying to escape the confines of his soul.

Was he close to sparking? Did the memory really hold that kind of power, or was it the accumulation of his experiences that mattered most?

There was a knock, followed by Talah's voice. "Rane? Are you sleeping still?"

"I'm up!" Rane hurriedly tidied his bed and shoved some dirty clothes in the closet. He turned to knob and motioned her inside. It took him a moment to notice the grim expression she wore.

Talah removed her coat and placed it on a chair with shaky hands. People said the capital got cold at night, but it felt like a hot summer day compared to the Tonginth mountains.

She placed a small metal box on the table and sat on his bed, hands twitching with the fabric of her outfit. “I watched that apprentice fight. Danrith.” She mumbled out the name then bit her lip.

“And?” Rane prompted and sat beside her. “Was he strong?”

“You should quit,” she said. “You can’t beat him.”

That surprised him. Talah had seen Rane fight, and she still thought he’d lose? “Tell me then, what magic did he use?”

“He- He didn’t.” Talah gulped and shifted on the bed. “By the arbiter, I’ve never seen so much blood. Do humans really have that much blood inside them?”

“Talah!” Rane grasped her arms. “Calm down and focus.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes and took a few breaths. “Danrith rushed the other apprentice as soon as the first beat sounded. Started punching her…”

“Why didn’t the archmages stop him?”

“His opponent was stubborn. She kept trying to gather her magic, but Danrith wouldn’t let her. He kept pummeling her… Harder and harder. He seemed angry. Eventually she lost consciousness and Miria stopped him.”

“How's the woman?" Rane did feel a bit guilty. The pressure he put on Danrith was probably the cause for this brutish display. "Will she be alright?"

“She’s in the infirmary. There’s capable mages taking care of her, so I wouldn’t worry.” She stayed silent for a while, pondering. Rane could feel parts of her fear, like serpents tightening around her heart. Talah’s hand found his. “I don’t want you to fight him,” she said.

“You don’t have to worry.” Rane smiled at her. Talah was one of the few people who had been genuinely nice to him. She cared, and he appreciated it. “I’m strong. Even if I can’t win, I’ll surrender before I get hurt.” Rane second guessed himself the moment he said it. Originally the competition was just a way to stay safe, but now he had begun to enjoy it, and more importantly, grow from it.

Talah seemed to calm a bit. “I’ll trust you.”

"Good," Rane said with a nod. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to see you fight. How was your round?"

"Easy enough!" She frowned. "Just because I'm missing some spells from my arsenal doesn't mean I'm not strong you know?"

Rane feigned shock. "You think I ever doubted you?"

"I hope not!" Talah gave him a sideways glance. "Oh, right. I brought you something." She turned her gaze to the table and hopped over to it, hands fiddling with the box’s lid.

The smell of herbs and meat wafted over to Rane’s nose, reminding him of his hunger. He got up too, sitting opposite to her on the table and eyeing the box. The meat was dark and steaming still, overflowing with juices. The room, though small, had cutlery and dishes for the apprentices to use.

“It’s borash meat,” Talah said as she placed a large chunk on his plate. “ My father brought it today. It’s considered an extraordinary and difficult to prepare dish. It has been cooked over three months to grow soft and tender.”

Rane’s mouth watered, but he held back. “Are you sure I can eat it? You should share it with your father.”

“Stop it already!” Talah placed some on her own plate. “They didn’t let dad enter either way. The constructs delivered it to me.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I had already warned him that this would happen.” Talah cut into the meat. “Sometimes he just doesn’t listen to me!”

“Your father sounds like a great person.” Rane looked down at the plate and smiled. The appetite he had built suddenly vanished. “You should cherish your moments with him, and don’t get too mad. I’m sure he cares for you a lot.”

Talah stopped mid-bite and looked up at him. “Your family…?”

“I’m looking for my siblings.” Rane toyed with the fork between his fingers. “But this city is massive, you know?”

“It really is.” Talah nodded, then her face brightened. “Hey, once this competition is over, I can help you find them! My family has some connections.”

“Really?” Rane wiped the tears that had started to form in his eyes. The sole reason he preserved through the torment, through every obstacle fate sent his way, was to see his family again. To lead a normal life with no looming death or danger following in his shadow. “You’d do that for me?”

“I already told you. It’s no big deal.” Talah reached over the table and touched his hand. “We should eat, before it gets cold.”

“Thank you. I mean it.” Rane tightened his hand around hers briefly. He cut open the meat and tasted it. The taste was rich and sweet, with notes of honey. A long and persistent savouriness was left on his tongue, hinting of the spicy herbs. It was hard to hold himself back after that.

“Good, isn’t it?” Talah laughed and Rane moaned with his mouth full. Even Loric’s cooking couldn’t compare. He emptied the plate, leaving no time to savor the taste.

“I have to admit, I haven’t seen anyone eat that fast.” Talah chuckled.

Not much time to eat when you’re being tortured. Rane settled for a simple “I was hungry,” instead. He waited until Talah finished at her own pace before picking up both their plates and cutlery. “That was amazing, Talah.”

Talah laughed. “I’ll be sure to let my dad know. Appreciative, right?”

“Yeah…” Rane sat back down and they looked at each other in an awkward silence. Their eyes locked, and he noticed their gentle azure color.

“Y-You can come spend the night in my room, if you’d like.” Talah blushed and squirmed in her chair.

Rane fought for the right words. He so desperately wanted to say yes, to hug her and hold her. Affection still felt foreign to him, and yet he craved more of it. His hand still tingled with the gentle warmth of hers. “I–” He clenched his fists under the table to stop himself. It wouldn’t be fair to her. Just being around him was dangerous. If something happened to Talah because of him he’d never forgive himself. Rane let his head hang. “I can’t. I want to prepare myself for tomorrow.”

“Ah.” Talah forced a smile onto her face that almost made him cry. “You’re right. I should too.”

“Here, let me help.” Rane stood and held her coat up for her.

“Thank you,” Talah said and then held her arms open for a hug.

Rane hesitated before leaning in slightly, wrapping his arms around her. Her warmth and the sweet smell of her hair almost swayed him. He held the embrace for another few heartbeats before backing away. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you at the arena.” Talah winked and waved him goodbye.

Rane leaned against the windowsill after she left, to gaze at the capital stretching outside. An ocean of white stone, with narrow streets and impressive buildings stretching endlessly. Perhaps there would come a day when he could enjoy the grandiose of it all. Because now, all he saw was danger, and the unknown.