Rane sat by Atinas’ side on the round table, feeling for the tension in the air.

Caelus had chosen to sit directly opposite to Rane, yet hadn’t glanced in his direction once since entering the room. No matter how he tried to hide it, Rane could feel the anger seething under the man’s calm facade. Most times emotions were felt through touch, but in this case it was vision that accompanied them. Little trickles of red light surrounded Caelus’s head, invisible to everyone but Rane, mixed with a few lone wisps of a desperate purple. After taking in Eln’s magic, a week of studying and through Atinas’s guidance, Rane found that he could control emotions a little better. He felt them, perhaps even more acutely than before, but he didn’t allow them to meddle with his thoughts and what he felt.

Mord was staring at Veradin and his disciple just as hatefully, yet she paid him no mind and continued toying with strands of her white hair. That seemed to infuriate him even more, yet he too stood silent. Danrith seemed the calmest, sprawled over the table and laying face down on his arm.

In this awkward silence, Rane observed Veradin. The man would almost seem normal without the archmage’s cloak, were it not for his white, radiant eyes. Veradin must have noticed, because he turned in Rane’s direction and widened his eyes a little. Rane tried to hold Veradin’s gaze, but it only took a few moments for him to grow dizzy. Veradin grinned and glanced away, before looking at him again. It felt like a weird, silent game between the two of them.

“Sorry I’m late!” Miria caught her breath by the door, before straightening her posture. Her gaze traversed all three archmages present, as well as their apprentices. She sat on the last remaining seat and fanned her flushed face with one hand. “Alright, we can begin with the first issue.”

“The master selection,” Atinas mumbled under his hood.

“Ah, right.” Miria settled down in place and shot Rane a smile. “Who would have thought that you two would click so well, huh?”

There was a silence from everyone present. Atinas pressed his lips together and Rane looked away.

“R-Right.” Miria stammered. “Well, that should be easy to solve. Do not make the fact that Rane has already chosen a master public. Then, when the round ends, Atinas can volunteer and Rane can formally choose him. Any objections to that?”

“That would work.” Veradin nodded after a brief pause.

“I’m afraid there is a more pressing issue.” Caelus crossed his arms and spoke with a serious tone. “This apprentice was admitted by Linde, a member of my family. Yet she claims she has not approved any of her apprentices to enter the Flames.”

Rane fidgeted in his seat. Atinas had instructed him to be silent, but it was difficult when Caelus was spouting such blatant lies.

“So what?” Atinas almost hissed the words. “Having a senior mage vouch for an apprentice is just a typicality. Meant to keep those clearly unsuited out of the competition.”

“It’s only a typicality until it involves my family.” Caelus stroked his beard. “I’d rather not have my granddaughter’s name be used to champion an apprentice who is about to be defeated.”

“Don’t underestimate my fellow apprentice.” It was actually Mord that spoke up. Was it his hatred for Veradin’s disciple at play or had he actually stood up for Rane. “There is no telling what will happen.”

“Someone’s bitter.” The ashfen chuckled, but a stern gaze from Veradin made her stop.

“You…” Mord was about to stand when Atinas placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Enough. Rane can use my name instead. Then there will be no problems. Right, archmage Caelus?”

Caelus shook his head. “He has already used her name and made a fool out of us. I demand that he is disqualified.” He turned his attention to Miria.

Rane couldn’t take it any longer. “Why don’t we ask Linde instead? She should be able to back up my claims.”

The floor trembled and Caelus rose from his sheet, rounding the table to Rane. “Listen here–”

Atinas stood sharply to meet Caelus, his hood a breath away from the taller man’s chest. “I suggest you listen. You only sparked to become an Archmage five years ago and you haven’t mustered the courage to challenge any of the higher seats.” Atinas tilted his head unnaturally. Gray dripped from his hood. “So sit down unless you want to lose a limb. Threat it as an order from your superior.” He pulled out a chair and motioned.

Caelus tightened his lips but took a seat.

“Do not act this aggressive against one of my people again. Why do you even waste your time here, trying to hinder my apprentice? Aren’t you busy enough with the Lawforge investigating the Oath you’ve sworn with Leylin?”

Veradin and Miria exchanged glances, eyes wide. Caelus’s lip trembled. “What– What have you done?”

“Simply shared what I know. I’m sure the Lawforge can get to the bottom of this.”

Caelus seemed angered now, veins popping on his forehead. “You invoked the Lawforge over the words of a child? Have you lost your mind?”

“You tried to have me killed,” Rane added. “I think that shows how much my words are worth.”

"I will not take any more of these wild accusations. Come, Danrith. We're leaving.

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Atinas simply grinned as the flustered archmage left in a hurry, dragging his apprentice behind.

"An Oath with that madman?" Veradin placed his arms on the table and crossed his fingers. "That is a serious accusation. Almost..." his voice faded.

"Treason." Miria finished the thought. Her usually cheerful face hid a worry to it. "Do you have any proof?"

"Right here." Atinas walked behind Rane, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The old man has seen it as well."

"Enough." Miria glanced at Rane and then at the other apprentices. "We will discuss this in private. Let’s focus on conducting the finals smoothly for now." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “As you know, the King has shown interest in this year’s competition. He even allowed for the Vault of Echoes to be opened. It is even said that the king’s aide will attend the finals, although there hasn’t been official confirmation. I want the last round of the competition to be exciting, and a great display of skill from both sides, for the King’s sake.” Miria cleared her throat before turning to Veradin’s apprentice. “There is no easy way to say this but… Please go easy on Rane today.”

Rane lips twitched with the need to speak up, but he clenched his jaw to stay silent. Everyone thought his defeat was set in stone and the fact infuriated him. Veradin’s disciple laughed again and he glanced at her. He envied how relaxed she seemed and how freely she acted. Strong enough to have no worries.

“I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s not like I’ve really had to strain myself in this competition to begin with.”

Audacious too, but who could blame her? It had been hard to follow her with his eyes when she fought against Mord, and she had won without using magic. In the end, he had seen very little of what she could do. Just what had Veradin taught her? The uncertainty dug a pit in his stomach, but the need to challenge her pulsed even stronger.

“So be it.” Atinas agreed after some thought. “I believe it will be a learning experience for the both of them.” He glanced out the window, at the dawning day. “Now if you’ll excuse us… We have to prepare for the last round.”

Veradin’s disciple didn’t even spare Rane a second glance as they left. Once outside, Mord walked a little faster, distancing himself from them.

“He’s still bitter…” Atinas mumbled. It seemed there was worry in his voice.

“There seems to be a lot of history between the two.”

“More than you’d think. Mord has been trying to defeat her for years, yet their gap only grows.” Atinas shook his head. “He can’t accept that talent creates walls that hard work and study cannot overcome.”

Rane gazed at the apprentice’s back. “Is she that talented?”

“Why else would she be Veradin’s disciple?” Atinas sighed and pushed his back gently. “Go. Caelus wouldn’t dare to make a move now.”

“What will you do?”

Atinas turned his back and lowered his voice. “There is something I need to discuss with the other Archmages.”

Rane nodded. “Leylin?”

“Yes.” Atinas reached into his cloak and pulled out a thin sheet of paper, painted with the image of an open book. “If you need to contact me, pour some nora into this.”

Rane placed it in a pocket, then bid farewell to the Archmage. When he turned around, he nearly bumped into Veradin’s disciple. She was leaning forward, her face close to his. Her white eyes scanned over his form. “So your name is Rane? What’s your surname?”

Rane glanced at the door. How had she gotten here? “Yeah, Rane,” he responded awkwardly. Something about the way she stared at him felt off. “Sorry, but I have to get ready.” He walked past her and she grabbed his shoulder with a bit of strength, pushing him against the wall.

“You don’t seem strong.” She put a bit more weight behind her hand and narrowed her eyes. The irises were pure white, unlike the other ashfen he had seen. “Who is Leylin? What kind of Oath did he swear with Caelus?”

“Let go.” Rane shook her off. She posed some resistance at first and tried to keep him pinned, but a brief flash of fire from Rane made her back off.

“You need to learn your place.” The smile left her face and she placed some strands of hair behind her ear. “I guess I’ll have to be the one to teach you.”

Rane could feel the annoyance and anger inside her, like a thin and hot veil of red over her skin. “Maybe I should teach you some manners in return. That is no way to behave to someone older than you.”

That made her raise a brow. “Why not? I’m stronger than you.”

“That’s what everyone seems to think,” Rane mumbled. “But why does it matter?”

“It’s the point of power,” she explained with a smile. “The weak exist to serve the strong, to tend to their each need and to suffer. They live and die on our whim.”

Rane was at a loss for words. How could a person think like this? He had been locked in the dungeon and treated like an animal when he was her age, yet his view was never so warped. “Do you truly believe that?”

She sighed. “It’s not about belief. This is simply the way things are. The quicker you accept it, the better. Why don’t you–”

“You are the reason the world is a damned, rotten place.” He snapped at her, louder than he would have liked. It was his turn to be mad. Because of people like her, he was forced to suffer. He was forced to kill. “Do you even have a shred of compassion?”

“No.” She stared right into his eyes. “Compassion is weakness. I do feel pity sometimes, for idiots like you.”

“That one is mutual,” he said. “You make me sick.”

“And yet there is nothing you can do but silently endure.” Frost spread up her arms, cracked, white ice covering them. “I could kill you right now.” She inched closer. “That’s what it means to be strong.”

Rane raised his eyebrows and chuckled. That made her anger spike and her face distort. He had been threatened with death so many times that it was getting mundane. “An empty threat.” He slowly distanced himself, calling fire to his hands. “You’d be punished for the rest of your life. From what I’ve heard since arriving in this city, the Lawforge is not kind towards those it finds guilty.”

She let her magic dissipate with a grunt. “That is also their right. Because they are strong.”

“How childish.” Rane laughed. “They don’t punish people simply because they can. It is because laws are in place that demand so. The strong have a duty to protect the weak.”

“Look where that mentality got us,” she mumbled. “Seven cities and the capital are all Silyra has left. We went from owning the world to being forced into one of its tiny corners.”

“It’s not just the mentality at play,” Rane replied.

“Arguing with you is pointless,” she said, turning around. “I guess the only way to get the point across is by force.”

“You’re welcome to try.” Rane let his flames go out and stared at her back until she was out of sight. The conversation had left him with a bitter taste and planted a seed of doubt in his heart. A world at war, where kindness and honesty were repaid with malice and betrayal… Where people held such grim views of others, nothing more than instruments. Rane gazed at the flickering torch on the wall, slowly burning away. Could he change a world this twisted?