Chapter 9
The Academy’s arena was vast—stone bleachers curling around a sunken battlefield of scorched earth and warded stone. A faint shimmer hung in the air, likely from shielding spells woven into the structure to protect the audience. Hundreds of students filled the upper tiers, a storm of anxious whispers and darting eyes. Some leaned forward, breathless with excitement. Others sat pale and rigid, fingers clenched around knees.
At the arena’s center loomed a black dais, carved from obsidian and veined with glowing sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat. Upon it sat three examiners in crimson robes, unmoving as statues. A fourth figure stood beside them, lean and severe, holding a long scroll that curled at the ends like a serpent.
“The entrance examination will now commence,” intoned the lead examiner. His voice echoed across the coliseum, deep and resonant, amplified by unseen magic.
“Each applicant will face a summoned beast alone. You may use any means available to survive or prove dominance—channeling, soul bond support, or both.
There will be no team combat. This is a test of the individual.”
A groan rolled across the arena as the far gate opened.
From the darkness lumbered a hulking beast—its silver-flecked fur catching the light in shifting patterns. Knuckles struck stone like hammers. Its crimson eyes scanned the stands, sentient and simmering. This wasn’t some mindless animal. This was a trial.
Jai stood in the upper observation tier among the untested. The crowd’s noise dimmed in his ears. Somewhere low in his chest, a knot had formed. Not fear. Something quieter. Tighter. A coil of thunder waiting for its strike.
Pressure without lightning.
One by one, names were called. Students descended to the arena, some with proud strides, others with hesitant steps. Victories earned polite applause. Failures were met with silence—or groans, if bloodied bodies had to be carried off.
A girl with a sleek panther soul bond danced around her opponent, graceful as moonlight, striking like a shadow. A broad-shouldered boy and his iron-clad boar won on stubbornness alone, refusing to fall until the examiners relented.
Then the scrollbearer’s voice rang out:
“Kael, Ninth Prince of the Empire.”
The arena exhaled—gasps, whispers, sudden focus. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Jai’s jaw clenched. Of course he’d be here.
Kael descended like a champion already crowned, golden armor gleaming in the sunlight. He didn’t look at the crowd—he absorbed it. On the left, his circle of loyalists roared with cheers and whistles. Kael raised a fist—not in greeting, but declaration.
Jai rolled his eyes. “Show-off.”
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The lion mark across Kael’s back shimmered as he entered the arena. In the next breath, the lion itself appeared—golden-maned, massive, radiating the same regal arrogance as its bonded partner. It stared across the coliseum with eyes that dared anyone to challenge it.
The summoned beast roared.
Kael didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.
Gold light burst around him as he channeled. The lion roared again, a sound that shook dust from the stands. The beast charged—fists raised.
Kael moved.
He ducked beneath the blow, aura blazing brighter, and launched upward with a shout that matched his lion’s cry. His fist struck like a comet.
The beast crashed.
The dust settled.
And Kael walked away.
No blood. No strain. No humility.
The coliseum erupted.
Jai exhaled slowly through his nose. Power was one thing. But this? This was theater. Polished and practiced. The lion roared for the crowd, not the kill.
More names followed. A nimble girl with a viper bond danced on the edge of failure before turning the tide with clever feints. A shaking boy survived just long enough to be called a pass.
Then:
“Talan of Veyra’s Hollow.”
Jai’s gaze snapped down.
Talan gave him a quick thumbs-up—wobbly, but brave—clutching his bronze staff with white-knuckled fingers. Overhead, his eagle shrieked, wings slicing the air.
His beast was larger, broader, its arms thick with coiled strength.
Talan didn’t wait.
He moved—fast and loose, dodging swings, jabbing with his staff like lightning in copper form. The eagle struck from above, targeting the eyes. When the beast flinched, Talan struck. Again. Again.
It worked—until it didn’t.
The creature’s backhand landed flush, flinging Talan like a broken doll. He hit the ground hard, blood arcing from his mouth.
Jai flinched.
But Talan rose.
He staggered, lips split and brow bloody, and raised his staff again.
The middle examiner raised a hand.
“Enough. He passes.”
Applause broke out. Jai allowed himself a brief, proud smile.
“Tough bastard,” he muttered.
The next battles blurred—some brave, some foolish, all charged with sweat and desperation. The air grew heavier. The dust thicker.
Then:
“Revyn.”
Silence.
Even the murmurs died.
On the opposite side of the arena, a small circle of crimson-and-silver figures stood motionless. Not haughty like Kael’s nobles. Disciplined. Measured. Loyal.
Revyn moved from them like a shadow uncoiling. His steps were precise. Quiet. Lethal.
No cheers greeted him.
He didn’t want them.
The phoenix rose behind him—immense, elegant, aflame. Its wings trailed fire. Its eyes were suns.
Jai swallowed.
The summoned beast this time was a monster—scarred, tusked, and twice the size of any before. It bellowed and charged.
Revyn didn’t move.
The phoenix rose, fire flaring.
Flames pulsed from Revyn’s hands—smooth streams of crimson that struck the charging beast head-on. The creature slowed, roared.
Revyn raised both arms.
A spiral of fire erupted from the ground, engulfing the beast in whips of flame. Heat rippled through the arena. Jai felt it on his skin.
The beast shrieked.
Then dropped, unmoving.
Dead.
Revyn turned, impassive, and walked back up the stairs.
“Pass,” said the examiner.
No applause followed. Just stunned silence.
Jai’s hands clenched at his sides.
That wasn’t theater.
That was execution.
Effortless. Final.
A flicker of unease twisted in his chest.
he thought.
His heart thudded once. Not frantic—but weighty. Measured.
From deep within, he felt Sheeren stir. A brush of warmth against his thoughts. A low growl of solidarity. Not words. But presence.
I’m here.
Then—
“Jai… of Briarstead.”
Murmurs again. Confused. Curious.
Who?
Good.
He preferred it that way.
Jai rose.
Step by step, he descended toward the arena.
Toward the center of it all.
Toward his trial.
