The D-Day

The arena was a beast of noise and light.

Banners hung from every rafter—Ashford’s silver and blue, Silver Falcons’ silver and blue, a dozen other colors from academies that had already been eliminated. The stands were packed shoulder to shoulder, students and faculty and visiting hunters crammed together, their voices merging into a roar that vibrated through the floor and up through the soles of your boots.

Lucian stood at the center of the arena, his team around him, the weight of ten thousand eyes pressing against his skin.

Across the floor, the Silver Falcons waited.

They looked like they belonged here. Their uniforms were immaculate, not a crease out of place. Their stances were relaxed, confident—the ease of people who had done this a hundred times before. Dorian stood at the front, his blade sheathed, his arms crossed, that same smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He wasn’t looking at the crowd. He was looking at Lucian.

Cora’s hand tightened on her sword. "I want to wipe that smile off his face."

"Focus," Mason said.

"I am focused. Focused on wiping—"

"Focus." Sera’s voice was sharp. "We’ve watched their footage. We know their patterns. Don’t let him get inside your head."

Too late for that, Lucian thought. But he didn’t say it.

The referee stepped between the teams, her voice amplified by magic. "Finals. Ashen Dawn versus Silver Falcons. Three rounds. First to two wins. No lethal force. Surrender or ring-out ends the match."

Dorian uncrossed his arms. "Any last words, rookies?"

Cora opened her mouth. Lucian put a hand on her shoulder.

"Save it."

The referee raised her hand. "Ready?"

Dorian drew his blade. The sound was soft, almost musical.

Ashen Dawn raised their weapons.

"Begin."

---

Silver Falcons moved first.

Not as individuals—as a single organism. Dorian blurred forward, his speed leaving afterimages that flickered and danced. Lena melted into the shadows at the edge of the arena, her form barely visible. Jace hung back, his hands raised, pressure building around his palms. Vera charged straight at Mason, her enhanced strength cracking the floor beneath her feet. Mira raised her hands, and a shimmering barrier materialized around the Falcons’ side of the arena—not to block attacks, to control space.

Lucian’s eyes tracked them all.

This is going to hurt.

Cora phased through Dorian’s first strike, her blade cutting toward his ribs. He twisted, impossibly fast, and his afterimages swarmed her. She slashed through two of them before realizing they weren’t real.

"Behind you!" Derek shouted.

Cora turned. Dorian was already there, his blade sweeping low. She parried, barely, and stumbled back. Her foot caught on a crack in the floor.

Jace released his sonic wave.

The blast hit Cora before she could phase again. The sound wasn’t loud—it was pressure, a fist of compressed air that slammed into her chest and sent her skidding across the arena floor. She rolled, came up on one knee, her ears ringing.

"Cora!" Sera raised her crossbow, fired at Jace.

Mira’s barrier caught the bolt. It shattered against the shimmering wall.

"Weak," Mira said.

Sera’s jaw tightened.

Mason engaged Vera. His gauntlets met her fists, heat flaring against her enhanced strength. She was strong—stronger than him. Each punch drove him back a step, his boots scraping against the stone.

"You’re holding back," Vera said, not breathless. "Why?"

Mason didn’t answer. He couldn’t afford to. Every ounce of his focus was on not getting crushed.

Derek raised his staff, ghosts swirling around him. Lena emerged from the shadows at his side, her dagger aimed at his throat. Dr. Blackwood intercepted, his translucent form solidifying just enough to block the strike. The ghost hissed, pain flickering across his face.

"She’s fast," Dr. Blackwood said.

"They’re all fast," Derek replied.

Lucian watched.

He hadn’t moved. His blades were still sheathed. His feet were planted. The fight raged around him—Cora struggling to her feet, Mason being pushed back, Sera’s bolts useless against Mira’s barrier, Derek barely holding off Lena with Dr. Blackwood’s help.

Silver Falcons were good.

Better than good.

Their abilities weren’t just refined—they were synergistic. Dorian’s speed and illusions created chaos. Lena’s shadow manipulation picked off anyone who tried to regroup. Jace’s sonic blasts disrupted phasing and concentration. Vera’s strength broke lines. Mira’s barrier controlled engagement.

They’d trained for years to fight as one.

Ashen Dawn had trained for months.

Dorian appeared in front of Lucian, his blade resting lightly on his shoulder, his smile wide. "You’re not fighting."

Lucian met his eyes. "Trying to give you a fighting chance."

"You are funny Vale, underestimating a senior, how laughable."

"Neither will underestimating my team."

Dorian laughed. "Your team is losing."

He wasn’t wrong.

Cora was back on her feet, but her movements were sluggish, her phasing flickering. Jace was lining up another sonic wave. Mason’s gauntlets were dimming, his heat reserves draining. Vera pressed harder, grinning. Sera had switched to cover fire, but Mira’s barrier absorbed everything. Derek’s ghosts were fading, Lena’s dagger finding gaps in their defense.

Ashen Dawn was losing ground.

Lucian’s hand moved to his blade. Then stopped.

Not yet, he thought. Not yet.

He stepped back, letting Dorian advance. Letting the pressure build. Letting his team struggle.

Because struggle was how they grew. Struggle was how they learned. And if he stepped in now, if he ended this with the power he was hiding, they would never know what they were capable of on their own.

Dorian’s blade came close. Lucian sidestepped, barely, the edge whispering past his ear.

"You’re fast," Dorian said.

"You’re predictable."

Dorian’s smile flickered.

Across the arena, Cora phased through Jace’s sonic wave—not completely, but enough. She appeared in front of him, her blade at his throat.

"Yield," she said.

Jace’s eyes widened. He raised his hands. "Yield."

One down.

Mason stopped retreating. He planted his feet, caught Vera’s fist with both gauntlets, and released all his stored heat at once. The blast wasn’t aimed at her—it was aimed at the floor beneath her feet. The stone cracked, softened, melted. Vera stumbled, off balance.

Mason swept her legs. She fell.

"I yield," she said, not because she was hurt, because she knew when a fight was lost.

Two down.

Mira’s barrier flickered as she divided her attention. Sera fired three bolts in rapid succession—not at Mira, at the corners of the barrier. The impacts shattered the structure. Mira stumbled, her concentration broken.

Derek’s ghosts surged forward, pinning her arms.

"I yield," she said, breathless.

Three down.

Lena melted into the shadows, retreating toward Dorian. Derek’s ghosts couldn’t follow her there.

Lucian watched her go.

Dorian’s smile was gone.

He looked at his remaining teammate—Lena, still standing—and then at Ashen Dawn, bloodied but unbroken.

"Interesting," he said.

The whistle blew. The referee stepped between them.

"End of round one. Silver Falcons retain three members. Ashen Dawn has all five. No knockout. Round two begins in five minutes."

Cora limped to Lucian, her chest heaving. "I hate him."

"You’re not alone."

"I almost had him."

"Guess I’m stepping in now."

Lucian said cracking his knuckles.