The sight of Rosie’s blood staining the dirt made my stomach twist.

  She lay sprawled on her side, eyes squeezed shut in agony. The gag in her mouth dampened from her spit. Under any other circumstances, my first instinct would’ve been to kneel down and help, to do anything to stop her pain. But after everything I’d said to my friends—after everything her people had done to the voidbloods—who was I to stop it? If we hesitated, we’d die. But still, I couldn’t help myself.

  “Hey, loosen their gags,” I said to Jako.

  The tall upperclassman looked at me, confused, and raised his eyebrow.

  “Eh? Why should I bother? You know what they would’ve done to us if we were the ones tied up?” He snorted and sat her up next to her captured comrades.

  Fern stirred in my head. I felt a muted apology that neither of us could voice aloud. We both knew Rosie would’ve ended us if she’d had the chance. That logic didn’t lessen the guilt churning in my core. Or Fern’s. At least we hadn’t killed her. Yet a small part of me wondered if leaving her maimed was an even worse fate.

  Something still didn’t sit right with me. She seemed . . . changed. The sweet girl who Fern remembered and who I had met just a few months ago now behaved like a brainwashed cult member.

  What did Noah and the magebloods do to her? I wondered.

  But now I saw she was crying. For her fallen master.

  I looked over across the ground where she and the others lay. Their master, Noriguen, lay face down near them. Beside my feet was a small white flower, really a weed, but everything else was charred to ash. I reached down between my hooves and plucked it from the ground. I felt a sense of approval from Fern and approached Rosie slowly. As I stepped up near her, her eyes opened up in fear. I gently raised the flower and placed it on top of Noriguen.

  “From you,” I said with my low chimera voice. I nodded at the flower and then at her.

  As I backed away slowly, her expression didn’t change, but she did look at the flower.

  Above me, Waelid clashed with the last mageblood, a young man in white-and-gold robes—another student.

  Why did Noah bring so many students? I wondered. Why not stronger, older mages? These kids . . . they’ve never even seen combat. Not like this.

  ‘I was wondering the same thing,’ Fern said.

  Either we were lucky, or we’d stumbled into a deeper trap. Whatever the reason, Waelid was enjoying himself far too much.

  He toyed with the floating mageblood, outpacing every spell. Bolts of fire and lightning fizzled uselessly, while Waelid swooped behind him like a predator, raking taloned claws across the boy’s back. The mageblood howled in pain.

  This isn’t right. We could win easily. Let’s end it and move on to the bigger threat.

  “Waelid!” I shouted up. “Don’t kill him, just knock him out!”

  He either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. Waelid climbed higher, his phoenix form on full display. He had four massive red wings spread in an X behind him, arms still mostly human though lined with flaming feathers. His feet had morphed into razor-sharp talons. He looked more like a wild angel of fire than bird. His clothes had transformed with him and became a flowing black-and-gold combat robe with a maroon sash.

  The mageblood started hurling random blasts of heat and electricity, panicking. He looked like a moth with torn wings, thrashing in midair while the phoenix soared around him.

  “Waelid!” I yelled again, launching myself upward. As I flew, I spotted Waelid curling his wings and preparing to dive-bomb.

  I pushed my wings to their limit, tapping into our synergy. I intercepted the mageblood boy first. He screamed as I seized him. He raised his hands to cast something, but I yanked one arm behind him until I felt a sickening pop. He shrieked, lashing out with frantic kicks. He looked like a thrashing child in my arms. In my chimera form, I looked more like a monster than a helpful rescuer. Locking him in a headlock, I descended to the ground. The boy soon passed out from pain or lack of oxygen.

  Sora strode over, clothes caked in drying blood. “Nice work, Erik,” she said, saluting me like we weren’t both first-years. “I’ll take this one.”

  “Sora—” I began, but it was too late. She’d already grabbed the boy’s hand and held it firm while she pulled out a thick knife. She pulled her arm back to cut off the unconscious mageblood’s right hand, but I stopped her.

  “Wait!” I shouted. Sora froze and looked up at me, tilting her head.

  “It’s just . . . It’s too brutal. Cut off his thumb. He won’t be able to use magic effectively. He barely could as is.”

  Sora gave me a small smile and nodded. She quickly cut his thumb off and then she dragged him over to where Rosie and the older mageblood lay, both bound and gagged.

  I grimaced at the small collection of prisoners we had collected. Waelid finally landed nearby.

  You okay, Fern? I asked.

  ‘We . . . we did what we had to do, I guess.’ Fern’s reply was quiet.

  Waelid wore a broad grin, seemingly unbothered by the carnage. “Never thought the magebloods were this stupid,” he said, glancing at the three captives. “Sending kids younger than us to seize our academy—what a bunch of burning fools. You stole my kill up there, Erik. Why’d you do it?”

  I stood almost the same height as Waelid when we were both transformed, though I was broader, more feral looking. “Because we don’t need to kill them all,” I said. “If they escape and report back to the royal court, they’ll call us barbarians who slaughter children.”

  “They already think that, you idiot,” Waelid countered. “No matter how this ends, we’re the villains in their story. Might as well kill off a few while we can.”

  “It’s not right—it doesn’t sit well with me.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Waelid scoffed. “Erik . . . what is ‘right’? What is ‘honor’? These bastards would crush us if they had the chance. They were toying with our friends, keeping the villagers hostage as they burned the town down, and currently have all the professors tied up in the academy. Right now, we are at the brink of total collapse. Stop having moral dilemmas right now. This isn’t the time. You said it yourself. Now take your advice.” He turned away to bark orders at Sora, something about having some housemates lock up the newly captured magebloods inside the dorm.

  I exhaled through clenched teeth, acknowledging that he wasn’t entirely wrong. But something felt off—these mageblood kids weren’t prepared. Their reactions and slow spells hinted they’d never faced our savage style of fighting. I kept thinking the same thing, over and over again: Why would Noah bring them here? Surely he, the “magelord” of Stylos, would know about the strength of third-level-infused Cinders?

  ‘You’re overthinking it again,’ Fern whispered.

  You’re right, I agreed. Eight magebloods down, four left. Time to focus.

  I walked to the dorm entrance, where Waelid stood with his arms folded.

  “You done regretting your little rescue?” he teased.

  I forced a sigh. “Let’s just focus on what’s next—protecting the academy.”

  His eyes flickered with mild contempt. “Good. I sent Jako to check on Houses Nin and Enlil. Told him to gather whoever’s left and bring them to the academy gates.”

  About twenty minutes later, I stood outside the gates with Waelid, Galina, Tevin, Mel, Sora, and Luna—seven of us in total, waiting for Jako’s return. I thought about Silas, but Tevin had told me his arm got severely damaged in the last battle, and according to the gearhead, “I will be more useless than a beakless bird.”

  I drew in my power, returning me to my human form.

  “What if we sneak in first?” I suggested to Waelid as I rubbed my shoulder. “Grab some strong potions or a knockout drug for the magelord?”

  “No time,” Waelid said. “What if they butcher the teachers while we fool around? You’d hate yourself.”

  “Any idea where the professors might be kept?” I asked Galina.

  She scratched her smooth, glass chin. Her body had repaired itself of all earlier cracks. “Heard they might be in the lower levels.”

  “Hey, look!” Sora pointed. Jako appeared at the far end of the road, flanked by two shapes.

  Jiho, the chapter master of House Enlil, walked at Jako’s side. Behind them was Piqah, the House Nin leader, her pink head bowed.

  As they neared, Jako came up and whispered to me and Waelid, “Barrett is dead. Piqah’s ready to kill anything in her way. She’s lucid, but, man, I’d stay out of her path.”

  I gritted my teeth at the news.

  Damn . . . Barrett?

  ‘I wonder who did it,’ Fern whispered.

  Jiho stepped forward, nodding curtly at me. “So you’re the twin soul,” he said in that serious tone he was known for. “Jako claims you and Waelid reached the third stage? Said you two alone took down eight magebloods. Is that all correct?”

  Waelid smirked. “Yep, reached stage three in under a month. One of the benefits of Major Philip liking you.”

  Jiho ran a hand through his short black hair. “That’s . . . unbelievable. If we survive this, you’ll teach me. You must.” Jiho rested his hand on Waelid’s shoulder.

  Waelid shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  Behind Jiho, Piqah hovered in silence. I wanted to offer condolences about Barrett but hesitated, uncertain how to approach her.

  She must be torn apart. She and Barrett were close . . . I can’t imagine how she must be feeling.

  We all followed Waelid inside the academy. No real plan was given other than we would figure it out as we went. Classic Waelid. He was already feeling confident again about his power, especially after taking on so many magebloods. Piqah lagged behind the group. I looked back and saw her vacant self—her fists clenched, eyes distant. I slowed my steps, letting the others go ahead.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Fern asked.

  Don’t you see she is teetering on the edge? She has experienced immense trauma. We can’t just say anything, I said to him.

  I fell behind next to her.

  “I heard what happened,” I said softly.

  She glanced up, her eyes rimmed red. “Yeah?” Her fists were still clenched and started to shake.

  ‘You sure this isn’t a mistake?’ Fern asked.

  Piqah swallowed. “Barrett was an idiot,” she whispered. “Always the first to charge into a fight. But the minute a little danger heads my way, what does he do? Forgets all his training and rushes toward me.” She took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “He loved our House Nin. He said if anyone died first, he’d want it to be him. I just didn’t think it would happen so fast. Three years, gone in an instant.”

  I was quiet for a moment, and let her catch her breath.

  “He did it protecting you all, right?” I asked.

  Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. If it wasn’t for the uneven terrain down into the academy, she probably would have cried. “Yeah. He drew the attention of the two magebloods. Led them away from where we were hiding . . . before they finally overpowered him. After that, they left, and that’s when you fought them.”

  “That’s brave,” I said quietly. “He’s . . . he’s a hero, Piqah. I’ll make sure his name is remembered. Later, when we win, you will tell his story and we will write it down.”

  She nodded, biting her lip. “We have to win. I won’t let him die for nothing,” she whispered, voice cracking. Then she glanced away, blinking furiously. “Let’s keep going,” she added, stepping up her pace to join the group.

  I let her pass me, feeling the ache of her grief. I hoped she found closure—or some sort of calm.

  The crystal light flickered and surged before settling again as we ran down the stairway to the lower floors. The ground shook, and the stones under our feet groaned.

  Jiho glanced at Waelid. “What’s going on in there?”

  Waelid’s lips curved into a grin. “That’s probably Major Philip and Laska, going wild.”

  Mel’s eyes lit up. “Finally, I get to see Laska’s infusion.” Without waiting, she sprinted through the door, weapon at the ready. We exchanged brief looks of exasperation and followed.

  Waelid guided us down a wide, curving staircase big enough for all ten of us. I stuck to the edge, near Luna, who kept her voice low.

  “You’ve changed everything, you know,” she murmured.

  “Thanks,” I said, cracking a smile.

  “Did I say that was a good thing?” she said firmly.

  I gulped as Luna continued. “Erik, everything that has happened since you walked into the academy has changed every single event that I lived in each of my past eight lives. The invasion didn’t happen until years later. And Noah never used novices like these kids—he came with a much larger, much more trained force. His private army.”

  “Why would he attack sooner? Just because of me?” I asked.

  Luna shrugged. “I am equally confused. We need to be ready for anything.”

  I nodded grimly. “But what about you? You haven’t interfered much at all, it seems. Are you not strong enough for them?”

  Luna gave a tiny sigh. “I have one life left. Forgive me for being a little guarded.” She pressed on and we descended deeper below the academy, following Waelid’s lead and the sound of crumbling stone.

  The corridor’s air turned stale and cold. We passed crumbled wooden doors, broken lamps, and scorch marks. Eventually, we reached a large double door, slightly ajar, leading into a warehouse-like space.

  We paused at the entrance, crouching low. Blue crystals lit the interior, reflecting off enormous buckets of pillardust. In the middle, I spotted over a hundred professors and staff—everyone from senior instructors to the librarian, Mrs. Brindle—huddled together, bound in glowing gold chains. A tall, skinny figure in all-black robes paced around on one side, gripping a short scepter with a mother-of-pearl-colored orb. Opposite him stood a young elf-like girl. The mage had absurdly long, pointed ears and wore the same white and gold that the novices outside wore.

  A loud crash erupted from the far side of the warehouse-like open room. I craned my head beside Waelid’s. We watched as Laska and Major Philip were held in the air by large golden chains coming out from the sleeves of a mage floating high above the rest.

  He had a deep blue robe with gold-and-white trimming all around him. His hood had a cape, and his cape had tassels. He had dozens, if not hundreds, of medals clanking around his body almost like an armor of awards. The man had deep brown hair and a thin, well-manicured beard. He looked older, but there was no doubt about it: the magelord himself, Noah, my brother, held the two Cinders high in the air.

  “You see! The movement, the vibration, you saw how I did that, boy?” Noah said. His voice was slightly deeper than I remembered, but it was what my brother would have sounded like if he had aged five years.

  “Yes, Master.” The fourth mageblood turned to make space for Noah as the magelord set the major and Laska on the ground, still in chains, back in their human forms.

  And as if the fates themselves were writing my reality for me, when the fourth mageblood turned around, it was, of course, Lotrick.