Vyrrak folds his arms over his chest.

  “This is a plot from Father,” Vyrrak says. “He is obsessed with the idea that I must become a Breaker. He pushes it every time he breathes. I refuse. My true essence is that of a Dagger, Syrraxia. I’ve told you not to meddle.”

  Syrraxia’s eyes narrow and Guinevere stiffens.

  Jacob waits a beat for King Baalrek’s voice to start explaining something about Breakers and Daggers. His mind reaches for that dry commentary that used to appear whenever anything related to war or bloodlines came up.

  But nothing answers.

  The silence hits him and he flinches. His jaw tightens and he grimaces because he remembers that King Baalrek is gone. There is no old Infernal in his head anymore who will lecture him.

  But he still knows enough to understand why everyone reacts this way.

  Highbloods and Infernals are usually more versatile in their style, and they can spread their talents across swordplay, curse work, and politics. Dragonkin do not need that. They can rely on brute force and an insane aptitude for destructive magic that no one else matches.

  Vice Principal Caradoc acts shamelessly ignorant about that, yet Jacob can tell by the small spark in the man’s eyes that he himself is involved in all of this.

  Damn it, Jacob thinks, and then turns to the other Champion in the room.

  “Vyrrak,” Jacob clears his throat. “What is happening exactly?”

  Syrraxia tilts her chin up. The torchlight glints on her black scales.

  “I do not care,” Syrraxia cuts off Jacob. “Breaker or Dagger, you will stand at my side. I will obtain your hand no matter what you say, Vyrrak.”

  His hand?! Jacob feels even more exasperated.

  Her voice carries insane confidence.

  Guinevere’s fingers curl tighter around her large sword.

  Jacob’s mind drifts for a moment.

  Othen than the idiosyncracy of Syrraxia asking Vyrrak’s hand… Are all Champions this sought after? he thinks. The same thing happened with Zibrek. That madwoman Princess Naar’ethra chased her across half the continent. Now there is Syrraxia who wants to marry Vyrrak if he… doesnt’... pass a Class today? Is that… can she do that? Who the hell is Vyrrak’s father, even?

  “Queen Syrraxia, please sit,” Vice Principal Caradoc says.

  He gestures toward a stone bench at the side of the class.

  Syrraxia’s eyes gleam when he uses the title.

  “Vice Principal, I’m sorry for causing a ruckus. Would you like to explain to my future husband what’s going on?”

  Jacob wonders if this is going to keep escalating with every Champion.

  What’s next, are we mounting a show, a play about unrequited love and forced marriages every other Class?

  Honestly, looking at Vyrrak and Guinevere and Syrraxia he feels tired.

  Champions should be focusing on becoming Knights. The world is burning and gods are awakening.

  In fact, he wonders how Vyrrak even managed to marry so young. The math is… questionable.

  Wait, didn’t my mother mention that I’d marry myself at his age or something? Isn’t Vyrrak a few years older than me?

  “Well, Vyrrak, for someone of your position and obbligations, your father can void your marriage, legally-speaking. Since I’m so close to him, I actually offered a way out for you.”

  Jacob sees Vyrrak starting to turn shades of red on his scales out of the fury he’s experiencing.

  “A way out?” Vyrrak hisses, probably guessing where this is going.

  “Your father simply wanted to void your marriage with the sweet Guinevere, here. So, my idea was to propose that, if you follow the path that your very blood marked for you…” Now, something in Vice Principal Caradoc’s voice changes, becomes deeper—too deep for someone his diminutive size. “Your destiny is clear, Vyrrak. Your blood has all the answers you need. Once you embrace the Dance of Dragons and turn a Breaker, you’ll be unstoppable. It has been ages since anyone has seen a bloodline as pure as yours. Even among Dragonkin, your blood is closer to a Dragon than otherwise. You wield power that will shake the very foundation of this world.”

  “I do not care about what you and my father say, Caradoc! I told him I will make my own path, my own way! I don’t need to be a Breaker for it! And if he thinks he can control me—”

  “He can,” Vice Principal Caradoc says, taking a deep breath and projecting his aura so strongly that Vyrrak immediately shuts up from the sheer pressure. “He can and he will. I offered you mercy. Do not be ungrateful, child.”

  Vice Principal Caradoc steps forward from his podium and the air turns fire to sustain him on blazing clouds.

  Vice Principal Caradoc looks at Jacob and at Queen Syrraxia.

  “I am going to give you a demonstration of what I am saying,” he says.

  He steps higher and to the center of the room.

  He straightens his spine. He draws in a long breath.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Suddenly, Jacob and everyone present feel like they’re not witnessing a shiny-balded man that’s only four feet tall. For some reason, his aura projects Vice Principal Caradoc’s figure as if he was a giant.

  But he’s still small.

  Now, he starts slowly moving through the air.

  His hands cut arcs in front of him. His feet slide across the air in a dance-like move. It’s so light, so effortless that it makes him look like he’s gliding in the air as if it was water, as if he was touching and grasping the very framework of the air.

  Then, out of nowhere, the air that moves around him, that creates friction upon his digits, catches on fire.

  But it’s a slow bloom, like a tinder that takes slowly. A few embers at first and only along the very tip of his fingers. Then, it spreads to his close, and it blossoms and blooms as it slowly envelops his entire body in his a sparkling design of vines made of fire.

  The temperature climbs. At first it is a pleasant warmth. Then it becomes a heavy heat that presses on their faces and beads sweat on their foreheads.

  The flames do not lash wildly. They swirl around Vice Principal Caradoc in tight spirals. The motion of his body shapes them into a pattern that feels like a living thing.

  Jacob feels that the display of martial art creates an aura of its own, separate from Vice Principal Caradoc. The man stands at the center and the fire turns into a second body that dances with him.

  “Woah,” Jacob says before he can stop himself.

  Queen Syrraxia’s eyes shine. “Beautiful,” she murmurs.

  Guinevere watches with a different intensity. Her gaze flicks between the fire and her husband, as if she is measuring how this dance would fit him.

  Vyrrak watches with his arms still crossed.

  “Vice Principal Caradoc is probably among the top five strongest people at the Academy,” Vyrrak says. His tone is grudging because he hates giving the man points. “He is not at the bottom of that ranking either.”

  Jacob files the information away. If Vyrrak says that, it means Vice Principal Caradoc sits close to the Headmaster and the other monsters in terms of fire-power.

  Vice Principal Caradoc stops.

  He brings his hands together with a sharp clap. The flames collapse. The aura vanishes. The temperature drops back to normal so fast that Jacob feels a small shiver.

  “This is a Primordial Spell,” Vice Principal Caradoc says. “The Dance of Dragons. It requires no Skill Crystal. It is carved into the foundation of fire itself. It is almost impossible to master unless you have incredible talent or unless you are a Dragon… or one of the most pureblooded Dragonkin. To the best of my knowledge, I am one of two who ever mastered this move and did not share Dragon-blood.”

  He looks straight at Vyrrak as he says the last part.

  “Dragonkin have an unrivaled affinity with fire,” Vice Principal Caradoc says. “That is why I say it is foolish of you to refuse to become a Breaker who masters the Dance of Dragons. You were born for this.”

  Syrraxia nods along.

  Vyrrak does not look away.

  “The Dance of Dragons is strong,” Vyrrak says. “I am not blind. I can see that.”

  He takes a breath. His tail settles. “I do not care,” he says. “I know my future is a Dagger, old man. And I can’t be a Dagger if every step of mine creates damn fire! Neither Father nor you seem to understand it.”

  His voice does not shake. He speaks as if he has repeated this a hundred times already.

  Vice Principal Caradoc’s face hardens.

  “This is a childish tantrum,” Vice Principal Caradoc says. “You cling to a fighting style where your talent will just be wasted! You stand on the edge of losing your wife and you still act like this?! You still refuse to take the path that fits your blood?!” Then, the old man breathes deeply and takes his sweet smile back. “So I wonder who you love the most. Your fantasy of being a Dagger or Guinevere.”

  Jacob steps off the bleachers.

  “That seems quite unfair,” Jacob says. His tone is flat because if he lets his anger show, the room might catch fire again. “You cannot tell someone to abandon his style and identity just because of his father. I’m sure there are a thousand ways to skin a cat. Why can’t Vyrrak forge his own path?” Then, he turns to Vyrrak. “Do not cede to this. You can petition the Headmaster for help. You cannot be forced to marry another woman when you are already married. That is insane.”

  When Vyrrak hears that, he grimaces. His gaze drops to the floor.

  “Not even the Headmaster can change this,” Vyrrak says. “This is very serious. This is Dragonkin law. Father bound it with old oaths. Not even the Headmaster wants to untie those. Marriage is… not something the Headmaster concerns himself with.”

  Vice Principal Caradoc’s expression shifts. Something unreadable crosses his face and disappears. He says nothing.

  Queen Syrraxia’s eyes blaze.

  “Who are you to meddle in the affairs of Dragonkin,” she says. Her voice climbs. “You spineless virgin.”

  The word cracks across the room.

  Jacob opens his mouth and fails to find a reply fast enough.

  Vyrrak steps forward so fast that the air pops.

  “Who are you to call him a spineless man,” Vyrrak says. He points a clawed finger at Syrraxia. “You are talking to the Guide of Champions. He might be a virgin, yet he is a fearless leader who saved all the Champions’ lives more than once. As far as being a virgin goes, that is not his fault. He works too hard to worry about human females!”

  Jacob stares at Vyrrak.

  “Vyrrak,” Jacob starts, “please, you don’t need to go there—”

  Guinevere nods as if she just heard a reasonable argument.

  “The Guide of Champions might be a virgin,” Guinevere says, “yet I heard from my husband that the Infernal Crown Princess Iskara Drazhal herself is after him. Apparently even his nemesis, the Leader of the Dark Champions, is. This is a man devoted to more than earthly pleasures. He clearly has the purest heart. He is basically a monk.”

  Jacob feels heat rush to his face. He reaches the point where embarrassment loops back into numbness.

  Who are you calling a damn monk?! he thinks, consternated.

  Vice Principal Caradoc clears his throat.

  “I am happy that some students are so devoted to work,” Caradoc says. “Romantic distractions can ruin a promising career.”

  Jacob spins toward him. “I am not devoted to work,” Jacob says, flustered. “Can we stop with this nonsense?!" His voice jumps half an octave. Which does not help his case.

  “We were talking about important things,” Jacob says.

  Vice Principal Caradoc nods once. The brief hint of amusement in his eyes shuts off.

  “You have no choice,” Caradoc says to Vyrrak. “You have to accept. The Dance of Dragons is your path. You will fail this trial or you will take it seriously and become what you are meant to be. You have the talent, Vyrrak. Don’t disappoint me.”

  Vyrrak’s jaw tightens.

  “The version of the Dance of Dragons that you are trying to teach me is too advanced,” Vyrrak says. “It is functionally a Diamond ranked one. It belongs to the three-hundred level courses. You know it. You pretend this is basic when it is not. We are in the 201 Class, old man. I can learn it. But I won’t become a Breaker.”

  Vice Principal Caradoc shrugs. “Perhaps it is more advanced than the course suggests,” he says. “At the same time, you are a Champion of the Generation of Legends. It is not a stretch to expect you to meet a Diamond standard. If you want to keep that title, you should prove that you deserve it.”

  Vice Principal Caradoc turns his gaze on Jacob.

  “Since you are the Guide of Champions,” Caradoc says, “what do you think. Should your friend give up yet and accept his role in order to truly become the best Knight he can?”

  Everyone looks at Jacob.

  Jacob scratches his cheek and looks at the spot where the fire danced a minute ago.

  “To learn that circus trick?” Jacob says. “I don’t think so.”

  “Circus trick?!” Queen Syrraxia jumps off her seet with her black scales starting to heat up. “How do you dare insult one of the greatest Primordial Spells of my people!?”

  “Jacob, this old man might not be a good person, but his mastery over the Dance of Dragons is…”

  “Circus trick?” Vice Principal Caradoc cuts off Jacob. “Would you like to explain yourself, Jacob?”

  “You just played the same trick twice,” Jacob says and smiles.