The school field stretched before them, green and open, dotted with students moving between classes. Two days until the second round of the competition. The air carried excited chatter—speculation about matchups, predictions about winners, the buzz of anticipation that had gripped the Academy since the first round ended. Aren stood at the center of the field, hands in his pockets, expression calm. Marcus stood across from him. They faced each other in silence. Students passed without noticing—or without caring. Just two students talking. Nothing unusual. Marcus spoke first. “What have you done to me?” His voice was steady. Not angry. Not accusing. Simply searching. Aren regarded him for a moment. “I took what wasn’t yours,” he said. “And gave it to its original owner.” Marcus let out a slow breath. He nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “So you took the only thing special about me,” he said, “and gave it to my younger sister.” He paused. “I don’t know if I should b

The Grand Hall had been transformed overnight. Gone were the festival banners and the competition stands. In their place, a single circular dais dominated the center of the hall, polished obsidian gleaming under the enchanted chandeliers. The tiered seating had been rearranged—first-years on the left, second-years on the right, faculty and spectators filling the upper galleries. Aren sat with his fellow first-years near the front. Seraphina was beside him, her expression unreadable. Elara sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap. Lyssa was at the edge of the group, her pale violet eyes scanning the hall. Across the aisle, the second-years waited. Brienne Stonewall—tall, muscular, her presence somehow both intimidating and warm. Selene Frost—cold, elegant, silver hair pulled back. Silas Vance—unremarkable in appearance, but something in his eyes made people uneasy. Kieran Storm—still, watchful, his golden eyes missing nothing. Headmaster Vex stood at the dais, a crystal bowl in hi