The sparring hall reeked of heat and pride.
Aetherwyn's lower training vault was carved directly into the obsidian foundation of the academy. Columns of blackened stone reached up into endless darkness, the floor scorched and rune-marked from centuries of duel magic.
Aurora stood at the edge of the arena ring, heart hammering. Her breath fogged slightly in the cold air, and a flickering light hovered above them — a containment ward set by instructors. A ring of students gathered, eager for the spectacle.
It wasn't a class.
It was a challenge.
And Lyra D'Venn had made it public.
"I'm sorry — what exactly are the rules here?" Aurora asked.
The instructor overseeing the match — a woman named Master Arvain, known more for her dueling scars than her patience — didn't answer.
Instead, Lyra spoke.
"First blood. First submission. Or burnout," she said, her tone sweet and dripping with superiority. "Unless, of course, the unmarked prefers to forfeit?"
Aurora met her gaze. "Not a chance."
Lyra smiled. "Perfect."
It had started two days earlier, after the sigilfire incident in the atrium. The academy buzzed with theories: that Aurora was a plant. A cursed echo. A magical mimic. Lyra had been the loudest voice questioning her right to remain.
"You don't belong here," she had whispered that morning in passing. "You're a shadow walking in light. And light burns shadows."
Now, here they were.
The ring flared to life.
Students lined the outer circle. Among them, Aurora saw Willow watching anxiously. Ethan stood behind her, expression unreadable.
And beside Arvain — silent and cold — stood Atlas Thorne.
Aurora's magic rippled just beneath her skin.
"Begin," Arvain said.
Lyra moved first — fast.
A whip of silver light slashed toward Aurora's shoulder. She dodged, barely, then summoned a pulse of energy she didn't understand, letting instinct pull her hand upward.
The air bent.
Lyra stumbled, her own spell warped mid-flight.
Gasps echoed.
Aurora blinked — she hadn't meant to do that. Her pulse roared. She raised both hands now, feeling the hum of raw magic building fast.
Lyra's eyes narrowed.
"Cheap tricks," she hissed.
Then the temperature dropped.
Frost spread along the stone as Lyra summoned a spear of ice and hurled it toward Aurora's chest.
Aurora's hands moved without thought — a wall of fire burst from her palms, the flames gold at the edges, but with a violet heart.
The spear melted midair.
The flame kept going.
Lyra screamed — and threw a shield just in time.
But the flame licked through it, catching her sleeve. Smoke curled into the air.
"Enough!" Arvain barked.
The ring flared dark red.
Lyra fell to one knee.
Aurora stood, unmoving, magic still coiled around her like a living thing.
The silence afterward was heavier than any applause could've been.
Arvain raised a hand. "Winner: Aurora Lane. Cease fire."
Aurora exhaled sharply.
Lyra glared up at her, eyes full of hatred and something else — fear.
She didn't speak as she stood and brushed soot from her uniform
But her voice rang out clear as she passed Aurora on her way out of the ring:
"You didn't win that match. You survived it. Next time, your fire won't save you."
Outside the sparring chamber, Aurora sat against the stone wall, trying to calm the rush still buzzing in her limbs.
Atlas approached. His shadow touched her boots before he spoke.
"You didn't hold back."
"I didn't know how to," she said quietly.
He crouched beside her, hands folded.
"That spell," he said, "was Veilborn fire. Old magic. Buried."
"I didn't mean to cast it."
"That's why it worked."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Aurora said, "She hates me."
"She fears you," Atlas corrected. "That's more dangerous."
Aurora turned toward him. "Do you?"
Atlas didn't answer.
And that, more than anything, shook her.
Ethan found her later, in the courtyard beneath the silverleaf trees.
He didn't speak at first — just sat beside her on the fountain edge.
"I saw your fire," he said at last.
"I didn't mean—"
"I liked it."
She blinked at him.
He gave a crooked smile. "You burn beautifully."
She laughed once — dry and surprised.
Then he leaned closer, his voice low.
"You scare them. And they should be scared. Because you're not meant to be shaped by their rules. You're meant to break them."
Aurora looked at him.
He was serious.
And for the first time since arriving at Aetherwyn, she didn't feel like a mistake.
She felt like a beginning.