The next day, the duels between the Dominars continued.
Rhosyn stood on the sidelines with Allette perched on her shoulder, watching the matches closely. If anyone got seriously hurt, she was there to heal. Davor sat beside her, arms resting on his knees. His presence wasn't just for show—if things got too intense, he was the one expected to intervene.
They sat close, but not a word passed between them.
Not a glance. Not a sound.Just awkward silence.
Davor pulled out a bag of snacks. He munched lazily, trying to distract himself. Sweetcorn flavor. He stared at the bag for a second, then, without turning, quietly nudged it toward Rhosyn.
Rhosyn glanced at the snack. Then looked away.
Arms crossed. Eyes locked on the fight.But after a moment, without a word, she reached out and took a chip.
Still no words. No eye contact.
Allette busied herself flying to and from the injured students, her wings glowing faintly as she healed bruises and cuts.
Meanwhile, some of the students who had already finished their duels, like Cael and Darain, sat further back on the steps, watching the new matches unfold.
Cael had his arms draped across his knees, silent, watching.
"What do you think happened?"
Cael flinched slightly, startled. He had been alone—at least he thought so.Lucen wouldn't sneak up on him like that.Lucen wouldn't whisper anything at all, really.
He turned his head—and there was Darain, looking at Marshal Davor and Rhosyn with a speculative glint in his eyes.
"Love quarrel?" Darain added, raising his brows.
Cael didn't answer. He just turned his gaze back to the arena.
"What do you think?" Darain asked again, now settling beside him like they were old friends.
Cael sighed. "Why are you here again? Don't you have anyone else to bother? And no, I'm still not helping you find that ring."
"Well," Darain drawled, shrugging, "I don't like talking to just anyone—"
"Then stop talking to me," Cael cut him off, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Darain just blinked at him…
And then—
BANG.
A thunderous explosion rocked the ground, followed by a wave of scorching heat. A burst of destructive fire magic tore through one of the Dominion bases, reducing part of it to smoldering ruin.
Every eye turned.
Even the students in the middle of their duel stopped, panting, stunned.
Davor and Rhosyn shot to their feet, scanning the horizon, confusion and tension written across their faces.
BOOM.
Another blast. More intense than the first.
Another Dominion base lit up in flames, black smoke rising like a stormcloud into the sky.
"W-What's happening? Is it an enemy attack?" one student asked, voice trembling.
Davor didn't answer immediately. He narrowed his eyes in the direction of the blast.
"I'll take a look. Keep the students safe," he said to Rhosyn, already drawing his weapon
Whisperfang. A slender, curved blade, runes glowing along its ravensteel edge. A weapon built not for show, but for speed and precision.
And in the blink of an eye—he vanished.
Rhosyn turned sharply to the students. "Everyone, evacuate! Get to the dome—now!"
She raised her hand, signaling the Dawnguard nearby to help herd them to safety.
But before anyone could move—The air shifted. The wind held its breath.
A woman appeared in the sky, hovering above the field.
Her presence alone halted every step.
She wore a long, flowing crimson dress that rippled like flame in the air. Her golden hair glowed, licking the wind like fire itself. Eyes—glowing gold—swept the battlefield. In her arms, golden fire coiled and twisted like a living serpent, hissing with power.
She wasn't casting a spell. She was the spell.
Cael stood frozen. His breath caught in his throat.
His mind blanked, unable to think or speak.
It wasn't fear. It was awe.
She didn't look real.
She looked like a myth, a god, a vision pulled from the heart of a dying star.
Majestic.
That was the only word Cael could grasp.
And yet, she wasn't looking at them.
She was searching—for someone.
Meanwhile, as Cael remained frozen in awe, beside him—
Darain crouched low, inching backward like a thief escaping a crime scene, his boots barely making a sound on the grass.
Until—
FWOOOSH.
A fireball slammed into the ground in front of him, stopping him dead.
"What is wrong with you?!" Darain shouted, instinctively activating the golden watch on his wrist. A relic of his wealthy lineage, the artifact shimmered to life, forming a protective barrier that absorbed the heat.
"You almost killed me!"
"I will kill you, idiot!" the woman in the sky shouted back, her voice burning as hot as her fire.
Before he could respond, another fireball hurtled toward him.
Darain dodged—barely—rolling over the grass like a startled animal.
"Evacuate now!" Rhosyn's voice cut through the chaos like a whip, commanding the remaining students to flee toward the dome.
She stayed behind, watching with narrowed eyes.
Who was this woman?
And how did she know Darain?
Darain had had enough. He yanked a rifle from the sling on his back, standing with a grin.
"Alright, psycho. Let's play."
But the woman in red just laughed, a slow, mocking cackle.
"Idiot," she said—and hurled another blazing pit of fire.
Darain squeezed the trigger—BANG.
The bullet pierced the fireball, scattering its flames in a burst of light and smoke.
Her smile dropped.
One of her eyebrows twitched.
"Who's the idiot now, old woman?" Darain smirked.
The temperature around them surged.
Her expression twisted into rage as she launched a much bigger, more dangerous fireball.
Darain's smirk vanished.
"Oh shit."
He ran.
"You crazy old woman! Why are you doing this?! I'm telling my mother!" he yelled, bolting across the field as the massive fireball chased him like a rabid dog.
"Give me back my ring, idiot! I swear I'll kill you!" she roared.
From his sprint, Darain shouted back: "You can fly! Why do you need a ring?! Greedy old witch!"
"I'm not old, you idiot! I'll BURN YOU TO ASH!"
She raised one hand to her chest, fingers crossed, eyes glowing gold.
Cael, still rooted in place, finally understood—they knew each other.
Then she chanted—
"O blaze of heaven, heed my call,
Break the clouds and let ash fall.
Emberfall."
Darain's ears perked mid-sprint.
His soul sank.
"YOU'RE CRAZY! YOU'RE GONNA KILL US ALL OVER A DAMN RING!"
Then— BOOM.
The clouds split.
Fire rained down from the sky.
"CRAZY. OLD. WOMAN!" Darain screamed, weaving between burning craters, his coat catching tiny embers as the inferno chased him like divine punishment.
"All this—because of a ring? These two are insane," Cael muttered while he was sprinting for cover.
And then—
From afar, a voice rang out—calm, commanding, crystalline:
"Still the storm, silence the flame—
Flow and freeze, I reclaim!
Frostbind Curtain!"
A burst of frost surged into the sky.
From the open field above, a dome of ice materialized mid-air, thick and gleaming. It swallowed the incoming flames in a sudden wave of cold, extinguishing the fire rain with a soft crackling hiss.
Cael turned his head toward the caster.
She stood poised, elegant and focused. Her uniform bore the insignia of the Aetherion Division—the elite among the academy. In her hands was a wand taller than herself, unlike any Cael had seen. Its head: a bronze circular structure with a soft, sage-colored aura swirling at its center. The shaft: black, sleek, and accented with subtle bronze engravings.
Her hair was long, jet black, cut straight with sharp hime-style bangs, but what caught his attention was the subtle sage green underlayer of her hair, which shimmered in the light.
She looked young—but powerful. Too powerful for a regular student.
Cael narrowed his eyes, squinting.
Was she really a student?
Because her presence screamed Night Watcher.
Then, with quiet footsteps—
Garran appeared beside her.
"That's enough, Dahni," he said, calm but firm.
Then, turning to the wand-wielder beside him, he smiled politely.
"Thank you for lending your power, Salleliah."
The girl bowed respectfully.
"My pleasure."
Cael stared—Salleliah? So that's her name…
But Garran's attention now shifted to the sky, to the floating fire-wielding girl.
"Let's have a talk, Miss Verault." His voice, even and unshaken, carried weight.
From above, Dahni Verault sighed. She rolled her eyes, then slowly descended to the ground, still glowing faintly from residual fire magic.
Darain, pale and scorched in places, immediately darted toward Garran like a frightened child and ducked behind him.
"You too," Garran said without turning. "Come with me."
Darain's voice cracked. "No. She's gonna kill me."
"She won't lay a finger on you," Garran replied evenly.
Darain peeked out from behind the chief's shoulder. His sister was now walking toward them. She wasn't even trying to hide the fact that she was out for blood.
"We need to talk," Garran continued, glancing at the smoking ruin of the dominion base. "Look around you."
Darain followed his gaze. Half the base was reduced to rubble and flame. Students were scattered, instructors were shouting, and healers were scrambling.
He swallowed. This was bad.
Really bad...
Garran let out a tired sigh. "Both of you. Follow me."
And with that, he started walking.
Darain didn't walk—he scrambled, grabbing the edge of Garran's cape like a terrified child at a market, eyes locked on Dahni as if she might explode again at any second.
Dahni didn't say a word. But her glare spoke volumes.
And Darain knew: if looks could kill, he'd be ash already.
Cael stood still as the chaos finally settled. He brushed some lingering smoke and debris from his shoulder, exhaling sharply. His eyes caught Darain's, who looked like he was silently begging for help.
Cael just shrugged and turned his back on him.
But before he could take another step, he jolted—startled by the sudden presence in front of him.
The Aetherion girl.
She stood there silently, her expression unreadable, eyes fixed on him.
Cael froze. What does she want? he thought.
She didn't speak. Just squinted slightly, tilting her head as if studying him—like he was a strange artifact she couldn't quite place.
Cael parted his lips to say something, but no words came out.
Then she scoffed, arms folding across her chest, and turned her back to him without a word.
She walked away.
And Cael stood there, completely confused.
Meanwhile, inside Garran's office, the Verault siblings sat before him.
Dahni sat with her arms and legs crossed, swaying slightly, her patience clearly thinning by the second. Darain, on the other hand, avoided all eye contact—staring at the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but at his sister.
Garran cleared his throat to begin."Before we even get to the damages…" he paused, looking at Dahni, "I want to ask—what was this all about? Why did you destroy half of the base?"
Dahni rolled her eyes, clearly unbothered by the question."One of your students—obviously this stupid person beside me," she gestured harshly toward Darain, "touched something that wasn't his. Didn't ask. Didn't borrow. He just stole it." Her voice rose with every word. "This fucker—I swear, I'll kill him."
She glared at her brother, her fist clenched like she was restraining herself from lunging across the table. Darain still didn't meet her gaze, not even a glance—as if eye contact would sign his death certificate.
"It was just a ring…" he muttered under his breath.
Dahni heard it.
She stood up so fast her chair screeched.
"What do you mean 'just a ring'?!" she exploded. "It was a gift from our grandmother, you idiot!" Her voice cracked, not just from anger, but something deeper. "You'd never understand how important that is to me—because you never got something like that, did you?!"
Darain's brows furrowed. That hit somewhere.
But he masked it with mockery.
"Can you calm your sentimental ass down?" he said, looking straight at her now, his face twisted in exaggerated irritation.
Garran closed his eyes.
And sighed.
A long, exhausted sigh.
So this… is the Verault family.
"I'll calm down when you give it back," Dahni snapped. "How hard is it to return something that's not yours?"
Darain didn't answer. He simply looked away, resting his chin on his hand.
Dahni scoffed, her voice laced with suspicion."Don't tell me… you lost it?"
His silence was answer enough.
She scoffed again, more sharply this time."You're so stupid! You better find it or I swear, I'll kill you!"
Still, Darain said nothing. Garran remained silent too, observing both.
Dahni's tone shifted—no longer just angry, but wounded.
"I never thought… not being the favorite would turn you into this. You've grown up so jealous of everything."
That made Darain look at her. His gaze was sharp.
"Oh really?" he said bitterly. "Then I'm sorry I turned out this way. Must be nice being you—'perfect' little Dahni, who has everything they wanted. Me? I'm just… nothing. Yeah, yeah—everyone's favorite. Got it. Fine. Whatever."
He stood up abruptly and walked out, slamming the door behind him. The echo lingered in the room like a wound left open.
Silence followed.
Then Garran spoke, calm but firm.
"Does the ring have a car in it?"
Dahni looked at him, startled.
"Yeah…" she admitted, slowly sitting back down. Her voice had softened—less fire, more hurt, more regret. She bit her lip, eyes fixed on the ground.
"I see," Garran said with a sigh. "Then the ring's not lost."
Dahni blinked, looking up."What?"
"The Marshal has it," he explained. "I'll contact him and make sure it's returned to you. I'm sorry this happened."
Dahni released a breath, visibly relieved. She nodded.
"As for the damages…" she said, rising from her seat. "I'm really sorry. My parents will take care of everything. I… I didn't mean for it to go that far."
She bowed her head, truly apologetic.
"I'll deliver the ring once I have it," Garran promised.
Dahni placed her right hand over her chest, clenched in a fist, and bowed again before leaving the room quietly.