The symbol for time itself…

James’ words gave her pause. Elder House must have something to do with time – she’d travelled through it after all. What she hadn’t known, and what James suspected, was everything about Elder House related to time.

Knowing the focus would indeed be helpful when casting any spells in the future. But it didn’t explain why the symbol was on the staff or now imprinted onto her wrist. For every smidgeon of information, there were always more questions.

It was something she would need to think about further.

That afternoon, all students and teachers braved the snow to gather in the Great Hall. Elvie had known there was a presentation scheduled but had been so distracted by her newfound knowledge she nearly forgot.

The Great Hall sat to the side and back from the Court itself. It had a suitably grand presence, and it was obvious whoever had designed the Court itself, had also designed the Grand Hall. With a vaulted ceiling, spires, and columns, it projected an image of wealth and grandeur. To Elvie, it gave her a feeling of a larger version of a grand old church.

Students gathered haphazardly throughout the Hall, although the central walkway remained empty. Elvie’s eyes were drawn to where Rilla stood alone, looking back towards the doorway.

‘Hi, Rilla, what’s happening?’ She tried to be calm, even if she desperately wanted to reach out and give her friend a hug.

‘It’s the parade of duellists.’ Rilla’s voice was quiet and lacked any spark.

Elvie’s eyes lit up, and she turned to see if anyone was about to make their grand entrance, but it was still too early for them to arrive.

She turned back to Rilla, thinking to say something – anything – to make amends, but she had disappeared into the other students. Elvie’s heart sank, even as the excitement of the contestants’ entrance buzzed around her. She searched around for a friend and spotted Flynn waving his arms. He stood with Anander, Urggukar, Claudia, and a girl Elvie had briefly met called Erina. Strangely, hovering around the edge, was Larcen.

After the Great Hall had filled with both students and teachers, Master Orde, who Elvie believed had previously run Hazel house, rose to speak on the central stage. He was an old man, with the hair on his head reduced to a few wisps on the sides. The elderly look was completed by a flowing beard holding only a few hints of his original dark hair interwoven throughout.

‘I bid you all welcome.’ His voice was soft and scratchy like a cat on a screen door, but it caused silence to descend across the Great Hall. ‘As you would know, this year, the Duels will be held on the tenth day of winter. They are a prestigious event, with no finer demonstration of a magician’s skill, strength, and cunning.’

‘In but a moment, this year’s duellists will take their place on stage. When they venture up, please provide them with a warm round of applause. Now, without further ado, please welcome our ten contestants!’

The double doors to the Great Hall slammed open, and whistles took root in the hall as a procession of magicians entered. They were a collection of different shapes and sizes –foreign, English born and wearing their Great House cloak, while others were…

‘Germans,’ Larcen scoffed. ‘And those Nordes… as if they’re going to do well.’ He laughed derisively.

Nobody replied to him, as everyone was scanning the magicians as they tried to work out who was competing. ‘Gaiden Maltsworth,’ Uggukar whispered with awe in his voice. ‘His shields have never been broken. Leff Freedrick! Master metalsmith… Heron Veerlake – rumour has it she can rip your soul free and put it back… What duels these are going to be!’

The magicians passed to varied reactions; some smiles or waves, some shivers of fear and trepidation. None of them held Elvie’s attention as it was focused on two contestants standing side by side, clearly brother and sister, and clearly twins. They wore matching cloaks of black swept over plain clothing, gold trim lining the edges and hoods pulled up to sit on the back of their heads. They weren’t offering protection from wind or cold, and Elvie assumed they wanted to add an air of mystery to their appearance.

‘The Whistlers,’ Flynn whispered from beside her like he didn’t want to be overheard. ‘Myra and Dalen. Two of the finest students produced by this college. Rumours say they’re Masters of their Great House, but nobody ever says what house exactly. The Masters like to play along too. Personally, I believe they’re of Alder and Hawthorn based on what I’ve read about them.’

‘Are they any good?’ Anander asked.

‘Fantastic,’ Flynn replied. A tremor of excitement entered his voice at the potential of seeing them in action. ‘All the Great Houses send champions, though, rotating through them. Some of the best aren’t here this year, Cassius Carlonn, Regina La’Teal or Grant Hroth, but the twins will give anyone here a run for their money. At least, I think so anyway. It’s always hard to say when you don’t know the foreign entries.’

Anander, who’d always been fond of gossip, especially about the Duels said: ‘I’ve heard talk the Sentinel will compete.’

Larcen scoffed yet again. That seemed to be his stock response. ‘The Sentinel? He’s there to guard the entry to the Island on the lighthouse.’ Everyone looked at him. ‘What? He’s not going to compete; he has his little light to watch.’

‘He could win.’ Elvie suspected the truth of her words. He projected innate violence, a self-confidence in his skill that wasn’t cocksure, but a simple fact.

‘He has killed!’ Urgukkar interjected. ‘That’s what I’ve heard anyway. A few years ago, two rogue magicians came to the Island thinking they had a right to learn. Got told to go away, but no, they started throwing their magic around, that’s how you got the big tear in the lighthouse… that tear though…’ He chuckled. ‘The Sentinel tore them in half, and not with magic – he used his hands! They threw magic at him, and he tore them in half.’

‘What a load of rot,’ Flynn replied.

‘He’s the Sentinel.’ Urgukkar defended himself. ‘That makes it a certainty that he is the best fighter.’

‘And he’s still just a man.’

As if on cue, two more magicians walked through, and immediately caught Elvie’s eye. The first was Shrinth, who looked threatening in her blood-red coat. But nothing compared to the aura the man beside her projected as he entered.

The Sentinel had come.

All talk about him ceased.

The contestants took their place on stage as Master Orde introduced each magician and asked for one final round of applause.

Everyone complied. Everyone was excited. Everyone except Elvie.

How long since she had seen the Sentinel in the lighthouse? How long since she’d watched over the darkness from his lofty perch, as they’d listened to the crash of waves upon rocks? Too long was the answer – the Sentinel’s arrival was just another reminder of how much Elvie had failed to make progress since she came to the Island.