“Wait, is he against the girl who beat Dunstan?” Alistair asked as the two combatants took to the sands.

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” Liliana said, fingers digging in tight to her arms.

“Did we ever figure out how she won?” Alistair leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“No. There were too many affinities she could’ve used.” Emyr shook his head, looking distinctly perturbed by this fact. It was unsettling that even Emyr didn’t know what affinity had been used. He was better than even Lilliana at analyzing fighting styles.

The fight started, and Liliana could feel her heart in her throat. Liliac Murrish of class A once more summoned great wings made of darkness to take her to the skies, seeming content to stick to her distracting fighting style. Could it even be considered a fighting style if she raised neither hand nor weapon against someone?

Koth’talan stood underneath her as the girl swooped and dove, performing feats of airborne acrobatics like a performer, drawing all eyes to her and away from the dæmon standing with his sword resting against his shoulder.

Koth’talan made no indication of moving or even attacking as he kept his eyes on Murrish. Liliana, having learned from the last fight Murrish was in, kept her own eyes on Koth’talan. This time, she got to see the first hints of an invisible attack as Koth’talan’s shield began to infinitesimally turn yellow. The change was so subtle, so slow that if she hadn’t been watching for exactly that, she wouldn’t have even noticed.

It was something like poison, with its subtle traits, its slow damage. But different. Poison typically affected people in time with their heartbeat, as it pushed deadly blood through veins. This was somehow different, slower, but not tied to any pattern or timing Liliana could detect.

Koth’talan noticed the same thing, lifting his free hand to look at the shield covering it, turning it this way and that curiously. Above him, Murrish continued her performance, completely ignoring Koth’talan as if he wasn’t there. The lack of any attacks emboldened the girl, and she took more risks in her flight, dipping so low her fingers trailed the sands before she swooped back up, spinning and twisting to an unheard melody.

Koth’talan kept watching her without moving, even as his shield started to turn a more noticeable yellow. Still he stood there, as still as a statue as Murrish grew ever more comfortable. Assured of her victory and likely assuming Koth’talan had all but given up. Her stunts were more reckless, drawing her so close to Koth’talan he could reach out and grab her if he wished on one occasion. Yet he still kept his stance as his shield started to turn orange.

“The bastard finally learned his place. He’s giving up!” Zir’elon crowed from the back, derisive laughter pouring from him. No one gave him the satisfaction of even reacting, too occupied with the match.

When Koth’talan’s shield was firmly orange, and even his friends feared he had truly given up hope of victory, he finally made his move. Murrish had begun making almost predictable, daring moves that brought her close to the ground.

Murrish dipped low to the ground, spinning like a top when a great spike of earth punched out of the ground, hitting her square in the chest and sending the girl tumbling, body bouncing against the ground.

Koth’talan moved, springing into action as runes blazed flame bright on his skin, his sword a beacon of unholy hellfire as pillars of earth sprung up under Koth’talan, shooting him through the air. He crossed the distance in seconds, slamming his blade into Murrish, who was struggling to regain her feet after being so savagely thrown from the air.

Black wings covered Murrish as they blocked the hit from connecting with her just in the nick of time, but Koth’talan was ruthless, keeping her pinned even as she got her feet back under her. She could not easily take to the sky once more, with Koth’talan hacking into her wings, the only things keeping her safe. Murrish fought back, like a cornered animal she struck with wings, feet and hands. She was obviously comfortable with close quarter combat, despite her apparent aversion to even getting into a fight.

Koth’talan and Murrish traveled along the sands, the dæmon never giving Murrish the space she’d need to take off, grabbing her by the foot the one time she tried to and slamming her brutally back into the ground as punishment.

Yet despite Koth’talan’s overwhelming offensive, whatever Murrish had done was still affecting him, his shield taking on a red-orange tone that was dangerously close to red, even as Murrish’s shield slowly turned orange. Koth’talan was on a time limit. He had to do enough damage to Murrish to knock her out before whatever she did finished him off.

Murrish’s wings were tattered things at this point, notches and chunks taken out of them from the many hits they’d sustained. With a swing of his sword, Koth’talan severed one of her wings, the limb vanishing in a wisp of shadows and throwing her off balance. Spinning on his heel, Koth’talan lashed out with a powerful kick, sending an already off balance Murrish falling back.

And right into a waiting pool of lava Murrish had not seen forming, nor had she noticed Koth’talan slowly herding her towards it.

The girl fell, bubbling lava covering her flailing limbs like quicksand as her shield quickly faded to red.

Koth’talan was declared the victor, and Murrish was carefully lifted from the cooling lava. Murrish dusted off her clothes as her single remaining wing disappeared. She bowed towards Koth’talan then towards the audience with a flourish before she took her leave. Koth’talan leaving with far less fanfare.

Zir’elon, for once, had little to say in his corner in the back.

Koth’talan returned to a far more animated room, cheers and congratulations filling the air as he took his seat, a faint smile on his lips. No one made the mistake of trying to hug the prickly dæmon, but their words did more than enough. Relief was palpable in the air. They hadn’t lost another friend in this tournament. Not yet.

Emyr stood, and the relief turned back to subtle tension as he stretched out his arms, readying himself for his next fight. Against Diana.

“Don’t go too hard on her, okay?” Liliana asked her friend as she stood and hugged him tight.

“Lili, you’ve forgiven her because you’re too much of a bleeding heart to hold a grudge against anyone who will apologize to you. I, however, am not half so gracious.” Emyr told her, eyes dancing with a vindictive glee. Liliana sighed as she pulled back, mentally apologizing to Diana for whatever hell Emyr was going to bring to bear on the poor girl.

Diana was a good mage, and a good fighter. As evidenced by how far she’d gotten. But she still lacked the killer instinct one needed to be a truly great fighter or mage. And killer instinct was something Emyr had never wanted for. He was as much a product of their twisted world as any of them, learning from a young age if you hesitated to finish your opponent, they would rarely afford you the same kindness.

“Show them why the north is still the most powerful domain,” Alistair told his friend, gripping Emyr’s shoulder tight, something unreadable passing in their eyes.

“The Rosengardes guard the waters of the north,” Liliana whispered quietly.

“And the Bealstals are their unseen swords in the shadows,” Emyr finished for her.

An old pair of family mottos, hardly used but speaking of how long their families had been allied. A relationship that spanned the centuries, far older than any of them, or even their parents and grandparents. Originating from the very founding of their houses. A history so old it verged on myth, a story of Rosen and Beal.

Emyr walked out of the room, leaving them behind to watch the illusion. Emyr and Diana walked out, taking the center of the arena. Diana tried to smile at Emyr, but the boy kept his face expressionless in a way most found unsettling. Diana’s smile wilted like a flower dying under acid rain as the match was called to a start.

Emyr vanished into the shadows, as he had for both his previous fights. Diana didn’t look the least bit surprised as she started summoning earthen walls around her, boxing herself in. She’d learned her lesson about trying to get the high ground when it could be so easily turned against her. As her rough fortifications were finished, a squat building of thick dirt and stone walls with small windows like arrow slits around it to give her visibility, she sent out her first attacks.

Diana held no obvious favoritism for a given affinity. Bolts of light, spears of water, balls of fire, blades of wind, snapping serpents formed of darkness. She sent them all out to sink into every shadow in sight. Whereas his previous opponents hadn’t had the means, or the Mana, to strike every shadow in the arena at the same time, Diana held no such compunction.

She threw everything she had at him, and it was what forced Emyr to reveal himself, tumbling out of a shadow long enough to dodge a bolt of light thicker around than his chest before he vanished again.

Diana, emboldened by Emyr’s appearance, redoubled her efforts. The arena was turned once more into a war zone as Diana utilized every base affinity that would give her a usable attack to send volley after volley into the shadows, tearing deep into the sands without a care.

Liliana didn’t even want to think of how much Mana Diana was draining to keep up her ceaseless attacks. Again and again Emyr was forced to reveal himself to narrowly escape attacks, hopping in and out of the shadows, yet sending nothing in return.

Either he was conserving his Mana, trying to channel a spell, or trying to exhaust Diana. Any could be viable options, though they didn’t know currently how much Mana Diana had to use, or how long it would take for her to run dry. Diana had a Life affinity as well, and as long as she hadn’t progressed too far down a healing path, she wouldn’t have to deal with the healer’s curse.

She may very well be able to buff herself and keep up her attacks for longer than Emyr could dodge. Liliana knew his Stamina wasn’t high.

As the arena suffered more wanton destruction, the shadows readily multiplied, giving Diana ever more targets to hit and Emyr more places to hide. Liliana wouldn’t have noticed a single, razor thin shadow inching across the sands if it hadn’t been for Alistair, sitting straight up with a small gasp, and she followed his eyes.

The small, barely there shadow stretched, slinking between two thin windows on Diana’s hastily built fortress and climbing to the top. Diana had a single, small hole in the top, presumably to keep an eye out for any overhead attacks, but most of the roof was whole.

After all, the only one in their group likely to take to the sky was Liliana, and Emyr had shown no flight skills.

The shadow pooled on the roof until it was large enough for Emyr to climb out of, panting lightly as he softly sat down. In the one place Diana would not see him coming. Finally, in perhaps the only place in the arena that could currently be considered safe, Emyr crossed his legs and closed his eyes. Fire and darkness twisted around his body as he began to channel some spell.

Diana beneath him was continuing her reckless assault, growing more savage the longer she went without seeing Emyr appear. Or perhaps, more fearful. They all knew Emyr could bring powerful spells down on the heads of the unwary, as long as he was given time to channel the horrifically long cast times.

“What is he channeling?” Liliana turned her head slightly to see her brother out of her peripherals, keeping most of her attention on the fight. Emyr had been sitting on the roof for over seven minutes now, and Liliana was getting antsy.

“Look at the sun,” Alistair nodded, and Liliana’s eyes flicked up to the descending sun above.

Hours had passed since the start of the tournament, and the sun no longer rested dead above the coliseum. Liliana squinted her eyes, trying to see what her brother meant when she finally detected it.

The sun was slightly misshapen, something hard to notice, almost impossible if you were in the arena for looking at the sun would quickly blind you. It was something every fighter knew better than to do. And something Emyr was capitalizing on.

“Starfall.” Alistair said simply as Liliana detected what she thought were eight growing spheres of light. Appropriate to the name, they looked like stars, visible in the daylight if one was willing to strain their eyes to look at them.

Emyr opened his eyes and let out a breath as he melted into his own shadow, a thin trail letting him escape his now deadly position. If he had started casting as soon as he got on the roof, this had to be one of his longest cast times, sitting at over fifteen minutes just to get the spell set. If he’d somehow been casting it the entire time, then it had an abominably long cast time, which could only mean the damage was cataclysmic in proportion.

Diana had never stopped her barrage of attacks and once more Emyr was seen dodging out of shadows, though Liliana wondered if it was out of need, or to keep Diana’s attention firmly on him as the stars grew in the sky, overtaking the light of the sun.

It mattered little, in the end, why Emyr let himself be seen. Not a minute after he left the roof of Diana’s squat fortifications, the stars fell from the sky. Blindingly bright, as if Emyr had truly summoned the stars from the sky to come to his aid. Covered in fire so hot they burned pure white. Diana’s fortifications stood no chance as they were mercilessly obliterated, flaming clods of dirt and chunks of melted stone flying through the air as all eight stars pulverized them.

Liliana couldn’t even see Diana in the middle of the chaos. The stars blazed too bright, the gouts of earth that flew in their wake too thick to see through and to the girl inevitably in the middle of it. The light was hard enough to look at through squinted eyes, burning Liliana’s retinas.

When the spell finally concluded, Liliana could see charred black earth and burning debris in its wake, a great crater where once had sat a small earthen building. In the center, over two meters at the deepest, was Diana’s prone form, shield red.

Now Liliana could understand the long cast time on the spell. She rarely got to see Emyr’s most powerful spells. Most of them were more suited to open battlefields than to enclosed dungeons or classrooms. And sometimes she could forget how powerful Emyr had become, and why the Celestial affinity was known as unparalleled at large, AOE attacks. And Emyr had only just scratched the surface of what the affinity could do, not even getting into the Star and Constellation Aspects that would come to him if he kept mastering the affinity and leveling up.

There was a reason, a damned good one, why Celestial mages were also known as war mages. Damage like that was more appropriately seen against an army, rather than a single opponent. It was meant to decimate enemy ranks.

Emyr was the victor. He stepped from the shadows and walked to the edge of the crater where Diana laid, saying something none of them could hear. If Diana said anything back, none of them would know. Emyr turned away and walked off the sands, leaving Diana to be removed by a professor.

“You don’t know the meaning of restraint, do you?” Liliana asked Emyr the second he walked into the room. Emyr snorted at her, shrugging his shoulders as he took his seat, leaning into Alistair with a bone tired sigh.

“Who needs restraint? I’m trying to make people fear me,” Emyr retorted, huffing quietly when Alistair stood up and he lost his headrest. Alistair’s fight was up next.

“I think the term you’re looking for is overkill, and it’s essentially Emyr’s middle name.” Alistair told Liliana, ruffling an affectionate hand through Emyr’s hair, the other leaning into the touch like a cat.

“Better overkill than underkill.” Emyr defended himself, scooting closer to Liliana to turn her into his replacement headrest when Alistair removed his hand. He smelled of sweat, sun baked sand and almost overwhelmingly of sulfur, something dark and sweet on the edges. Liliana draped a careless arm over his shoulders, rubbing circles against his arm as Emyr sighed contentedly at the contact.

“Have a good fight, you two,” Liliana said with a smile, though her eyes were sad when Basil stood up too. The next fight was Alistair, against Basil. At least whoever was knocked out would be defeated by a friend. Liliana would admit, only to herself, that she hoped her brother won.

“I’ll give it my all, no offense, Basil. But I won’t be holding back.” Alistair told his friend, and Basil gave him a careless smile.

“I will not go easy on you either. We are friends within these walls, but on the sands, we shall be adversaries. I shall treat you as such.” Basil told Alistair, words oddly formal yet fitting for the circumstances. Alistair nodded, face solemn as they shook hands before leaving the room together.

“And then there were four,” Liliana murmured as she leaned her head on Emyr’s. Emyr reached up and grabbed her hand in a warm, tight grasp, squeezing gently. The room watched silently as Basil and Alistair walked onto the sands.

“So what did you say to Diana?” Liliana asked Emyr, eager for a distraction as they waited for the fight to start.

“That’s a secret.” Emyr turned his head enough for her to see him holding a finger to his lips, a devious glint in his eyes.

“Ah, you threatened her. Of course.” Liliana rolled her eyes. Emyr snorted, but neither confirmed nor denied her comment, which was as good as an admission from him. His hand squeezed hers almost painfully tight as the fight was called to start.

Only one of their friends could win, and both of them were hoping Alistair would walk back through those doors.