Page 304 of House Ignis

“Our Trials don't start until we step onto that floor.”

We marched toward the designated quarantine zone where the first-years were gathered, the sound of our boots hitting the stone like a rhythmic war drum.

Beyond the massive iron doors, the crowd was already roaring—a sea of voices demanding blood and brilliance.

The Aegos Crucible was first: a nightmare of shifting plates, acid serpents, and a thousand ways to fail.

Nearby, Zaria and Maddy were stretching, their voices low murmurs against the rising noise.

Across the way, Darcy, Sera, Mavrik, and Rhea lounged on a stone bench, chatting with a casualness that felt insane given that this was about to be the most dangerous day of our lives.

The sound of the crowd was a living thing now, a surge of energy so loud it rattled the ground beneath our boots.

The arena was full to its brim, spectators flooding in from across the continent to witness the first Aegos Trials in centuries where every year group was eligible to compete.

This was my father’s spectacle—his way of showing every kingdom that Zymarra still fought dirty.

Asher’s hand found mine again, his grip grounding me against the overwhelming roar of the spectators.

I squeezed back, my eyes hardening as the mechanical hiss of the Arena began to echo through the chamber.

The "Princess of Zymarra" was a title for the people in the stands; in here. I was just a wielder with a flickering flame and the deadliest shadow wielder in the Academy at my side.

"Let's give them their show," I whispered.

The heavy iron grates groaned, beginning their slow ascent, and the blinding light of the Arena floor started to spill into the dark of the tunnel. It was time.

The barrier hummed, a low-frequency vibration that set my teeth on edge and made the dying embers of my magic flicker in warning.

As we stepped out from the tunnel's shadow, the sheer scale of the spectacle hit me. It wasn't just a stadium; it was a cathedral of violence, built to honor the elements and the blood we were about to spill.

The red and gold of Zymarra was a physical heat against my skin, the crowd’s chants of “Pyreson! Pyreson!” or simply “Ignis!” drowning out the mechanical groans of the Arena floor.

I felt my father’s gaze somewhere in that sea of scarlet—cold, expectant, and utterly ruthless.

Beside me, Asher was a pillar of dark composure.

He didn't look toward the Umbra stands, though their heavy, violet-tinged silence seemed to reach for him specifically.

He kept his eyes fixed on the shifting plates ahead.

"Stay close to the panthers," he murmured, his voice cutting through the cacophony of the five kingdoms. "The crowd wants a show, but the Arena wants a sacrifice."

Aether and Zya paced at our heels, their hackles raised, golden and silver eyes scanning the perimeter.

They could sense the serpents before we could see them.

The horn gave one final, bone-shaking blast. A collective gasp tore from all of us—first, second, and third-years alike—as the reality of the carnage hit home.

The first row of metal plates in front of us hissed and began to rotate, revealing a drop into a glowing green abyss. The Gauntlet had officially woken up.

"Now," Asher commanded through the bond, the mental order striking me with the force of a physical push.

I didn't hesitate.

I let the heat of my kingdom’s roar fuel the spark in my palms. I wasn't just a princess anymore; I was a contender in a game designed to break me.

As one, the entire student body surged forward.