Page 62 of House Ignis

I almost fell off the bench. He leaned back, but his thighs were still right there, bracketing me, flexing as he moved. He was perfectly aware of how little space he was leaving me.

Beside me, Sera leaned back, utterly unbothered. "I did warn you."

I stared straight ahead, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"Class!"

Professor Aldara's voice cracked across the arena like a whip, yanking my thoughts straight out of the gutter. I blinked and sat up straighter. All fifty of us were already seated in a wide arc around the dueling ring, boundlings gathered close at our sides—every pair watching, waiting, and pulsing with the restless energy of the rising moon.

Aldara stepped into the center of the arena. From within his sleeve, he drew his wand.

It was a professor's wand—Silverwood veined with Academy crystal—its core tethered directly to the Monolith network deep beneath the grounds. He flicked his wrist once, and the runes carved into the floor ignited.

Light surged upward in a rising arc, forming a translucent dome that sealed over the ring with a resonant, metallic hum. The air shifted instantly—dense, contained, and dangerously charged.

We were outside it. Spectators. Safe.

"No one enters once the ward is raised," Aldara said evenly. "And no one interferes." The shield shimmered, layered with sigils that pulsed in a quiet, heartbeat rhythm.

"This barrier exists to contain the magic inside this ring. And to protect you from it."

Silence settled heavily across the stands.

"Fae are powerful," he continued. "But you are not immortal." The words landed like a physical strike.

"A shallow cut will clot. A bruise will fade. But deep wounds? Internal rupture?" His eyes hardened as he scanned our faces.

"You will not regenerate through arrogance. If you are broken inside this ward, you will be carried to the infirmary like anyone else."

The shield flared in response to the wand in his hand. "This is not Riftball," he said.

"This is evaluation. And evaluation begins with understanding your Core."

With another flick of his wrist, light bloomed in the air above the arena floor. A translucent figure formed—golden channels branching through a spectral body. At its center glowed a steady, brilliant sphere of light.

"This," Aldara said, "is your Core. It is the regulator between you and the Monoliths. It determines how much magic you may draw without tearing yourself apart."

The projection showed energy flowing smoothly through the figure's arms.

"You must understand," he added, his voice dropping into a solemn tone, "the Containment Ring is more than just a wall. Inside these wards, your magic is a storm in a bottle. Every surge you fail to control will bounce back and settle in your own marrow."

The sphere in the projection brightened. "If your Core is stable, your power is stable." The channels flared a violent red. "If you overdraw, it overheats. If you force it—"

A crack splintered across the glowing sphere.

"—it fractures." The light inside the projection flickered and died. "And when your Core destabilizes, your body does not repair until the Core is stabilized. This is the Law of the Core."

He lowered the wand, and the projection dissolved.

"Power is borrowed." A beat. "Not owned. And it always collects its debt."

He turned toward the shielded ring. "First up—Darcy Morvain and Rhea Marcellis."

We erupted into cheers, hands slapping Darcy's back as she rose.

She shot us a sly, confident grin and sauntered toward the center of the ring, Void tucked snugly beneath her collar like a shadow come to life.

I was watching Darcy roll out her shoulders when something slithered into the arena.