Brilliant.

  Athena thought that the sight of her brother’s blade flying from his hand was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. There he stood—defenseless, unbalanced, exposed. An opportunity like this would not present itself again. And she would not waste it.

  She had been worried. For a moment, it had seemed her plan had backfired spectacularly. She had baited her brother into betraying the party, yes but she had expected Cassian to play a far greater role in the fight. Surely, he understood the threat Siegfried posed to both of them. Surely, he knew that once Siegfried decided someone was an enemy, his views would never change.

  Athena had believed that with the two of them fighting together, an opening would inevitably appear. For her. Or for her little cousin. Instead, Cassian had remained passive. Standing at the edge. Enhancing Siegfried.

  Pathetically.

  The spell had been so weak it might as well not have existed. She had wondered, briefly, whether the little twerp possessed a sadistic streak; whether he was content to watch her slowly, ponderously exhaust herself against their brother. But what he had done…

  It was brilliant.

  He had allowed Siegfried to grow accustomed to the enhancement. To factor that faint boost into every swing, every step, every calculation. He had let him internalize it. Depending on it. And then, at the precise instant before an all-out collision, he had ripped it away.

  No, not only that. He had shifted the balance. Given her that same whisper of power at the decisive moment. The difference had been negligible. And yet it had been everything. Athena had no other word for it.

  Brilliant.

  Perhaps a little too much so. Cassian was fresh. He had barely exerted himself. She, on the other hand, had been forced to draw upon her stronger spells just to keep pace with her brother. And now, to finish him, she would have to go further still.

  She had no other choice. She steadied her rapier and inhaled slowly. This would require her to verbalize the spell.

  “Absolute Zero,” she whispered.

  The air around her collapsed into silence. When the temperature plunged, she knew the spell had formed correctly. Frost bloomed outward from the steel, racing down the blade; then condensing, concentrating, until the cold withdrew and gathered at the very tip of her rapier.

  That was enough. This was advanced magic. A true invocation of the coldest cold this world could offer. If the blade pierced Siegfried’s skin, even shallowly, the frost would invade him from within. His blood would crystallize. His organs would fail before he could scream.

  Even here, surrounded by Arbiters, his life would be in real danger. Athena stepped forward. Thrusting her rapier at him, she could see it in his eyes, he was calculating, searching desperately for a spell, an answer, something that might save him.

  There was nothing. The rapier drove forward.

  Inches away.

  An inch away.

  The frozen point brushed his uniform.

  And then.

  He vanished.

  Light fractured around him, and Siegfried was torn from the trial grounds, teleported out the instant the faculty deemed that he could no longer safeguard his own life. The cold dispersed, the mist settled.

  Athena exhaled.

  She had won!

  The hard part was over. Now she only needed to defeat her little cousin.

  She would have to be ruthless. Her Mana was already half-drained. Another prolonged exchange would not favor her. It had to be decisive. Strangely, she felt bad for the boy.

  She would have to crush him. And yet, what she truly wanted was to congratulate him. Perhaps even hug him. He had facilitated her victory. Without him, she would not have found that opening. He deserved a reward. But first, the hierarchy needed to be established.

  Once Cassian accepted his place beneath her, then she would praise him. She would protect him. Perhaps even teach him. In time, the two of them could become something brilliant together.

  But not as equals. Never as equals.

  She adjusted her grip on her rapier and considered which spell would begin her offense. Something elegant. Something overwhelming, but not lethal. Just enough to make the lesson clear.

  She started to inhale… And felt it.

  A tug in her stomach. Her balance shifted. The thread of enhancement was gone. The spell had been lifted. She was exactly as Siegfried had been a moment ago.

  Unbalanced.

  Exposed.

  Defenseless.

  Her eyes widened. And then she heard it.

  “Wing Charge.”

  Cassian was already moving. He had not wasted a single breath. He had used Siegfried’s body as cover, and the instant his brother vanished, he had launched himself forward. No hesitation. No warning. Just speed. He was coming straight at her.

  But something was wrong. The burst of speed that had carried him was already fading. His charge was slowing; considerably. Another weak spell.

  Athena almost laughed.

  What was this? Gallantry? Was he holding back? Not wanting to hurt her?

  Oh, he really did need a teacher. Athena would be more than happy to provide that lesson. The price of naivety on the battlefield was always paid in blood.

  Zero friction. Infinite speed. She thought.

  Ice coated the soles of her boots. The floor beneath her froze instantly white as she began to slide backward, carried away from his path.

  He would not even touch her; it had all been in vai- She saw it.

  The satchel. Siegfried’s satchel. It was falling. How could she not have seen it before? It was right there, suspended between them, tumbling downward.

  It held the slab. If she retreated now, if she let her momentum carry her away, Cassian would have it.

  And then? What if he ran? What if he dove through the blue arch?

  What if he attempted the sorcerer’s challenge alone? What if he succeeded? What if he obtained three slabs? She would lose.

  No.

  That could not be allowed. He could not touch that satchel. Not even for a heartbeat.

  She forced her body forward against the spell dragging her back. Her boots screamed against the frozen surface as she fought her own magic. She pushed with everything in her upper body, stretching, straining, reaching.

  Cassian was closing in, even with his diminishing speed. He would make contact. It would not be a hard blow, she hoped. The satchel was right there.

  Almost-

  Her fingers brushed the strap. She seized it, she smiled. Victory.

  She began to let the ice pull her away; he would barely grace her, then she saw something. The point of his blade. Aiming directly between her brows. Something clung to its tip. A small crystal. A clear crystal. A teleporta-

  Athena felt as if she were being forced through a narrow door. The pressure compressed her from every side; the unmistakable sensation. Teleportation. But those crystals had a limited range. So where? Where was he sending her? Her vision snapped back into place.

  She was still in the same chamber. Just… far from him now. Cassian stood across the room, sword lowered, watching. What had been the point? This was what she had wanted. Distance and space The ability to dictate the flow again.

  For half a second, she let her self savor triumph. Then she heard it. The roar. The gate behind her. Her eyes widened as she looked over her shoulder.

  Her back was pressed almost directly against the glowing archway. And she was still moving. The momentum from her own zero-friction spell was carrying her backward. The arch pulsed. The teleportation array was active. He hadn’t tried to defeat her. He had done this to remove her.

  Her mind raced. Could she stop?

  No.

  Her velocity was too great. If she attempted to negate it with magic, if she abruptly altered her momentum, the recoil would rip through her body. Whiplash. Internal damage. Loss of control.

  Ice wall?

  She could form one behind her. She would crash. It would hurt. But it would be survivable. But;

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Too late.

  She was already level with the gate. Anything conjured behind her would be swallowed by the arch itself.

  He had measured the distance.

  He had accounted for her retreat.

  He had predicted her need to secure the satchel.

  He had used her own momentum as a weapon.

  She was trapped. A curse tore from her throat; and the world snapped.

  She was launched through the gate.

  The world returned violently.

  Athena struck the ground hard, grass tearing beneath her as her body skidded across the valley floor. The momentum she had built for escape now worked against her, dragging her backward along the dirt road before she finally rolled and came to a stop.

  For a heartbeat she lay there. Then she was on her feet.

  Fast.

  Controlled.

  Composed.

  The valley stretched endlessly in every direction. Rolling mounds of soft green grass. A single dirt road cutting straight through the landscape as if drawn by a ruler. Above, an impossibly blue sky. The air was mild. Pleasant. A gentle breeze moved the grass in slow waves.

  It was beautiful.

  She wanted to stomp her foot. She wanted to scream. She wanted to curse that little twerp until the heavens cracked. But she was being watched. She smoothed her hair instead. Her expression settled into calm.

  The archway behind her stood silent. The glow that had swallowed her was gone. No residual magic hummed around it. One way, of course. If she wanted to return, she would have to complete the trial. Her gaze sharpened.

  Green.

  The arch had been green. A slow smile curved across her lips. The Arbiter’s Trial. He had sent her exactly where she needed to be. She laughed softly.

  “Cousin,” she murmured, voice carried by the wind. “You are brilliant.”

  She lifted the satchel in her hand, letting it dangle between her fingers. The red slab; safe. She opened it slightly, just enough for the red colored glow to flash in the light.

  “And yet…” Her smile widened. “You made one very big mistake.”

  Cassian had removed her from the field. Clever. He had used positioning instead of force. Very clever. But he had not accounted for this.

  She now stood at the entrance of the green challenge; the one discipline she had not yet claimed. The world favored the strong. It always had.

  Henry had understood that. Leonard had proven it. Alicia had embodied it.

  The strong rule. And even his clever maneuvering would bend toward her victory. He had handed her the opportunity. The lesson she intended for him would have to wait. But it would come.

  He had dared to defy her. To disrupt the order. To unsettle the hierarchy. They were not equals. Even if she won, he might think she had not defeated him in combat. Very well. She would defeat him too, properly.

  She would show him how utterly beneath her he truly was. Then, and only then, could their relationship begin in earnest.

  She walked the dirt road without hesitation, boots pressing shallow marks into the soft earth. The valley remained serene, the breeze steady, the sky unmarred.

  Then the river appeared. It cut across the road in a perfect line, wide and fast, its current glittering under the sun. Athena stopped. The river vanished. She took another step forward. It returned. An illusion.

  No. Not merely an illusion. A conditional manifestation. Triggered by proximity. The moment she committed to crossing, the obstacle manifested. If she retreated, it withdrew. She tested the edges. Stepping sideways. Angling her body. The river stretched infinitely in both directions, perfectly aligned with her path. It would not be bypassed.

  Straight ahead stood a bridge. Simple wood. Old-fashioned. Drawn up.

  Besides it, a crude wheel mechanism.

  Tied to the wheel was a small dog.

  The creature strained against its rope, paws scraping the dirt as it attempted to turn the wheel. It lacked strength. It barked once, frustrated.

  Athena approached. She shifted direction, trying to reach the riverbank directly. Thinking that freezing the river would be faster than accessing the bridge.

  An invisible wall stood in her way.

  She moved toward the wheel.

  Same result.

  She pressed her palm lightly against the unseen barrier. Solid. Impeccable. Carefully constructed. The kind of layered defense that would not respond kindly to brute force. If she attempted to shatter it with magic, it would likely trigger disqualification.

  What they wanted of her was obvious. She exhaled softly. Without raising her voice, without theatricality, she formed the invocation.

  A large, shimmering thread extended from her hand and attached itself to the dog. The connection pulsed once, twice.

  The animal straightened.

  It rose as if guided by unseen command and began walking in a steady circle. The wheel turned smoothly now. The bridge creaked as it descended. Wood struck earth with a dull thud. The path opened. Athena let the thread dissolve. She scoffed.

  “I suppose they made these challenges with Cassian in mind.”

  That's why they wanted to know our roles beforehand so they could properly prepare challenges according to our level of experience.

  Not only had her dear cousin sent her directly to the slab she required, but he had sent her into the gentlest of trials. How considerate. Her lips curved faintly.

  “How cruel the world is,” she murmured to the empty valley. “No rest for those it deems weak.” And she crossed the bridge without looking back.

  Yes. The world was cruel to those who were weak.

  Her father was proof of that. Not that he was weak in the common sense. No one would ever dare call Ragnar Viamnova weak. His magic was immense, refined, feared, it was art! But compared to his brother… he was weak. That was why they were the secondary line.

  It was not simply because Ragnar had been born after his brother. Birth order did not decide the main line of the Viamnovas. There had been second sons, third daughters, even fourth-born children who had risen to lead the family.

  What mattered was worth. What mattered was strength. What mattered was whether you were deemed worthy to stand at the head of the Viamnovas, and her father had failed.

  It was not his fault. His competition had been unfair from the beginning. How could any man compete with the one known as Magic’s Beloved? Father could not. And because he could not, Athena knew no one else could.

  Until her.

  She had always known it. She was born to surpass her uncle. To give her father what had been denied him. To restore his rightful place in the main line. He had placed all his hopes on Siegfried to accomplish this. That much was obvious.

  How hypocritical. A man who resented being overlooked for being born second… only to overlook his own daughter for the same reason.

  Today would change that. Today he would finally see. It was not that Siegfried was weak. He was not. But the way he used magic… it was crude. Instinctive. Inelegant.

  When he had tried to teach her, she had told him she already knew everything he was saying. That had not been entirely true. The truth was worse. She could not comprehend what he meant.

  Her books did not support his explanations. Nothing he described was written in any text she had studied. Magic, to him, was a living thing felt in the marrow. To her, it was structure, law, artistry.

  He understood magic as instinct. She understood magic as art. And when instinct plateaued, art would surpass it. Her potential was limitless. His was not. She had proven it today.

  No longer would she be excluded from private training. No longer would she be a tool to sharpen her brother’s edge. Now it would be Siegfried who trained to sharpen hers.

  The hierarchy, established by age and laziness, would change. The first thing she would request was exclusive access to Rubyhold’s training hall. Let Siegfried practice in the park. Let him learn what it felt like to stand beneath someone else.

  Not for long. Once the proper order was restored, they could be close again. She did love him. And she knew he loved her.

  But love, when offered from below, was weakness. If she had allowed herself to cling to him while inferior, she would have remained there forever. She would have grown bitter. Sour. Like Father.

  No.

  Strength first.

  Affection later.

  She would elevate her father to head of the family, for a time. Let him taste what he had been denied. Let him enjoy it. Then, when the moment came, she would gently remind him who the strongest truly was.

  She would take her rightful place. She would grant Siegfried Rubyhold as a seat of honor. She might even grant Cassian Sapphirehold. If he bowed to her.

  Everything would fall into place. It always did. For the strong.

  The next obstacle revealed itself as she took a step. The world ahead of her vanished.

  Where the valley had been, there was now nothing; no grass, no road, no sky. Just a vast, white void stretching endlessly in all directions. She walked to the edge and looked down. There was no invisible wall, no resistance. Simply emptiness. No way forward.

  She considered her options. She could shape a bridge of ice easily enough, elegant and unbreakable. But she suspected that was not what was being asked of her. Even if she did, the distance felt infinite. A pointless gesture.

  Flight crossed her mind, briefly. It would have been a beautiful solution—refined, efficient; but flight magic was either prohibitively advanced or relied on wind affinity. Neither suited her.

  She turned away from the void and surveyed what remained. Most of the grass near the edge had withered into nothingness, except for a small patch of green. At its center stood a low bush.

  She approached it. Beneath its branches lay a rabbit. Its body was broken, sides rising weakly with shallow breaths, blood matting its fur. It trembled, hovering on the edge between life and death.

  Athena did not hesitate. She knelt, touched the creature gently with the tip of her rapier, and focused.

  Heal.

  Mana flowed. The wounds sealed. The rabbit’s breathing steadied. A moment later, it sprang to its feet and hopped away, lively and whole.

  As it reached the edge of the void, the world responded. Grass bloomed beneath its paws. Earth unfolded outward, spreading rapidly until the valley returned in full. The road ahead reformed, stretching once more into the distance beneath a clear blue sky.

  Athena straightened.

  Once again, the world had proven her right.

  The strong protect the weak.

  The weak exist beneath the strong.

  And when the weak are guided properly, the world moves forward.

  Satisfied, she resumed her walk. Yes… Cassian would need to be reminded of this. Through clever tricks, he had dared to defy the natural order. That could not go unanswered. Unchallenged strength became chaos. Hierarchy existed for a reason.

  Her cousin had fallen in with the wrong company.

  Those two commoners, especially the boy, were probably responsible. Cassian probably liked them because among them, he was the strongest. But he treated them as equals.

  That was his mistake.

  She would correct it.

  The girl had talent, she would grant her that. Raw, unfocused, but present. She could be shaped. Used. But the boy? Loud. Impudent. Incapable of understanding his place. The kind of person who mistook familiarity for equality.

  Those two commoners would become part of the lesson she would teach him. And when it was over, he would understand the world as it truly was. As she did.

  The next obstacle appeared not far ahead. And by the looks of it, it was the last. At the center of the road, upon a simple stone pedestal, rested the green slab. It glowed softly, steady and inviting. The mark of her victory.

  Between her and the pedestal stretched a strip of dirt road. Arrows shot from left to right in precise intervals, hissing through the air, sharp enough to pierce steel.

  Athena chuckled. They likely expected her to use a shield charm. A proper Arbiter solution. But that would not be necessary. She stepped forward.

  An arrow shrieked toward her throat. Before it could strike, an ice mirror formed between them. The arrow shattered against it, and the mirror dissolved into a puddle of water that splashed against the dirt.

  Athena frowned.

  That was wrong. Her mirrors were not supposed to melt like that. They were meant to vanish cleanly when their purpose was fulfilled. Ice should obey. Water should remain structured. Controlled. Not splash uselessly into the ground.

  Wasted Mana. An imperfect spell. No one else would notice. But she did. And that was enough. Viamnovas aimed for perfection. Anything less was disgraceful. She would refine it later. For now, she advanced.

  Another arrow. Mirror. Splash.

  Another. Mirror. Splash.

  One by one, the arrows were intercepted. The task was trivial. She moved forward at a measured pace, unhurried, almost leisurely.

  The earlier trials had barely slowed her. And she had no reason to rush. Cassian could not possibly clear two challenges, scaled for her and Siegfried’s level, before she finished this final stretch. The world favored the strong. She reached the pedestal. The time had come. She lifted the green slab from its resting place.

  Immediately, a gate shimmered into existence before her, humming softly. A return portal. Victory. She smiled faintly. But she did not step through.

  Instead, she reached for the red satchel hanging at her side and withdrew the red slab. She pressed it against the green one.

  Now for the blue. Confidently, she opened the blue satchel. Her fingers closed around something soft. Not stone. Not cold. Not a slab. She pulled it out. A doll. A blank, featureless doll. A mimic.

  For a heartbeat, the world stood still. Then;

  She roared.

  The sound tore through the peaceful valley, violent and raw. Rage unlike anything she had shown before. He had replaced it. Cassian had replaced the blue slab. At some point, without her noticing.

  Not during the fight; no. That would have been impossible. She gave him her satchel at the beginning of this. She had given it to him to carry. And in that room, in that waiting room, when Siegfried had looked at him, he was terrified. His hands shut behind his back. She thought he was just scared of Siegfried, but no, he was afraid he had been discovered.

  Which meant; Her jaw tightened. He had planned this. From the beginning.