The summer break had been a quiet blur of reading, practicing spells in the mansion's secluded gardens, and the constant hum of my own internal battle. When we returned for our second year, the air at Phantasia felt thicker with a familiar tension. More students meant more eyes, and even if the blatant taunts had lessened, the undercurrent of judgment remained.
Our second year brought with it more advanced magical theory and, crucially, the annual Inter-House Athletic Meet. This wasn't just about physical prowess; it was a showcase of practical spellcasting, agility, and magical control. The entire academy, from first-years to the most esteemed professors, gathered in the massive enchanted arena.
The arena was designed to adapt to various magical challenges. For the opening event, the "Elemental Gauntlet," the ground morphed into a treacherous obstacle course of shifting earth, gusts of wind, and pools of churning water. Participants had to use basic elemental spells to navigate it. Eliza and I were entered into the first heat, wearing plain, breathable grey tracksuits that once again marked us apart from the vibrant, house-colored uniforms of the other teams.
As my turn approached, I watched the other students. Their movements were fluid, their spells almost instinctive. They conjured gusts of wind to propel themselves over chasms and solidified earth beneath their feet to cross muddy stretches. It was elegant, controlled magic.
Eliza went before me. She tried her best, summoning weak gusts of air that barely lifted her, and her earth spells crumbled underfoot. She stumbled through a section, earning sympathetic murmurs and polite claps, before finishing with a dejected slump.
"You'll do better," she said to me, her voice flat, as I stepped up to the starting line. Her eyes held a mixture of hope and resignation.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My heart hammered, but it wasn't fear. It was the thrill of the challenge. This wasn't for glory or applause. This was a test of my own growth.
The starting bell rang. I sprinted forward, my mind already assessing the first obstacle: a wide, muddy trench. Instead of conjuring solid earth, I focused my will, drawing energy from deep within. The mud beneath my feet didn't solidify; it hardened, almost instantly, into a smooth, dry path that carried me effortlessly across. My movements were less graceful than the other students, more direct, almost brutal in their efficiency.
The next obstacle was a series of floating platforms, separated by strong currents of wind designed to knock you off. My peers used precise wind spells to glide from one to another. I didn't glide. I pushed off the first platform, channeling a powerful blast of air behind me, propelling myself across the gap with raw force, landing solidly on the next. The wind was a roaring extension of my will, not a gentle current.
A gasp went through the crowd. I heard whispers, not of disdain, but of surprise. "Did you see that?" "Her control... it's so raw!"
I wasn't performing for them. I was performing for Leon, for the ghost of my family. With each obstacle I conquered, the rage that usually simmered beneath the surface sharpened into a cold, focused energy. I moved with a single-minded determination, ignoring the cheers that slowly began to build for my unorthodox yet effective methods.
When I crossed the finish line, not only had I beaten Eliza's time, but I had placed third overall in our heat, surprising everyone, including myself. My body hummed with residual magic.
Eliza was waiting for me, her face pale. "Kira," she started, her voice strained. "That was... that was incredible. Your magic... it's so different."
I saw the flicker of something new in her eyes—not just disappointment, but a nascent envy. "It's just practice," I said, dismissively. I didn't want to talk about it. My method was effective, but it was ugly compared to the elegant magic of the others.
From the stands, I briefly caught sight of him again. The magician, still unnamed to me, was there. He wasn't cheering, nor was he frowning. His gaze was fixed on me, analytical, as if dissecting my every move. He wasn't just observing now; he was studying.
The meet continued, but my moment in the spotlight had changed something. The other students, who had once dismissed me, now looked at me with a new, wary respect. But the wedge between Eliza and me had begun to grow, widening with every powerful spell I cast.