After the matches wrapped up, and the echo of our celebrations finally dulled, the announcer's voice returned. Calm, deep and far too composed for what was next.
"Ladies and gentlemen, after an absolutely thrilling set of matches in the quarter finals, I'm pleased to announce that
the semi final pairings have now been decided. The qualifying colleges are Crescent, Noctis, Kingsreed and Ashmoore. The event will be a 1600 meter relay race."
Next to fighting, races were unarguably the most popular sport in the vampire curriculum, and for good reason too. I mean, imagine you could run twice (sometimes thrice) as fast as a regular person, who wouldn't jump at the chance to unleash their inner speed demon? And because it was such a popular sport, nobody really wanted to lose, much less in a semi final event. This wasn't going to be easy.
I watched as the names lit up on the score
board. The digital board flickered, then flashed: Noctis Vs. Kingsreed, Crescent Vs. Ashmoore. A few people clapped, but most were just processing. I know I was.
Scott let out a long exhale beside me.
"Well, at least Kingsreed is someone else's problem."
Mackenzie gave him a look. "Ashmoore isn't exactly Sunday brunch."
"They don't scare me," Henry muttered,
face set with determination.
"Well," Ms. Flores said, "We've got work
to do. Let's move."
***************
Our meeting in Ms. Flores' room began
immediately we got back to the Clover. This time, the lights were low and the curtain
drawn. Only the soft orange glow from her desk lamp cut through the hush. We piled in, one by one, drained and wired from the day. I sat down on the sofa, kicking off my shoes and spreading my legs awkwardly to hide my anxiety. I was itching for some action.
"You guys did well today, Zoë, Scott and
Laura. It was close, maybe a little too close than I'd like, but we're in the semis. We're almost there guys. We win tomorrow and make history the next day. That was always the plan."
Henry nodded. "Definitely."
"For tomorrow, we're going with Henry and Zoë."
Zoë gave a single nod. That was all, like
she'd expected it. Henry didn't speak either, just ran a hand down the back of his neck and exhaled real slow.
"Henry, you're starting. I need you to build a good lead tomorrow, and Zoë will close it. Both of you go loosen up. Nothing crazy. Stretch, focus and get your circuits activated. I want you in rhythm before morning."
"Got it."
"Will do."
"Alright that's all. We hold our last meeting tomorrow. The rest of you, go get some sleep," Ms. Flores said.
I stood up to leave but before I got two steps:
"Darmian."
Her voice cut through the room like a thread pulled tight. "Stay."
The door closed behind the others, and the room was suddenly much quieter. Only the hum of AC now, and the soft creak of her chair as she leaned back slightly filled the room. My mind was racing, frantically trying to remember if I did or said something bad.
"You've been watching," she said.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Good, because I want your read."
I blinked. "You mean…on us? Or the others?"
"All of it."
She turned her chair slightly toward me. Not hostile, not even challenging. Just…focused. "We're down to four colleges. One more race and we're into the final. I want to know what you see, Darmian. What you've picked up. Weaknesses, strengths, ours, theirs. Don't worry about sounding overconfident or dramatic. I want honesty."
That was strange. Ms. Flores didn't usually ask for opinions unless she already had one, and wanted to test yours against it.
I sat forward slowly, lost in thought.
"Ashmore's neat," I said. "They've been pretty disciplined so far. They don't waste motion too often. Everything is clean, like they've rehearsed in their heads a hundred times already."
Ms. Flores gave a slight nod. "Go on."
"Kingsreed's unpredictable. They're strong, yeah, but chaotic. They've crushed all their opponents so far. But there's a lack of stability in their dynamics sometimes."
She raised an eyebrow. "You think they're
unstable?"
"I think they're dangerous because they're unstable. They'll do anything to win, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not."
She smiled at that. Just barely. "And Noctis?"
I paused. "They're quiet and patient. A lot of people feel they've been underwhelming because of close victories despite the fact that they've always been a major contender in the competition decades before. They can be lethal, but I feel like they've been holding back for a while now."
"Interesting," she murmured. "And Crescent?"
I exhaled. That was harder to answer. "We're solid. Still finding our rhythm, but the pieces fit. The last few matches have really tested everyone's ability…and nerve. But it's expected. There's no clear win from this point forward.
"Good observation. It's not just the events that are more challenging. Our opponents are much tougher each round." She leaned back, fingers loosely interlocked on her lap. "And you?"
I hesitated. That wasn't what I expected
her to ask that. "What about me?"
She shrugged. "You've been the observer
this whole time. Watching more than talking. I want to know what you think your place in this team is."
I looked down at my hands, then at the
soft yellow light spilling across the floor. "Right now? I think I'm a spectator with a front row seat."
"That's not what I meant."
I nodded slowly. "I'm nervous. Have been
since we got here from day one. And not just because of the finals. It's everything. Everyone's pushing past their limits and I haven't even touched mine yet. I feel like I'm sitting on a fault line, and the pressure's building underneath, but there's no quake yet."
She didn't respond immediately. Just let
the silence settle. "That's a good metaphor."
I cracked a small smile. "I believe in them. Zoë and Henry. The whole team. We earned this semi final. We've proven we belong where we are now."
"And you?"
I paused again. "I guess I'm still trying to prove it."
"That's fair," she said, leaning backwards. "I'm not here to throw motivational slogans at you, Darmian. But I will say this though, most people break before they blossom. Trust yourself to rise when it's time."
"Even if I have no idea when that is?"
"Especially then."
***************
I left Ms. Flores' room with my thoughts muddled inside my head. I didn't expect her to grill me like that, but it felt good knowing she still counted on me to get the job done if we actually did make it to the finals.
The hallway lights buzzed quietly, dim and
yellowish. Henry and Zoë were probably at the gym preparing for tomorrow. I decided against stopping by and headed towards my room instead.
I turned a corner toward my room, and
nearly walked straight into someone coming the other way.
"Oh…sorry," I said, stepping back.
He laughed and raised a hand. "All good
bro. My fault."
I recognized the uniform first; Ravenhurst. But it wasn't Sean. This guy was leaner, a little shorter and had the body language of someone who didn't get rattled easily.
"You're from Crescent?" he said looking at my badge.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Sean mentioned something like that
yesterday. Cool," he said, sticking out a hand. "Kain."
"Darmian," I said gripping his hand. "Didn't know Ravenhurst was still around."
"We're out of the tournament," he shrugged, "but we might as well see the rest of the matches play out. Figured we'd stay and watch the fireworks."
"Fair enough."
We started walking the same way, slowly. He didn't seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere, and honestly, neither was I.
"Crescent's made some noise," he said
after a pause. "Wasn't expecting that."
"Neither were we," I said making him grin.
"That pole vault match? Ridiculous. And the tug-of-war…damn. You guys don't play around for real."
"You seem pretty chill about it. A little too much," I said slyly.
"Nah. I'm not salty or anything. The better team won. Do I think it would be the same result again? Definitely not."
I chuckled at that.
"Maybe it was luck, maybe not. Who knows? I'm more of a 'now', typa guy. There's no changing what happened in the past, so why bother?" he said thoughtfully.
"That's an interesting perspective," I said.
"I guess it is."
"What do other schools think?" I asked
trying to sound casual. "About us."
Kain glanced at me, then looked back ahead. "Depends who you ask. Some have you guys as underdogs, some think you've been riding purely on luck so far. But others?" He laughed once, softly. "They're
pissed."
"Why?"
"Because nobody really knew Crescent
before this tournament. You guys came in like background music. Now you're killing headliners."
I felt something flicker in my chest at
that. Pride.
"They're calling you guys the Kingslayers," Kain added. "Pretty ominous, yeah. But you knocked us out, won Frostville, and flipped some predictions on their heads."
"That a compliment?"
"Could be," he said with a half-smile. "But
it also means you've got the attention of the big wolves now, which isn't always such a good thing."
I stopped walking. He did too, after a step. "You think they'll come for us?"
Kain tilted his head, like he was weighing
something. "I don't think it's that dramatic. But sometimes you hear stories from seniors. The deeper you go, the more everyone becomes more desperate, and
contestants start getting…flexible."
He started walking again, slower now. "It's
not personal. Just how it is. This isn't a charity tournament. It's the C.V.C., and everybody's trying not to be the last one out."
I nodded, absorbing everything he said.
"Thanks for the heads up I guess."
He stopped in front of his room and gave a
small wave. "Good luck tomorrow, Darmian."
"Thanks."
"Hope you make it to the final. If you're going to knock us out you might as well win the entire competition," he said, considering that. He disappeared inside with a soft click of the door.
The hallway felt quieter after that. I kept
walking towards my room. Kingslayer. The other schools saw us as a real threat now. I felt a jolt of excitement that made me almost shiver. The pressure was more real than ever, and we were absolutely up for it.
"No doubt about it," I said entering my
room.
***************
The first thing I saw when I cracked my
eyes open was the thin strips of sunlight forcing its way between the curtains. I didn't need to check the clock to know I'd overslept; the weight in my stomach told me. I was in no hurry to face the day. Maybe my nerves decided I was safer unconscious. By the time I dragged myself into the shower and threw on my uniform, it was past eleven.
The semi finals wasn't until noon, which wasn't really exciting news. Midday meant
peak sunlight, the kind that forced vampires to work much harder just to feel normal. The semi final and final were always scheduled by 12PM. It was tradition, apparently. A test of stamina and adaptability, which was basically another way of saying: let's see who can keep their powers stable while the sun tries to give them a tan.
I didn't order a large breakfast, afraid that my nerves would make me throw up. Just a large orange juice was enough before I locked my room and headed to the ground floor.
The rest of the squad was already in the
lobby when I got to the ground floor. Scott was snoring on a couch, Mackenzie had both ear pods in humming loudly to her music. Marcus was reading a book, Zoë was rechecking her (and Henry's) equipment, Henry was watching a documentary on the TV in the lobby, and Ms. Flores…well, she looked like she'd just rolled out of bed herself, which was oddly comforting.
"About time," Henry called. "Thought you
were gonna make us forfeit."
I smirked. "You'd like that wouldn't you?
Less pressure when you choke."
Henry's grin didn't waver. "Watch me leave the other guy eating dust."
Ms. Flores clapped her hands once.
"Alright children, let's go. No time to waste."
The drive to Frostville was mostly quiet.
None of us really talked much. Everyone had their own head game to play. Out the window, the world seemed too bright. Too sharp, like someone had cranked the saturation up on reality. The sun hung overhead like it knew exactly what it was doing.
We got to Frostville fifteen minutes
later, and the noise hit us before we even opened the doors. The matches hadn't
begun and the noise from the stadium was already surging.
Outside, the air shimmered with heat. The
sun was brutal, pressing down like it was trying to melt the asphalt. There was a long line of delegates, reporters and officials filed past the entrance, their badges flashing under the glare. Everywhere I looked, there were flags, school colours draped over
shoulders and sewn into jackets.
Inside was chaos. The stadium was packed to breaking point, every seat filled, every aisle crammed with people craning
their necks for a better view. Cameras hovered on suspended rigs, sweeping over
the pitch, recording every moment of the event across the colleges in North America.
The semi finals. The moment where the stakes were so high that even breathing
felt like a strategy.
We took our seats on the bench, tucked to
the side of the pitch. Across us, Kingsreed and Noctis were already warming up on the other side of the track. The air between them was charged, not hostile, but the kind of competitive current that gave you goosebumps.
A couple minutes later, the announcer's
voice boomed over the speakers, formal and almost ceremonial. "Before we begin today's events, we have messages of goodwill from the Continental Board of
Collegiate Sports…"
A few delegates stepped up, speaking in polished tones about unity, sportsmanship
and the honour of representing one's school. Polite applause came after each, but no one here was foolish themselves. This wasn't why the stadium was full. Everyone was waiting for the whistle.
"And now, the first semi final match!" the
announcer's voice sharpened, the crowd roaring as if on cue. "Kingsreed College
Vs. Noctis College!"
The reaction was instant. Supporters erupted into chants, stomping their feet hard
enough to rattle the benches. Waves of sounds and clapping engulfed the stadium
as the first race began.
On the track, the runners stepped forward. Kingsreed was going with Greg Fern, a tall and lean guy with a relaxed grin
that dared you to underestimate him. He was starting, while Zack Lowe, his partner was finishing. Zack still had the calm focus I'd noticed in him during our scuffle a few days ago. Noctis was fielding Ted McCarthy, broad shouldered, legs like coiled springs, pacing in tight circles while shaking out his arms. And then there was Nia Hart, compact, wry and radiating sharp-eyed intensity.
"Runners to your marks!"
The crowd's roar dimmed into a tense hum. Ted and Greg crouched into position, batons angled forward like extensions of their will. The sun glared off the track, heat rising in shimmering waves. Both contestants had now settled their feet into the grooves, shoulders rolling, jaws set.
"Set…"
The stadium seemed to hold it's breath. The flags overhead fluttered in the midday
sun. Ted and Greg already had beads of sweat rolling down their temples, both from the heat and the weight of the moment.
The whistle blew, sharp and electric.
Ted launched forward like he'd been shot from a cannon, but Greg was smoother. He wasted no motion, his strides long and
efficient. Within the first hundred meters, they were side by side, the sound of their spikes biting into the track, mixing with the low roar of the crowd.
They powered through the first curve, and
Greg began to inch ahead, his pace unwavering. Ted was trying to shoot back, but every time he pushed, Greg matched it with another burst. By the end of the first lap, Kingsreed was ahead with a body-length lead.
The second lap was a war of will. Ted's
face twisted with effort, each breath sharp and heavy, but Greg's expression stayed loose, almost casual. By the time they hit the final hundred meters before the handoff, Greg had widened the gap to about three seconds.
The baton pass was clean for both sides. Greg slapped the stick into Zack's hand with a snap, and Ted shoved his into Nia's palm with a desperate push.
Zack didn't just run, he hunted. As soon as he gripped the baton, he took off with huge strides, each one carrying a raw driving force that made the stadium's noise spike. But Nia was no slouch as well. She moved fast, light on her feet and she shot out trying to close the gap for the remaining laps.
Midway through the third lap, it seemed
Nia would equal the lead as she began inching closer and closer to Zack. And then, Zack struck. A surge so sudden it looked like he'd been jogging, and he slipped past her on the inside, his footfalls pounding like drumbeats.
From there, it wasn't question of if, but
by how much. He tore through the final lap with brutal precision. The finish line came up in a blur of heat and screaming voices. He crossed it with arms pumping and his chest forward. The whistle blew and the stadium erupted. Kingsreed was going to the finals.
Marcus sighed nervously, "Well that's just
great."
The message from Kingsreed was loud and clear; we're ready. The race wasn't even close. Nia had finished about seven seconds after Zack. Noctis was pushed aside without much effort, and the crowd was loving it. Even from the benches, I could feel the electricity lingering, like the track itself was humming.
And then the names on the scoreboard
shifted and another hush swept over the noise. It was our turn.
"For our final game today, Crescent Vs. Ashmoore!" the announcer called as Henry and Zoë got up. I didn't need to say anything. I trusted them to get the job done…we all did. They were up against Stephen Dillon and Fred Holby. Both contestants looked confident and focused. This wasn't going to be easy by any means.
"Racers!" the announcer's voice boomed. "On your marks!"
My pulse jumped. This was it. Win and we'd be in the finals. It was do or die now. We
leaned forward, silent and tense as the crowd quietened. Henry got into position, eyes set straight ahead. Next to him, Stephen settled into position, slow and deliberate, a picture of calm and steadiness.
"Set!"
The hush deepened. I could barely breathe. And then the whistle.
They propelled forward like arrows. For
the first hundred meters, there was nothing between them. They matched each other stride for stride, arm for arm. Stephen's face was stone, while Henry's jawwas set in that stubborn lock I knew too well. Around the bend they went, and the stadium found its voices again.
Everywhere I looked, people were on their
feet. Some chanting for us, others for Ashmoore. The tension was unbearable. I
dug my nails into my knees tracking Henry as he raced across the track. The first lap ended with no advantage. They were both even, but my chest was still tight.
Stephen made his move early into the
second lap, with a surge of speed. The gap widened by half a meter, then a full step, then more.
"No, no, no…" Mackenzie whispered.
Henry's rhythm was faltering. His breathing looked ragged. He was slipping, dangerously. The voices around me blurred into a roar as I watched Henry begin to fall
behind.
But then, on the far bend, something
changed. His eyes locked forward, fangs bared, arms pumping harder. He dug deep, clawing back with every step. The gap began to close, inch by inch until he was level again.
We leapt to our feet, screaming.
"Go Henry!"
"You've got this man!"
My chest felt like it would split open. And then, Henry pushed past Stephen who was staring in disbelief as he cut the lead in the final stretch before the exchange.
Zoë's hand snapped out. Henry slapped it
hard, almost stumbling from the effort, and Zoë was gone in a blur. She had asmall lead thanks to Henry and wasted no time as Stephen handed his baton to Fred. She was sharp and focused. Fred tried to close in on her, but she widened her lead bit by bit, each bend stretching the distance.
"C'mon Zoë," I heard Ms. Flores mutter.
The gap was real now. Five seconds at
least. I could see it, feel it. The stadium started to sway towards us, voices rising with belief. Zoë's hair whipped behind her as she drove down the track, Fred's face tightening as he struggled to match her. For the first time that afternoon, I believed. We were winning. We were going to the final!
Then Fred moved.
It wasn't just speed, it was violence. I
heard a low growl, and from nowhere, his entire body seemed to snap into overdrive, his muscles straining as if he'd been holding back all along. I watched in disbelief as the gap Zoë carved began to collapse. Four seconds, three…
The Ashmoore bench smelled blood, their chants spurring the crowd into a deafening
storm. Zoë fought like hell, her jaw clenched, every ounce of her will pouring into her strides. It was clear she'd been surprised by Fred's sudden speed burst. Her eyes widened once she caught a glimpse of him catching up behind her. She was still ahead, but Fred was hunting her down.
Fifty meters.
The noise was unbearable. Every person in the stadium was either screaming, standing or both, the sound crashing over me like a tide.
Thirty meters.
He was right there. My heart slammed against my ribs.
Twenty meters.
Neck and neck now, their shoulders
brushing, their faces twisted in raw agony. Zoë's gasp echoed across the track, desperate, defiant. Fred's grunt tore through the stadium, animal and ruthless.
Ten meters.
The world slowed. Every stride was thunder, every breath, fire.
Five.
The finish line was just ahead. They
hurled themselves at it, bodies straining, arms clawing throughout air. Everyone was on their feet now, as both runners crossed the finish line.
They crossed together. For a heartbeat the entire stadium froze. Then the truth hit. There was no need for a photo finish. It was close, but we were vampires. It was clear as daylight.
"Ashmoore College win!!"
Fred's chest broke the line first. We lost.
The eruption was instant and merciless. Students yelled, banners flew across the stadium as the entire Ashmore squad collapsed into each other in triumph. The stadium was a storm of colour and sound, the type that shook walls and rattled skies.
But inside me was silence.
Henry stood rooted to the track, chest
heaving, disbelief on his face. Zoë had dropped to her knees, hand clawing at the ground, her breath coming in violent bursts. The sight hit me worse than the finish. She was crying.
Scott sunk back onto the bench, while Marcus had his face in his hands. Mackenzie shook her head in disappointment while Ms. Flores stood unmoving.
I couldn't speak. Couldn't even move. I
was stunned, my eyes fixed on the place where victory had slipped from us by less than a breath. Around me, the world roared. Inside me, everything felt quiet.
It was over. We were out.