The carcass of the fallen skybeast still twitched on the ground, its crimson wings stained darker with blood. Steam rose from its scales where Feyla's water shaft had struck deep. For a moment, the entire clearing was silent. Then, like a dam breaking, the students burst into whispers.
"That was unreal…" one boy muttered, eyes wide.
"She didn't even blink," a girl added, almost in awe.
Another shook his head. "I thought we'd be fighting together, not watching her finish it in seconds."
Bren snorted, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Don't make her into something she's not. Water grounds wings. It was the obvious move. Any of us could've done it."
The sneer in his voice carried, but Jorin was already watching him with an expression like a blade's edge. His voice cracked the air like thunder. "Luck had nothing to do with it. Feyla used her ability with precision. She read the situation, acted without hesitation, and struck with intent. That is why the beast lies dead at her feet."
Bren's smirk faltered, but he said nothing. He dropped his eyes instead, jaw tight with unspoken resentment.
Jorin paced forward, boots crunching against the brittle ground. His gaze swept over each student, holding their attention like a storm about to break. "This was only a demonstration. Do not fool yourselves into thinking your task will be as easy. The skybeast is dangerous, and a single mistake can mean your death."
The whispers died at once. Weapons shifted uneasily in young hands.
"Now," Jorin continued, his tone even heavier, "your mission is simple in words, harder in action: each of you will claim a core of your own. That core must be taken with your weapon, through your own effort. You may work together, but the kill must be yours. When you return to me, you will return with proof of your strength."
A ripple of nerves ran through the group. Some students muttered quietly, forming pairs with their closest friends. Others lingered, uncertain, watching the shadows above. The trees loomed, tall and skeletal, every twisted branch seeming to hide a flash of red scale or the gleam of predatory eyes.
Kael scanned the group. Some kids looked eager, gripping their weapons too tightly. Others were pale, breathing too fast, as though their courage was already leaking away.
Beside him, Feyla's hand brushed his sleeve. When he glanced at her, her voice was low but steady. "We'll go together, right?"
Kael gave a small nod. "Always."
Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of what lay ahead dulled it. Still, she didn't move away.
Across the clearing, Bren barked at two other students, forcing them into his group with a glare. "Stay out of my way. I'll take mine fast, then you can clean up what's left."
The others obeyed, though their faces showed no pride in the arrangement.
Jorin watched it all unfold, saying nothing at first. Then, when the last of the groups had settled, he raised his voice once more. "Remember: in the air, they are faster than your eyes can follow. Do not chase them skyward. Force them down. Strike when they are grounded. End it before they rise again."
His words hung heavy in the stillness.
The class shifted, scattering slowly between the red-barked trees. Their voices lowered to whispers, blades and staves ready in uncertain hands. The dry forest seemed to swallow the sound of their footsteps, leaving only the faint rustle of wings above and the ever-present tension clawing at their nerves.
Kael adjusted his grip on his newly forged dagger, the weight of the weapon oddly comforting. Feyla kept close, her water shaft glinting faintly as she glanced upward.
The hunt had begun.