Free Web NovelChapter 29: Chapter 30: What the actual fuck is happening here?
A slow, electric murmur rolled across the field like distant thunder gathering its strength, low and ominous, vibrating through the soles of my boots and up into my bones. Ysara raised one elegant hand, fingers splayed gracefully against the pale afternoon sky, and the simple gesture was enough to choke every conversation stone-dead in an instant. Laughter died mid-breath. Whispers evaporated into thin air. Heads tilted upward in perfect, instinctive unison, eyes wide and glittering with raw, hungry anticipation for whatever fresh spectacle the professors had decided to unleash next.
For one fragile, trembling heartbeat, the entire academy grounds held its collective breath.
It felt like the hush right before lightning splits the sky wide open and sets the world on fire.
Then the air above us rippled.
At first it was subtle, just faint distortions, a shimmering heat-haze dancing lazily over the sun-warmed grass. But the shimmer thickened, pulled inward, condensed into something tangible. Glowing threads of ethereal light began weaving themselves together out of nothing, braiding brighter and brighter, twisting and knotting until seven perfect orbs materialized high overhead, pulsing with impossible brilliance.
Each one burned with its own fierce, unmistakable color, suspended against the washed-out blue sky like stolen pieces of a shattered rainbow prism.
Green... deep and wild, the color of ancient forest shadows at dusk, alive with untamed mystery.
White... pure and blinding, cold as fresh-fallen snow under a merciless moonlight. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
Black... inky and bottomless, a void that swallowed light rather than reflected it, hungry and infinite. freewēbnoveℓ.com
Gold.... molten and regal, almost liquid, radiating warmth and arrogant authority.
Red... vivid and violent, pulsing like fresh-spilled blood, dangerous and alive with fury.
Grey... smoky and elusive, the restless color of storm clouds holding their rain in threatening silence.
Blue... calm at first glance, yet endlessly shifting between serene cerulean and deepest midnight, impossible to pin down or predict.
They drifted lazily at first, almost playful, bobbing and swaying like luminous jellyfish caught in an invisible, whimsical current. Tiny captive stars trapped in delicate glass. Alive. Watching us back with quiet, knowing amusement.
A soft wave of whispers swept through the crowd, a rising tide of curiosity, excitement, and the sharp metallic tang of nervous anticipation that made the air taste electric.
Ysara’s smile stretched wider, slow and deeply satisfied, like someone who had just set a particularly clever, cruel trap and was now patiently waiting for the first delicious scream.
"These orbs represent the seven official groups of the academy," she announced, her voice smooth as poured silk, carrying effortlessly to every corner of the vast field. "Green. White. Black. Gold. Red. Grey. And Blue."
The moment she named them, each orb flared in proud response, burning brighter, fiercer, as if the colors themselves were preening, honored to be acknowledged.
"Your task is beautifully simple," she continued, her tone almost playful.
Several students actually straightened their shoulders, squaring up like eager soldiers hearing their first battle orders.
"Catch the orb of the color you desire."
A ripple of raw, electric excitement surged through the crowd, sharp gasps, quickened breaths, the restless shuffle of feet ready to bolt at any second.
"However," Irene interjected, stepping forward with predatory, feline grace, her voice cutting through the air like frost on sharpened steel, "each orb will accept exactly six Purgers aside from the ones the Arbiters has chosen. No more. No less."
Right on cue, the orbs jerked violently in mid-air, as though someone had snapped invisible leashes attached to wild beasts.
Then they shot forward.
A collective gasp tore across the field like a physical force.
The glowing spheres streaked through the sky like comets gone feral, zigzagging wildly, diving sharply, soaring again in completely unpredictable, chaotic arcs. They teased the crowd mercilessly, dipping low enough that desperate fingertips brushed against their humming surfaces, only to rocket upward at the last possible second, almost laughing at every outstretched hand and frustrated curse.
"And once exactly six purgers have touched an orb," Ysara finished pleasantly, almost sweetly, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight, "it will burst and vanish forever."
For half a heartbeat, the entire field froze in perfect, breathless stillness.
Then pure, glorious chaos detonated.
Students exploded forward in a roaring, unstoppable human tide.
Werewolves launched themselves across the grass in long, terrifying bounds, powerful muscles coiling and releasing with raw animal grace. Vampires blurred into streaks of living shadow, moving far too fast for the eye to follow comfortably. Witches flung up their hands, voices rising in sharp, staccato incantations as shimmering threads of magic lashed out like silver whips, desperately trying to snare the fleeing lights. Hybrids and humans alike hurled themselves into the fray with nothing but sheer grit, desperation, and reckless abandon, tackling, shoving, clawing, and fighting for every inch of position.
Orbs of vivid color painted wild, streaking trails across the sky while bodies collided below in a beautiful, brutal, exhilarating mess.
A pack of werewolves leaped simultaneously for the red orb as it swooped low; three of them smashed into each other mid-air with bone-jarring force and crashed down in a snarling, tangled heap of limbs, fur, and impressively creative swearing.
A witch near the front hooked the grey orb with a glowing silver filament and began reeling it in triumphantly — only for a vampire to materialize beside her in the blink of an eye, snatch the orb right from her grasp, and vanish again before she could even scream in outrage.
Absolute pandemonium.
And I stood rooted to the spot like a discarded spectator, arms folded tightly across my chest, watching the glorious madness unfold while hot envy chewed greedy holes straight through my ribs.
Honestly...
This looked like fun.
Real, stupid, heart-pounding, adrenaline-soaked fun.
The kind I almost never got to experience.
My gaze roamed restlessly across the chaotic field, tracking the streaking lights, the diving bodies, the brilliant flashes of magic, until it snagged on a very familiar figure cutting through the frenzy.
Elion.
Of course it was Elion.
He was tearing straight toward the red orb with long, powerful strides that ate up the ground, confidence rolling off him in thick, arrogant waves. He moved like he had already won, like failure wasn’t even a remote possibility in his perfect little world. For one breathless second, it really looked like he would catch it clean and effortless.
Then a broad shoulder slammed into his with brutal, deliberate force.
Elion staggered hard, arms windmilling wildly as he fought to stay upright.
Thorne.
The hit hadn’t been accidental. Not even close.
Thorne didn’t bother hiding the smug, satisfied twist of his mouth as he cut directly into Elion’s path and launched himself at the orb just as it dipped low again.
I narrowed my eyes, curiosity sharpening into focus.
That made zero sense.
Red had never been Thorne’s color, not even close.
The Thorne I knew would have gone straight for green without a second thought, green like growing things, like deep forests, like the wild, untamed freedom he always pretended he didn’t secretly crave.
So why the sudden, violent obsession with red?
Why the blatant, shameless sabotage?
I tilted my head slightly, settling in more comfortably like I had just discovered the best drama this miserable academy had offered in days.
If they wanted to tear each other apart over a glowing ball neither of them actually wanted, I was more than happy to watch the entire show with imaginary popcorn in hand.
Elion recovered in the blink of an eye, too fast, too smooth, too graceful. He darted past Thorne and leaped high, fingers grazing the red orb’s humming surface. Light flared in bright, approving acknowledgment.
But before he could close his hand around it,
Thorne’s fingers clamped around Elion’s wrist mid-air and yanked hard.
They crashed back to earth in a violent tangle of limbs and colorful curses, rolling once before springing apart like rival predators.
Nearby students scattered like startled birds fleeing a storm.
I blinked, stunned.
Oh... Oh...
Thorne wasn’t just blocking him.
He was actively sabotaging him.
Over a color he didn’t even care about.
And he didn’t look remotely guilty about it. If anything, he looked annoyed that Elion had come so dangerously close.
Elion rose calmly to his feet, brushing invisible dirt from his sleeve with exaggerated, theatrical care. Then he turned that lazy, lethal smile on Thorne, the kind of smile that said he was mildly entertained rather than truly furious.
Even from fifty yards away, I could see their mouths moving rapidly.
Probably trading barbs so sharp they could draw blood.
The red orb zipped away again, streaking toward the far end of the field in a defiant blaze, leaving both men standing there like coiled, dangerous predators silently deciding whose throat to rip out first.
A soft, involuntary laugh escaped my lips.
For someone who supposedly barely knew Elion this morning...
Thorne was putting in an awful lot of effort to completely ruin his day.
Then Elion’s head turned.
His gaze cut straight across the roaring chaos.
Straight to me.
The moment our eyes locked, his grin stretched wider, slow, and full of pure, unfiltered trouble.
I whipped my head away so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.
But then I froze.
Why the hell was I avoiding his stare?
I hadn’t done anything wrong.
So I looked back, defiant.
Not my circus. Not my monkeys. Not my problem.
Let them destroy each other. I was just here for the show.
But the next instant, both of them moved again, like they had silently agreed on a pact of mutually assured destruction.
They launched forward at the exact same second.
Elion stretched desperately toward the red orb.
Thorne lunged, not for the orb, but straight for Elion’s reaching hand, clearly intending to slap it away again with vicious precision.
Physics, momentum, sheer bad luck... or maybe fate itself had other, far more humiliating plans for them.
Because their bodies collided mid-air with bruising, bone-jarring force.
Their hands hit the orb at the identical, catastrophic moment.
Light exploded in a blinding, searing flare...
And because of the angle, the speed, the violent crash of their trajectories...
Their faces smashed together.
Lips brushing lips.
For the shortest, most disastrous, most mortifying heartbeat imaginable.
My brain simply... stopped.
What the actual fuck is happening here?
