Chapter 4

Leander's knuckles turned bone-white around the hilt of his sword. The blade shook slightly in the air between them.

"Elara, please," Leander whispered, his voice cracking. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Just apologize to Master Silas. Beg for mercy. I can fix this."

Elara stared at the man she had once loved. A harsh, ugly sneer twisted her lips.

"You don't have a spine, Leander," she spat, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "You're just a puppet on a string."

Leander's head snapped up. His face flushed a dark, angry red. His pride was his weakest point, and she had just driven a knife right through it. His grip on the sword tightened until his joints popped.

From the edge of the crowd, Seraphina's soft voice drifted over. "Leander, dragging this out only tortures her more. Be merciful. Make it quick."

Leander squeezed his eyes shut. He sucked in a sharp breath.

When his eyes opened, they were dead. The enchanted blade in his hand erupted with blinding, crackling blue lightning.

He swung.

The blade sliced cleanly into Elara's right shoulder. The lightning seared through her flesh, violently snapping the primary mana pathway connected to her collarbone.

The pain was apocalyptic.

Elara's vision went entirely white. A sickening crunch echoed in her own ears. She let out a choked grunt and collapsed onto one knee, the impact sending a shockwave up her shin.

Hot, wet blood immediately soaked through the fabric of her uniform. It dripped down her arm, pooling on the edge of the open abyss.

Leander ground his teeth together. He swung again. And again.

He slashed her left thigh, her right calf, and straight across her back. Every strike severed a major pathway. The lightning cauterized the edges of the wounds, trapping the agonizing heat deep inside her muscles.

Elara collapsed onto the marble floor. She looked like a discarded, bloody ragdoll. Her chest heaved with shallow, erratic breaths. But her eyes were wide open, staring a hole into the ceiling. She didn't let a single tear fall.

Some students in the front row turned their heads away, their stomachs turning at the sheer brutality. But most watched with cold, silent satisfaction.

Leander lowered his sword. He looked down at his blood-splattered boots, his chest heaving.

As he moved to sheathe his weapon, Elara saw it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Seraphina's index finger twitched. A minuscule, nearly invisible needle of compressed Light magic formed at her fingertip, perfectly camouflaged by the residual glare of Leander's lightning. It was a high-tier, traceless piercing spell, aimed directly at Elara's heart.

The chaos core in Elara's gut flared violently, sending a spike of pure adrenaline through her veins.

Using every last ounce of physical strength she had left, Elara threw her weight to the side, rolling half a foot across the bloody marble.

The needle of light shot past her heart and slammed into her left ribcage.

The spell blew a charred, smoking hole through her flesh, the traceless nature of the magic leaving no visible residue. The kinetic force of the impact lifted Elara off the ground and threw her backward.

No one in the crowd even blinked; Seraphina's execution was so utterly flawless and silent that it looked as though Elara's own battered body had simply given out under the agonizing strain of her severed pathways. Only Elara knew her sister had just tried to assassinate her in plain sight.

Elara hit the ground hard, skidding backward until half her body was hanging over the edge of the Stairway of Penance. The freezing wind whipped her hair around her face.

Professor Vance rushed forward, pretending to check if she was dead.

As he rushed forward, his boot caught on the slick, bloody marble. He stumbled, falling hard onto his knees beside her. Under the chaotic flurry of his wide robes and the sudden burst of a bright, blinding green diagnostic spell he cast to mask his movements, Elara felt his warm, trembling fingers shove a small, heavy glass vial deep into the leather of her boot.

"Live," Vance breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

Before he could say another word, a guard shoved Vance hard in the chest, knocking him backward.

Silas stood up. He flicked his wrist dismissively. "Finish it."

Two armored guards stepped up to the ledge. They lowered their long halberds, pressing the cold, flat metal against Elara's bleeding chest.

They shoved.

Leander's hand shot out on pure instinct. He lunged forward to grab her, but his fingers only closed around a torn, bloody piece of her sleeve.

Elara fell backward into the abyss.

She tumbled down the jagged stone steps, her body bouncing violently against the sharp rocks.

The heavy stone floor of the Judgment Hall slammed shut above her, plunging her into absolute, suffocating darkness.

Leander stood frozen at the edge of the seam in the floor. He stared at the bloody scrap of fabric in his hand. His chest tightened so painfully he couldn't pull air into his lungs.

Seraphina walked up beside him. She placed a warm, gentle hand over his. She pulled the fabric from his grip, dropped it onto the floor, and stepped directly on it.

Down in the dark, Elara's body was being torn apart. She bit her tongue to stay awake, forcing the chaos mana to wrap around her heart to keep it beating.

Her bloody fingers reached down and closed around the glass vial in her boot.

The fire of pure hatred burned brighter than the pain.