Chapter One
Alara had never forgotten the smell of burning flesh. Smoky. Rich. Metallic. She felt it sear through her, filling her lungs, threatening to choke her as she watched the scene play out.
She had lit someone on fire—again.
This was how she would fail the Haven. Fail Emaru. Fail everyone.
Time seemed frozen in the moment her fire magia had reached out to spark the flames across Raquel’s tunic. The other magite stared, wide-eyed in horror as her sleeve was eaten into ash. Senye Emaru stood behind Alara, a firm hand on her shoulder, squeezing her hard enough to bruise.
She could have turned on her teacher. Yelled that it was her fault for pushing her— threatening to fail her out of school. But the councilwoman wouldn’t have even flinched under her verbal assault. She’d only give Alara the same look of icy disappointment she had given countless times before, whenever the girl had lost control of her magia.
So Alara did the one thing she trusted herself to do—she moved decisively forward, ripping off her thin leather vest and throwing it over Raquel’s arm before she even had time to scream. The heat and light of her magia immediately went out, throwing their small group back into darkness.
The night stilled again as they stared wide-eyed at Alara. It wasn’t the first time her magia had failed her or the group. But it was the first in a long time that she’d accidentally set fire to something while trying to use her mind-stalking ability. She knew what they were all thinking: even a seven-year-old would have had better control.
Raquel threw the singed vest at her feet. “Alara! What in El’dyo’s name is the matter with—”
“We will talk about what just happened later,” Emaru said, putting an end to Raquel’s complaints, though Alara knew her guardian and teacher was less pleased with her. Her was biting—more biting than the chilled mountain air. “But for now, I believe we have company.”
It didn’t take Alara’s mind-stalking abilities to know the enemy bruyas had spotted them and were headed straight toward their huddle. Their footsteps were soft but distinct in the silent night. The villagers of Hurazon had locked themselves away in their homes hours before, leaving Alara and the other magites guarding the perimeter in silence. It left the village eerie and quiet as they waited. Even the faint buzzing of insects was dampened by the thick air, soft and hushed. The plan had been to sneak up on the bruyas and surprise them as they attempted to raid the outskirts of the village. There had been reports of bruya sightings in the area for the past few months, and Emaru had taken on the task as a final test for the magites nearing graduation. This task would show their skill with magia, both in protecting the village and capturing the rebels, and prove that they deserved to join the ranks of full-fledged mages.
“For El’dyo!” Emaru said as the shadows in the cloud forest before them shifted.
The others repeated her words, raising their own weapons and arms. Alara threw her vest back on and snatched her wooden staff from the ground. The heat of her magia pulsed in her chest as if still trying to reach out to the smoldering remains of Raquel’s tunic. Their eyes met for only a second, and she saw a flash of fury. She would definitely hear about it later—she probably owed her a new tunic.
Alara was snapped from her thoughts as an arrow whistled by her head, thudding into a tree a few yards behind her. A moment later, the world exploded. Balls of flame met jets of water. Steam hissed and danced in the air as the two collided.
Beside Alara, Raquel took up her bow and shot arrows into the chaos, her hand moving gracefully as she used her wind magia to aim and turn the arrows in unnatural ways. A few hit their targets—wind-filled crystalized receptives exploding against skulls and wrists, unleashing concussive gusts of wind. Nothing deadly. The Haven didn’t kill. Not even those who threatened their country.
Hearing the sounds of heavy footfalls behind her, Alara whipped around to see a dark- eyed bruya coming at her with a spear. She launched to the side and swung her staff to block the man’s blow then swiped at his legs. Like Alara, he only wore thin armor over his chest. His legs were clothed, but unprotected.
She caught him off guard, and the bruya fell onto his back with a dull thump. But before she could celebrate, a blast of wind shot her off her feet and sent her skidding across the dirt. By the time she stood back up, the bruya was running at her again, this time his spear forgotten on the ground and his arms raised up toward her. Another sharp gust of wind pelted her shoulder, and she stumbled back, hands searching in the dark for her staff. She knew a third strike was imminent. This would have been a good time to use her magia. Any other fire magite would be able to blind him, singe his hands, or block his strides with well-aimed shots of fire.
Instead, Alara braced her body for the third blast of air, letting it strike her just as she launched herself to the right. She flew back a few feet, hitting the ground with a bone-aching thud. Her jaw throbbed as she smiled. Her staff was now only a foot from her hand. His eyes widened as she threw herself at him, staff raised. She struck him across the knees and twisted to jam the butt of the staff into his gut. Even the leather armor he wore couldn’t protect his diaphragm from the sharp hit. He fell forward with a wheeze.
“Cuffs!” Alara shouted, realizing the pair she had worn on her belt were no longer there. Had they fallen during the scuffle? Or when she was trying to save her classmate after her accidental murder attempt?
“I’ve got you.” Mitteo came up behind her. She turned back to grab the cuffs just as his foot caught on a root, knocking him face first into the dirt a few feet away, the cuffs clattering to the ground. By the time she’d finally snatched them off the ground, the bruya she had downed was already gone. She bit her lip as Mitteo stumbled up, face muddy and red. The idea that this magite was going to be graduating from the Haven soon, while she was about to fail out sent a wave of unfettered anger through her. The boy was an earth magite and still tripped over every damn root.
She opened her mouth to berate him, but before she was able to get the words out, a wall of heat burned across her vision and fire veered sharply to the left, just missing her.
She didn’t have to look to know that Emaru had saved her tail with a well-timed burst of air. The mage waved her hands calmly in front of her, the magia strain not even registering as she redirected the gust toward the bruyas, using their own powers against them. She gave a sharp flick, and a fire attack from a long-haired bruya ricocheted off an invisible wall, flying toward his own ally.
“Use your magia to corner them!” Her face was fierce, and even in the dark, Emaru’s gray eyes seemed to glow.
Alara gripped her staff and looked back toward the fight. She raised her hand and took a deep breath. She could feel the heat of the torches in the village’s main plaza, their flames leaning toward her. She reached back toward her own center, to the thread of magia that danced there. But as the wave of heat crawled up her chest, she let out a strangled cry and dropped her hand. The magia immediately dissipated and her body went cool.
“Try again,” Emaru said.
“Right now? Don’t you think—”
“Right now, Alara!”
She lifted her hand again, but couldn’t bring herself to reach toward the flames. Dread curled in her stomach at the feel of her buzzing magia. She shook her head, her arm falling limp to her side.
“Useless child,” Emaru said. “Go help Raquel, then!”
Alara tried not the feel the shame shuddering through her in cold waves as she sprinted to where the other girl fought. Raquel moved gracefully between firing arrows and sending bursts of wind at bruyas. As Alara watched her dodge the magia attacks, a small sense of hopelessness rang through her. The Haven’s strategy would always baffle her.
The magites were fighting to capture. The bruyas fought to kill. They were ruthless in their use of magia. Anything to destroy the Council’s rule. Personally, she didn’t think the bruyas deserved saving, not that she’d ever let Emaru hear her voice such things.
One bruya broke off from the group and moved to flank Raquel.
Alara grabbed the bolas from her belt, relieved they hadn’t fallen wherever her cuffs had. With a sharp twist of her wrist, she sent the bolas flying. The rope struck the bruya just below their knees, the stones wrapping around their legs, snapping tight. The figure went down hard.
Alara sprung forward, hoping to catch the bruya and knock them out. But before she could reach them, the bruya had gripped the rope around their ankles, disintegrating them into ash, then jumped to their feet.
She skidded to a stop. It was a younger boy, likely around her own age. His hair was long, falling into his face and partially covering his eyes that grew wide as she approached.
Alara moved into a fighting stance, ready to take him on. But rather than meet her head- on, the boy turned and bolted in the opposite direction. She watched as he melted into the forest.
He wasn’t the only one. As it turned out, all the bruyas were retreating, tearing through the underbrush from where they’d come.
She took a deep breath and let the humid air fill her lungs, heavy and cool. Sweat dripped down between her shoulder blades under her tunic. The night was again hushed and quiet until the sounds of the forest came alive as the shadows stilled between the moss-draped trees.
The magites themselves were no worse for wear, still standing. Still breathing. Still living. They were scattered across the rocky clearing, the flames of Hurazon flickering just behind them.
They had survived the attack in one piece.
Alara’s smile widened involuntarily, and she thrust her staff up in victory as she took in the tired faces around her. Her gaze found Senye Emaru’s, and the look on her face sent her heart stuttering.
“Fool,” Emaru said. Her voice was cold and pierced the air like a knife. “I should never have brought you along. You are clearly not ready.”
