The Final Strife

But it was the center of the map that had Sylah reeling. Ten times the size of the empire, the Queendom of Tenio was carefully transcribed to the page. In the center of it was a town called the Zwina Academy. Small buildings that looked like libraries and courtyards surrounded a tall bell tower, bloated out of proportion to signify the town.

Anoor was looking at the same thing as she asked.

“I wonder if they have a tidewind there?”

“I don’t know.” Sylah looked away toward the window. “We need to go; you need to rest for the trial tomorrow.”

“We can’t, Sylah, the tidewind’s still going.”

They would die if they left now. The tidewind should have abated at second strike, and now they were trapped.

“Let’s sleep here.”

“What? On the stone floor? It’ll be freezing!”

“We’ll huddle to keep warm.” Sylah dragged the dummy to the center of the room and tipped it over. “A pillow,” she said.

Anoor’s eyes lit up with excitement, and she was soon curled around the straw arm of the dummy she had pummeled to shreds more than once. Sylah joined her on the floor.

Their eyes locked.

“Are you cold?”

Anoor shrugged, but it wasn’t a no. Sylah moved her body closer and wrapped her arms around her.

Anoor sighed into the crook of Sylah’s arm, and her breath burned Sylah’s skin.

“Comfortable?” Sylah asked into her hair.

“Mhmm.” Her mumble was drowsy, and Sylah smiled.

She didn’t go to sleep for a long time. Anoor’s breath sent tingles down her arm with each exhale.

It was a feeling that Sylah didn’t want to miss by sleeping.

—

“Competitors and audience members. We continue with the fifth trial of the Aktibar: bloodwerk.” The crowd roared at Anoor’s mother. They were even more bloodthirsty than usual. “The competitors below have proven their stratagems and their minds, but they have not yet proven what makes Embers so mighty: our power.” Uka smiled at the cheering crowd. Anoor simmered with anger beneath her nerves. Yanis was at the far end of the arena and she was glad of it.

Yona was sitting to Uka’s right, her legs crossed, arms folded. She was smiling at Anoor, actually smiling; it must have been making her mother’s blood boil.

Anoor looked around her. There were only twenty competitors left. Only twenty. Anoor knew her bloodwerk skills were exquisite, her ability to draw detailed runes from her mind was second to none in her class. But that wasn’t what had held her back. Gorn’s blood had always ended up failing. Blood away from a host’s body too long rendered the runes useless, as she had discovered over time.

The extra three years she’d studied bloodwerk had prepared her for this moment more than anything else. She just wished she could use her own blood.

Sylah had come to her early in the morning, a vial in her hand.

“I want you to use my blood today.”

“What?”

“You’ve said it yourself, there’s a lot of power in my veins, and my bloodwerk always pushes further than Gorn’s.”

It was true, whenever Anoor had demonstrated by using Kha on an object, Sylah’s object always went twice the distance.

“Are you sure?” Anoor said.

Sylah pushed the vial into her hands, their fingers brushing.