Chapter 3

The applause had barely died down when Duke Darian strode toward me, his boots crunching against the gravel of the training grounds. My heart, still hammering from the gauntlet, stuttered at the sight of him. His sapphire gaze flicked to the trolls still twitching on the ground, then back to me, one dark brow arching.

“So. Lightning magic.” His voice was smooth, unreadable.

I swallowed. “Uh. Just a lucky accident.”

Jeb, ever the traitor, clapped me on the back. “Lucky? That was incredible! I thought you were gonna eat dirt, but instead—BAM! You fried those trolls like festival turkey legs!”

Darian ignored Jeb entirely, stepping closer, eyes locked onto me like a predator sizing up its prey. “You have control over it?”

“Of course,” I lied.

“Prove it.”

The words sent an icy bolt through my spine. “Right now?”

A slow, calculating smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Unless you’d rather run the gauntlet again.”

I resisted the urge to groan. I had *just* survived that nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand, willing the same crackling energy to appear. But my nerves were shot, and all I managed was a few weak sparks before the magic fizzled out.

Darian exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “That’s what I thought.”

Frustration burned in my gut. I *had* done it before! So why couldn’t I—?

Before I could overthink it, Darian caught my wrist. His touch was firm but not rough, and magic *flared* beneath my skin at the contact, leaping between us in a flickering arc of blue light.

For a split second, his expression changed. Not surprise—more like recognition. Then it was gone, replaced with his usual air of detached amusement. He let go.

“Hm.” His gaze swept over me once more before he turned on his heel. “You’re coming with me.”

I blinked. “I—I am?”

Jeb whistled. “Oh, you’re in *trouble*.”

Darian didn’t look back. “Unless you’d prefer to explain to the instructors why you’ve been hiding your magic?”

Panic surged through me.

“Coming!” I blurted, rushing after him.

Whatever test the Duke had planned… I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like it.

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The air felt thick with tension as Duke Darian led me through the winding halls of the academy, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. We hadn’t spoken since he gave me that cryptic order to follow him. I couldn’t decide whether the silence was ominous or just plain awkward. Eventually, we reached a heavy wooden door—much heavier than any door I’d seen on the training grounds. Darian opened it without a word, revealing a narrow, dimly lit corridor. My eyes flicked to the torches lining the walls. The low light made the place feel ancient, almost forgotten.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice betraying my unease.

“Where you’ll learn how to control your magic,” Darian said, his tone cool, detached.

That wasn’t exactly reassuring.

We descended a flight of stairs, the further we went the darker it became, until we reached a large underground chamber. The space was filled with racks of weapons, wooden training dummies, and the unmistakable scent of old magic and sweat. It looked like a battle arena—*not* where I imagined I'd be learning to use lightning magic.

I glanced around nervously. “You weren’t kidding when you said we were going to ‘train,’ huh?”

Darian didn’t even spare a glance at me. He walked over to a weapon rack and casually picked up a sword, testing its weight in his hand. “We’re not here to ‘train’ in the usual sense. I’m here to see if you have what it takes.”

“To do what?”

“To survive.” His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and unyielding. “You’ll face many enemies in this world, Lysandra. You can’t afford to hesitate or hope for the best. Magic won’t save you if you don’t control it.”

I swallowed. “And you think I’m supposed to learn that here?”

Without answering, Darian strode over to me, placing the sword down on a nearby table. “Show me your magic. *Now*.”

The command was so cold, so certain, it left no room for argument. My hands trembled slightly, but I did my best to steady myself. I reached deep within, searching for the spark of power that had been so elusive. I *felt* it—coiled in my chest, waiting.

I held my breath, trying to pull it into my palm.

A few sparks danced between my fingers.

Darian raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Pathetic.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I—”

He didn’t let me finish. Before I could say another word, he moved.

It was so fast. One moment, he was a few feet away. The next, his sword was inches from my throat, the tip just grazing the skin.

“React,” he ordered, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

I panicked, my heart slamming in my chest. Without thinking, I raised my hands and—

*Crack.*

Lightning shot from my fingertips, just missing Darian’s chest, but still making the air hum with energy. The arc of magic singed his cloak, but he was unfazed.

He stepped back, slowly. “Better. But you’re still sloppy.”

I was breathing heavily, my pulse racing. “This is insane.”

“I’m *insane*? You’re the one who doesn’t know how to control your magic.” He tilted his head. “Again.”

I clenched my fists, willing the magic back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But the smirk on his face said it all: he wasn’t.

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