“That was amazing!”

  “You both were amazing!” Cheers erupted as Annabeth and Griffith returned from the arena, their expressions a mix of triumph and exhaustion. Griffith’s forearms were wrapped in healing bandages, covering the deep cuts he’d sustained, while Annabeth looked drained, having used her Sanctum ability to the limit. The healing magic had kept them upright, but it was clear they were feeling the strain.

  Annabeth plopped down beside Newt and Mark, smiling through her fatigue. “Alright, Newt, give my fight a rating.” She leaned back, still catching her breath, but her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

  Newt rubbed his chin, making a show of thinking hard. “Hmm, I’ll give you a seven overall.”

  “A seven?!” Annabeth’s mouth dropped open as she turned to Mark, seeking support. “You have to be joking! Tell me he’s joking.”

  Mark shrugged, his face as unreadable as ever. “You know he doesn’t joke about stuff like this.”

  Annabeth huffed, crossing her arms in frustration. “Of course, you’d shrug. You never pick sides on anything, especially when it matters.”

  Reyna stepped forward, a soft smile on her face as she draped an arm around Annabeth’s shoulders. “I’d say it was a solid eight, at least. You did great out there.”

  Annabeth shot Reyna a grateful look. “At least someone’s being fair. Thank you, Reyna.”

  “You’re welcome, Annabeth. You deserve it.”

  The group shared a warm, companionable silence, their camaraderie strengthened in the aftermath of the day’s trials. The awakening test loomed ahead, and the gravity of what was at stake had settled in, but for now, they were content to simply be together.

  High above the arena, perched on the viewing platform, a pair of watchful eyes observed the group below. An elderly voice broke the quiet. “Impressive, isn’t she?” The old man’s voice was tinged with pride and a hint of something deeper, as if he saw a reflection of the past in Annabeth’s determined stance.

  Beside him, a middle-aged man nodded, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. “Indeed. Her talent is undeniable. In terms of raw skill, she might even rival young Mark.”

  The elderly man, who was none other than the academy’s Headmaster, shook his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I wouldn’t go that far. Mark’s connection to Mana itself is something extraordinary; his reserves are vast and naturally replenished. Annabeth’s ability, however, is different. She simulates that kind of power through sheer will and control, manipulating energy in ways that are just as dangerous but far less innate.”

  The other man, the Head of Studies, nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, of course. But if she awakens to a profession that aligns with elemental manipulation, she’ll be near unstoppable on an open battlefield. She’s only scratching the surface of her potential.”

  The Headmaster’s eyes remained on Annabeth as she laughed with her friends, unaware of the scrutiny from above. “It’s all in the awakening. No one’s fate is set until the moment of truth. And she still has room to grow. If she refines her abilities, she could reshape battlefields, but only if her awakening supports it.”

  The Head of Studies frowned, watching Annabeth closely. “Speaking of her abilities, have we made any progress in understanding how Sanctum works? It’s… unconventional, to say the least.”

  The Headmaster nodded slightly. “Nothing definitive yet. We’ve monitored it closely, but so far, it doesn’t seem to pose any environmental threat. It’s purely personal, amplifying her control in ways we’ve never seen. For now, we’ve permitted its use under supervision.”

  The Head of Studies sighed. “I see. Still, I can’t help but feel uneasy. Abilities like hers are rare, and without proper understanding, it could be unpredictable in the wrong hands.”

  The Headmaster’s gaze didn’t waver. “Every student is a gamble, a risk worth taking. We’ll have to trust her judgment and guidance. Time will tell if she’s up to the challenge.”

  The Head of Studies straightened, bowing slightly. “Very well. I’ll leave the rest to you, Headmaster. Hopefully, all goes well during the professional awakening.”

  As he turned to leave, the Headmaster called out. “You won’t stay to watch young Reyna Rivers? She’s shown remarkable talent in alternative studies. She might be the first Seal Master this kingdom has seen in decades. Surely that’s worth your time.”

  The Head of Studies glanced back, his expression cold. “Why waste my time on someone who likely won’t make it past twenty? My time is precious, Headmaster.” Without waiting for a response, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

  The Headmaster watched him go, a flicker of disapproval crossing his face. “They might surprise us yet,” he murmured, returning his gaze to the arena below, where the maintenance enchantments had already begun repairing the damage from the previous battles.

  These students, he mused, were the best the academy had produced in decades. But that was also why he worried. Typically, graduates were apprenticed into guilds or government units, trained under experienced hands in relative safety. But he doubted this batch would be given such leniency. Their talents would be exploited, pushed to the limits, and tested on the front lines.

  He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his own decisions pressing down. Fifteen years ago, when the edict to weaponize the kingdom’s youth was first passed, it had been met with fierce opposition. The Rivers family, in particular, had objected vehemently. Brenden Rivers, Reyna’s father, had been the loudest voice against the Monarch’s decree—and he had paid with his life.

  His death had silenced many dissenters, but whispers of discontent still lingered, like shadows that never quite faded. The kingdom’s methods, though effective, had nearly doubled the mortality rate of young professionals, from eight percent to a staggering nineteen. It was a steep price, one that haunted the Headmaster’s every decision.

  No profession offered true safety, except one. Dragon Riders, those blessed by dragons themselves, were immediately conscripted into the Monarch’s elite forces. A Dragon Rider’s combat prowess was unmatched, their bond with their dragon making them formidable beyond measure. Even the weakest Dragon Rider was considered a grade 1 threat, while the strongest were elite, their mere presence a deterrent to any who would dare oppose the kingdom.

  The Headmaster’s musings were interrupted as the door behind him creaked open. One of the examiners entered, bowing respectfully. “Sir, we are ready to begin the next round.”

  The Headmaster nodded without turning. “Proceed.”

  “Yes, sir.” The examiner left, and the Headmaster remained still, watching as the arena below prepared for the next bout.

  “This next bout should be interesting,” he whispered, though whether to himself or the ghosts of the past, even he wasn’t sure.

  ---

  Meanwhile, Mark had managed to slip away unnoticed while Annabeth and Newt were still basking in the aftermath of the last fight. He found refuge in a quiet, empty classroom near the exam center. Alone with his thoughts, he stared at the chalkboard, tracing imaginary lines with his eyes, as if the answers to his unspoken questions might suddenly appear in the dust.

  But solitude never lasted long when Annabeth was determined. She found him quickly, her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway as she pushed open the door with a satisfied smirk. “You can run, but you’ll never be able to hide from me.”

  Mark glanced up, smiling faintly. “I wasn’t hiding. Just thought it would be better if we talked without an audience.” He motioned to the empty chair beside him, and Annabeth took a seat without hesitation.

  “Straight to business, then. What profession do you want to awaken as, and which unit are you planning to join?” Annabeth’s tone was light, but the undercurrent of concern was unmistakable.

  Mark sighed, leaning back as he met her gaze. “That’s two questions, and I promised to answer one. So, pick.”

  Annabeth rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation. “After all the stress you’ve put me through today, I deserve a bonus question.”

  “No,” Mark replied simply, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes.

  Annabeth groaned, her expression torn between frustration and amusement. “You’re impossible! Fine, fine. Why are you being so secretive about all this?”

  “That’s another question, Annabeth,” Mark pointed out, smirking as she huffed, clearly thwarted by his stubbornness.

  “Alright, alright,” Annabeth relented, finally settling on her question. “Which unit are you joining?”

  “Smart choice,” Mark said with a nod, pausing as if weighing his words. “I’m planning to join a scout unit owned by a private organization. The only thing that would change that is if I awaken as a Dragon Rider.”

  Annabeth’s smile faded, her brow furrowing in concern. “A scout? Of all the units, why that one? They have the highest mortality rate! What’s the point of all this training, all this effort, if you’re just going to join a unit no one in their right mind would choose?”

  Mark had anticipated her reaction but still winced at the intensity of her worry. “Scouts are the first to access Gates, the first to discover new lands, new threats, and

  new opportunities. If I’m going to find out what happened to my parents—what happened to both of our parents—I need to be a scout. I can’t do that from the sidelines.”

  Annabeth’s expression softened, but her anxiety was palpable. “I don’t want to lose you too. We could join any other unit—Intelligence, Espionage, anything that keeps us together and safe. Why take this unnecessary risk?”

  Mark reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. “You won’t lose me, Annabeth. I promise. Besides, you’re not joining the scouts. You’ll be in the Professional Compliance Unit (P.C.U.), working as my eyes and ears on the inside. It’s safer that way, and you’ll still be helping.”

  Annabeth bit her lip, torn between wanting to protect him and understanding his need for answers. “I wish you could let it go, Mark. But I know you can’t. I’ve seen you try.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Mark’s smile was sad but grateful. “Thanks for understanding, Annabeth. I don’t expect you to follow me into the dark. Just… be my light.”

  Annabeth nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as they sat in companionable silence, letting the unspoken words between them linger. The quiet was comforting, a rare moment of peace before the storm of the awakening.

  Their reprieve was short-lived as Newt burst into the room, breathless and excited. “Reyna’s match is up next! You guys need to see this!”

  Mark and Annabeth exchanged a quick glance before rising, their previous conversation momentarily set aside. Together, the three of them hurried back to the arena, just in time to catch Reyna as she prepared to descend into the arena, her expression calm and determined.

  They both wished her Goodluck with Mark giving her a thumbs up and a smile.

  ---

  Reyna Rivers stood at the top of the stairway, her heart pounding in her chest. The weight of expectation was heavy on her shoulders, but she wore it well, masking her nerves behind a composed exterior. She glanced up at the stands, her eyes locking onto the Headmaster’s gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

  The arena buzzed with anticipation, whispers of her potential had spread like wildfire. Unlike the others, Reyna’s path had diverged early. She hadn’t just focused on combat; she had delved into alternative studies, pursuing the art of mana seal, a discipline she hoped would help her solve her ordeal. It was a risk, a gamble that could either save her or spell her downfall.

  As Reyna stepped onto the arena floor, she felt the cool breeze on her skin and the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her opponent was already waiting, a formidable opponent with a reputation that preceded him. He was bigger, faster, and far more experienced in direct combat, but Reyna had something else—something that set her apart.

  She ran her fingers over the seal tags strapped to her waist, feeling the comforting texture of the intricate symbols she had spent years mastering. This was her moment to prove that her unorthodox path—the ancient art of seals—was more than just a gamble. She couldn’t afford to lose today, not when she was so close to her goal.

  Across the battlefield, John Colt stood with a stoic expression, his gaze fixed intently on Reyna. He cracked his knuckles, stretching his hands as small pulses of Mana flickered between his fingers. John’s power wasn’t flashy; he didn’t command special abilities derived from blood or wield powerful Mana. Instead, he relied on his ability to cast rapid Mana projectiles from his fingers, they were less powerful but significantly faster. It wasn’t a glamorous skill, but it was deadly in his hands, especially with his Mana reserves. John was a strategist, a patient predator who would wear his opponent down until they had nothing left.

  “John’s going to play it slow,” Mark observed from the stands, leaning forward as the match was about to begin. His eyes were sharp, tracking every movement. “He’ll keep his distance, wear her out with those projectiles, and then move in for the kill.”

  Newt nodded, sharing Mark’s keen focus. “Yeah, he doesn’t rush. That’s the Colt family way—high Mana reserves, average manipulation skills, but they’ve got those special tools to balance it out. As long as John keeps his distance, Reyna’s in for a tough fight.”

  “Special tools?’’ Mark Asked

  “Done worry you will see.”

  Annabeth, seated next to them, bit her lip nervously. “What does Reyna need to do? She’s fast, but she can’t dodge forever.”

  Mark grimaced, eyes never leaving the arena. “She has to get in close, break his rhythm, and end it fast. If John keeps this up, she won’t last.”

  The announcer’s voice rang out, signaling the start of the match. Reyna and John moved simultaneously, each stepping into their roles as the battle commenced. John’s expression remained stoic, but his eyes gleamed with a quiet intensity as he raised his hands, unleashing a barrage of Mana bullets that whizzed through the air.

  Reyna darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the first few shots. Each projectile left a faint trail of blue light in its wake, crackling with energy. She moved swiftly, weaving between the blasts, her movements graceful yet precise. Reyna countered by flicking a seal tag from her belt, slapping it onto the ground. The tag flared to life, creating a shimmering barrier that blocked John’s relentless assault. For a moment, she had breathing room.

  But John wasn’t done. He continued to fire, his projectiles pounding against the barrier with rhythmic precision. Each shot chipped away at the shield, cracks spreading rapidly across its surface. Reyna’s mind raced as she assessed her options. She needed to press forward, but John was relentless, each strike calculated and unyielding.

  “Typical John,” Mark muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. “He’s not giving her a moment to think.”

  Reyna knew she had to act quickly. She pulled out another tag, this one marked with a different set of runes. She activated it with a quick hand sign, and a surge of energy rippled outward, sending spikes of energy shooting toward John. He dodged effortlessly, his reflexes honed by countless hours of practice.

  John fired again, and this time, the bullets were aimed directly at Reyna’s feet, forcing her to leap back to avoid the explosive impacts. One blast caught her by surprise, grazing her leg and sending her stumbling. She hissed in pain as the Mana-infused projectile tore through her uniform, leaving a deep burn on her thigh. She gritted her teeth, refusing to let the pain slow her down.

  John’s expression remained stoic, but there was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. “You’re slowing down, Reyna. You can’t dodge forever.”

  Reyna pushed herself up, her breathing ragged as she forced herself back into motion. She threw another tag, and this one erupted into a flash of blinding light, briefly disorienting John. She used the momentary distraction to dash forward, closing the distance between them. But just as she was within striking range, John’s hand dipped into his storage space, and he pulled out his family’s prized tool: the Colt Revolver.

  Newt’s eyes widened as he recognized the weapon. “That’s bad. The Colt Revolver is a Mana weapon exclusive to John’s family. It amplifies his abilities tenfold.”

  Newt stated his gaze locked on the revolver. “Yeah, it’s designed to fire concentrated Mana bullets at incredible speed. He’s compensating for his lack of finesse with pure power. If Reyna’s not careful, this could end badly.”

  John held the revolver steady, his demeanor calm and unflinching. He aimed at Reyna, pouring his Mana into the weapon. With a loud crack, he fired. The first bullet shot forward faster than Reyna could react, striking her in the side. She gasped, stumbling as the impact sent shockwaves through her body. Blood seeped from the wound, staining her uniform a deep red, but she refused to fall.

  John’s expression didn’t change. He continued to fire, each shot a precise and calculated strike. The second bullet slammed into Reyna’s shoulder, spinning her around as she fought to stay upright. Pain shot through her arm, and she could feel the strength in her left side beginning to fade. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Reyna took hit after hit, struggling to find her footing.

  Annabeth clutched the railing in front of her, eyes wide with fear. “He’s tearing her apart! What can she do?”

  Mark’s jaw clenched, his mind racing with scenarios. “She’s running out of options. John’s got her locked down. If she doesn’t do something drastic, it’s over.”

  Reyna stumbled, her vision blurring as she tried to keep track of John’s movements. She couldn’t afford to let him win. She wouldn’t. The seal tags at her waist were dwindling, and her Mana reserves were running dangerously low, but she still had one trick left. She just needed time.

  John watched her with cold, calculating eyes. “You’re done, Reyna. Yield. Save yourself.”

  Reyna’s eyes flashed with defiance. “Not a chance.”

  She forced herself up, her body screaming in protest. Blood dripped from her wounds, and every breath sent a fresh wave of agony through her chest, but she couldn’t stop now. Not when she was so close. John aimed the revolver again, preparing to finish it. But as he squeezed the trigger, Reyna moved, diving behind one of the large trees on the battlefield.

  John scoffed, keeping the revolver trained on the tree. “You can’t hide from this,” he said coolly, firing a round that blasted through the thick trunk. Splinters flew as the bullet pierced through, barely missing Reyna as she rolled away. Another shot followed, this time striking her shoulder, tearing through muscle and sinew. She cried out, pain flaring hot and immediate, but she kept moving, refusing to stay still.

  From his vantage point, Mark’s heart pounded as he watched the desperate struggle. “She’s barely hanging on. He’s got her pinned down.”

  John stepped closer, revolver poised, each movement deliberate. “I’ve got more bullets, Reyna. How many more hits can you take?”

  Reyna’s hands moved rapidly, running through a series of seals as her Mana spiked aggressively. She focused, blocking out the pain and channeling everything she had left into her final gambit. From Mark’s position, he counted eighteen seals, each one more complex than the last. Newt tried to keep up, counting nine, but lost track as Reyna’s hands blurred in motion.

  John, oblivious to the intricate weaving of seals, continued his approach. He reloaded his revolver with a flick, the chambers glowing with fresh Mana as he prepared to end it. “It’s over.”

  But as he lined up his shot, Reyna’s eyes snapped open, her seals complete. She clasped her hands together, and the ground around John erupted. Massive, spiked chains shot out, wrapping around him in an instant. The chains tightened, forming a cage with razor-sharp tips pointed inward. John’s eyes widened as the spikes closed in, one chain piercing his left arm and drawing blood. He gritted his teeth, trying to raise the revolver, but the space was too tight.

  “What the—!” John shouted, his stoic fa?ade finally cracking as he realized he was trapped. He aimed at the chains, firing a Mana bullet directly at one of the links, but the shot fizzled against an invisible barrier. A translucent shield occupied the space between the chains, absorbing the impact and leaving John’s attacks useless.

  Reyna emerged from behind the tree, panting heavily, her body bruised and bloodied but still standing. She looked at John, who was struggling against the chains, the revolver clutched uselessly in his hand. “I told you, John,” she said, her voice steady despite the pain. “You can’t win

  John stared at her, his arm throbbing where the chain had pierced him. The revolver felt heavy, and the realization of his defeat weighed even more. He had underestimated her, not just her skills, but her resolve. Slowly, he lowered his weapon, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud.

  “I yield,” he said, his voice strained but firm.

  The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers echoing throughout the arena. Reyna stood tall, her chest heaving as she took in the moment. She had done it. She had proven that her unconventional path was not a weakness, but a strength that could turn the tide of any battle.

  Mark exhaled, relief washing over him as he watched Reyna’s victorious form. “She did it. She pulled it off.”

  Newt clapped Mark on the shoulder, a broad grin spreading across his face. “That’s Reyna for you. She always finds a way.”

  Annabeth, wiping tears from her eyes, laughed shakily. “I knew she wouldn’t let him beat her.”

  ----------

  Reyna walked back to her friends, every step a sharp reminder of the pain she had endured. But she held her head high, each footfall resonating with the stubborn resolve that had carried her through the final combat exercise for the senior year. She had fought today not just to win but to prove to herself that she could rise, no matter how hard she was pushed. As she reached the stands, she locked eyes with Mark, her closest ally in this endless battle, and nodded—a silent acknowledgment of the fight won and the countless ones yet to come.

  For Reyna, today was about more than just victory. It was about her relentless pursuit of a cure for the curse she was born with, a curse that had haunted every step of her life, a curse that she feared might one day kill her. But today, she’d fought back—she’d fought for control.

  Mark approached her, his eyes a mix of pride and concern. “We should get you to the medical bay; that was a rough fight.”

  Reyna smiled faintly, biting back the tears that threatened to spill. Relief washed over her like a wave, but she held it together, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll be fine. I used a sealing tag, one that’s supposed to heal minor injuries. I wanted to test it in a real scenario.” She glanced at Mark, noticing the doubt etched on his face.

  “Plus,” she added quickly, cutting off his inevitable protest, “this was my only shot to see how it works under combat conditions. If it doesn’t hold up, I need to know before we face anything worse.”

  Mark sighed, his frown deepening, but he nodded. “I see. Just... don’t push yourself too hard. We can’t afford to lose you.”

  Reyna felt a warmth spread in her chest at his words. She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the arrival of Newt and Annabeth, who looked relieved yet slightly annoyed.

  “You’re tougher than you look, Reyna. Maybe those alternate classes aren’t so bad after all,” Newt said with a grin that danced on the edge of a challenge.

  Annabeth elbowed him hard. “Newt, stop. She doesn’t need that right now.”

  “What? I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.” He shrugged, unbothered. Reyna couldn’t help but laugh. Despite his bluntness, Newt was often right; students from the alternative track, the “rejects,” as some liked to call them, weren’t expected to excel. But she had.

  Reyna always appreciated Newt’s ability to speak his mind, no matter the circumstance. She looked over at her classmates, the ones who sat at the fringes of the social order—the group that had, in many ways, become her sanctuary. She excused herself from Mark, Newt, and Annabeth and made her way over to them, feeling the pull of their camaraderie.

  As she approached their table, she was met with a chorus of cheers and congratulatory smiles. Mia and Jordan sat at the center, their faces lighting up when they saw her. Many of the others still hadn’t participated in the final exercise, but Reyna’s victory was their victory. She’d set a pace they could all be proud of.

  Mia, with her ever-present sketchbook and a streak of purple hair that she’d recently added, was doodling on her arm, creating swirling patterns that Reyna couldn’t help but admire. “Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Mia quipped, her voice dripping with mock drama. “Shouldn’t you be up on that pedestal with your primary squad?”

  Reyna smirked, sliding into the seat next to Mia. “I’d rather be down here with the real warriors. Plus, I need to keep an eye on Jordan to make sure he’s not slacking off.”

  Jordan, a tall boy with a perpetual grin and a love for mischief, flicked a coin into the air, catching it without looking. “Slacking? You wound me, Reyna. I’m just saving my energy for the big leagues. But seriously, you were incredible out there. You’ve got everyone buzzing.”

  Reyna chuckled, savoring the lightness that only Mia and Jordan could bring. “Thanks, but it’s not just about me. We all trained for this. I just hope you two are ready to follow through.”

  Mia set her marker down, her teasing demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. “Reyna, today wasn’t just a fight. You showed everyone that we’re not just some backup squad or a bunch of failures stuck in the ‘alternative’ track. You showed them we’re not to be ignored.”

  Jordan nodded, his usually playful eyes earnest. “You’re like, the symbol of why they shouldn’t write us off. You’re our badass poster girl, Reyna.”

  Reyna smiled, though she couldn’t fully banish the shadow that lurked behind her thoughts. The fight was over, but the curse that stalked her was never far. “Poster girl, huh? Sounds like a lot of responsibility. Honestly, I’d trade it if I could.”

  Mia reached over, her voice dropping to a whisper that only the three of them could hear. “You don’t have to be anything but yourself, Reyna. We’re here for you, no matter what. You’re not in this alone.”

  Reyna glanced at her friends, feeling the weight of their loyalty and their belief in her. It was hard to put into words what that meant. “Thanks, Mia. I won’t forget it.”

  Jordan, ever the one to break tension, clapped his hands together. “Alright, enough with the serious stuff. Let’s strategize over some fries. I’m thinking we use Mia’s artistic flair to distract the judges while I slip in some epic dodges.”

  Mia rolled her eyes, half-laughing. “Artistic flair? You mean my ‘overdramatic nonsense,’ right? Remember who’s saved your butt in every strategy session.”

  Jordan wagged his finger, a fry balanced on the tip. “It’s all part of the plan, Mia. You bring the drama, I bring the style, and Reyna brings the victory. It’s the ultimate power trio.”

  Reyna watched them, feeling a surge of affection. It was these silly, seemingly pointless moments that kept her fighting. They were more than her friends; they were the anchor that kept her grounded when the curse tried to pull her under.

  “Alright, enough clowning,” Reyna finally said, though her smile lingered. “We’ve got one last shot to make our mark before we graduate. Let’s make sure they never forget us.”

  Mia raised her soda cup high, her expression fierce and uncharacteristically hopeful. “To the underdogs who refuse to lose.”

  Jordan followed, his grin spreading wide. “To the underestimated.”

  Reyna lifted her own cup, feeling the weight of everything they’d been through together. “To the ones who fight back.”

  The three cups clinked together, the sound small yet powerful against the buzz of the cafeteria. Reyna felt a fleeting sense of peace—a rare calm that she clung to as tightly as she could. She knew the path ahead was uncertain, fraught with more battles, but right now, she wasn’t facing it alone. She had Mia, Jordan, and a fire in her that refused to be extinguished.

  They spent the rest of lunch strategizing in the way only they could—with laughter, teasing, and a stubborn refusal to give in to the doubt that plagued them. Each plan was more ridiculous than the last, but in those moments, it didn’t matter. They were united in their defiance of the roles they’d been assigned, determined to carve out a place for themselves that no one could take away.

  As the alarm clinked again, signaling the next fight would soon begin Reyna stood up, feeling the soreness in her muscles but also a renewed sense of purpose. She glanced back at Mia and Jordan, her unlikely comrades in a fight that was far from over.

  “Let’s show them what we are made of,” Reyna said, her voice laced with determination.

  Jordan slung his backpack over his shoulder, his smile confident. “Oh, we will. They won’t know what hit them.”

  Mia tucked her sketchbook under her arm, her eyes glinting with defiance. “Reyna, we’re not just following you—we’re right beside you. To the end.”

  Reyna nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude. She was battered, bruised, and cursed, but with friends like these, she felt invincible. Together, they walked out of the cafeteria, ready to take on whatever came next.

  Because no matter what happened, Reyna knew one thing for certain: she was not going to give up, she grab a little of her blood red hair in her palm and then clench her fist tightly.