You ever feel like you're being paraded out not because you're a student, but because you’re a well-dressed threat management exercise in boots?

  Yeah, that was us—Squad 7.

  Except today wasn’t just any exercise.

  Today was the Team Battle Tournament. The one where our whole school—and half the continent, apparently—decided to show up, buy greasy food, and pce bets on whether or not we’d cause property damage.

  The opening ceremony was short and sweet. Some old guy talked about honor, camaraderie, noble competition, and bh-bh-something about legacy. I was too distracted by the fact that our squad was matched to face Dresner’s in the finals—assuming we could even get there.

  Which meant one thing:

  We’d have to win every. Single. Match.

  “Nothing like the crushing weight of national expectations,” I muttered as I adjusted my jacket.

  “Focus,” Eli said, checking her bde’s edge like she was pnning to duel Death.

  Rielle stretched her arms. “This is going to be fun.”

  Gram handed me a potion with something glowing inside it. “For moral support.”

  “I think that’s a hallucination brew, Gram.”

  “Exactly. You’ll believe you already won.”

  The Bracket of DoomThe tournament was id out cleanly. Three days. Four rounds. Top 4 squads get an audience with the royal family. The winner? Well…

  My dear father had pulled me aside that morning like he was handing out casual trauma.

  “If you beat Dresner’s team,” Kael had said, “I’ll commission the finest wandmaker in Wellstion to craft your personal weapon.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like a bribe,” I’d said.

  “That’s because it is. Win.”

  Love you too, Dad.

  Dresner & Ingrid: The Final Bosses Demo VersionBefore we even stepped into the ring, we got a lovely front-row seat to watch Dresner and Ingrid’s squad steamroll through their first match like it was target practice.

  Teamwork? Impeccable.

  Strategy? Unnervingly rehearsed.

  Dresner acted as the hammer, Ingrid as the holy storm behind him, and their two backup members—one archer, one barrier mage—were like precision tools that anticipated every move.

  Their opponent tried everything. Traps, stealth attacks, multi-elemental assaults.

  Didn’t matter.

  Dresner walked straight through a wall of fme like it was a warm breeze and delivered a strike that cratered the ground. Ingrid followed with a divine spell that sent a shockwave of light across the battlefield, stunning two enemy members mid-dash.

  “So,” I whispered, “they’re what happens when a religious festival and a military campaign have a baby.”

  “They’re efficient,” Eli muttered.

  “They’re terrifying,” I corrected.

  Rielle was grinning. “I want to fight them.”

  Of course you do, battle-goblin.

  Our TurnOur first match? A squad called Ashcliff Shadows. Stealth types. Fast movers. Trap specialists.

  Too bad they didn’t account for us.

  Match began.

  Rielle unched herself forward like a missile.

  Eli vanished from sight. When she reappeared, she was behind their rear-line mage and whispered, “Boo,” before sending him flying with a single strike.

  Gram threw potions mid-battle like a barista slinging drinks during rush hour—except his ttes exploded.

  And me?

  “Ember,” I said calmly, “let’s try the new one.”

  She coiled beside me, and with a low hiss, she evolved her fme again—her body briefly glowing with the runes from that cursed book. Her fire bent unnaturally, hungering.

  “Lucien Wyrhart has deployed his summon,” one of the announcers said. “Wait... is that snake breathing in the enemy’s fire spell—?”

  “Yes,” I said cheerfully. “We do not waste energy in this household.”

  Our enemies surrendered in under three minutes.

  The crowd?

  Silent for a beat.

  Then: thunderous appuse and a few panicked cheers.

  The Crowd Starts to NoticeApparently we were no longer underdogs.

  We were becoming something else.

  Maybe it was Gram cackling as his test brew detonated midair.

  Maybe it was Rielle screaming, “WOO!” every time she cshed swords with someone mid-spin like a maniacal dancer.

  Maybe it was the fact that Ember started mimicking my sarcastic tone through hisses, which made the announcers start calling her “the most expressive summon in Wellstion history.”

  Whatever the reason—eyes were turning.

  “We’re not just students anymore,” I said under my breath. “We’re a sideshow attraction.”

  “You sound like you’re not enjoying it,” Eli said, straight-faced, even though I caught the corner of her mouth twitching.

  End of Day One: Victory, Pressure, Wand BribesWe won our first two matches. The crowd loved it.

  Dresner and Ingrid won theirs, of course.

  Now everyone was whispering about the inevitable final csh.

  Teachers talked. Nobles bet. Vendors started selling Squad 7-themed snacks—yes, that’s real. I found a stand selling something called “Lucien’s Burned Sarcasm Bites.”

  And Kael?

  He sent me a letter.

  It read: Win. The wandmaker has already been informed. He’s designing the core slot.

  No pressure.

  Just a magical artifact I’ll probably die using if I screw it up.

  Awesome.

  The Night Before FinalsWe gathered under the stars that night, in the training yard behind the dorms.

  Rielle was sharpening her sword.

  Eli was meditating. Possibly astrally projecting. I’m not sure.

  Gram was trying to recreate the taste of arena popcorn through potion crafting.

  And me?

  I looked at Ember. “You ready?”

  She slithered up my arm and rested on my shoulder, breathing small embers into the wind.

  “Guess we’re not just kids anymore,” I whispered.

  “We were never just kids,” Rielle said from across the yard. “We’re Squad 7.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “The academy’s prettiest monsters.”