The morning after her breakthrough, Elya returned to the training hall, but this time, she was not alone. The space was alive with the murmurs of apprentices preparing for their lessons, their voices blending with the crackling of distant elemental spells. The air was thick with heat, sweat, and the ever-present scent of burnt wood where past mistakes had left their mark on the stone floors. The shifting light from overhead lanterns caught in the dust motes floating in the air, adding a strange shimmer to the heavy atmosphere.

  Elya took her place near the edge of the hall, her fingers curling at her sides as she tried to quiet the excitement still pulsing through her veins. Her heart still raced with the memory of her success, the rush of magic bending to her will in a way she had never imagined possible. She had done something incredible, something no one else had even thought to attempt. And yet, standing among her peers, the weight of reality pressed down on her. If she revealed what she had discovered, would they even believe her? Would Aldric scoff, dismissing it as another mistake? Would the other apprentices see her as a fraud rather than a pioneer?

  She could not tell them. Not yet. She had to understand it more, to refine it, to prove to herself first that it had not been a fluke. Only then would she risk sharing it with the world.

  Aldric entered, his presence commanding the room into silence. His expression was as cold and unreadable as ever, a mask of strict discipline that made even the strongest apprentices stand taller in his presence. He swept his gaze over the room with a calculating air, acknowledging the stronger apprentices with curt nods of approval, his sharp eyes lingering on those who had proven themselves. But when his gaze fell on Elya, it was fleeting, dismissive, as though she were nothing more than an afterthought. It was as if her very presence in the hall was an inconvenience, a blemish on the otherwise disciplined ranks of students under his instruction.

  The lesson began with elemental control drills. Fire, water, air, and earth weaved through the air as the apprentices shaped their magic into precise forms. Aldric moved through the ranks, correcting stances, adjusting hand positions, reinforcing his expectations with short, clipped words. When he passed Elya, he barely paused, no correction, no acknowledgment, as if she were invisible.

  She tensed under his indifference, her heart pounding as she waited for the inevitable criticism. But he said nothing, merely glancing at her half-hearted attempt at conjuring fire before moving on. It would have been easier if he had chastised her, if he had barked orders in that sharp, unyielding tone. But this, this dismissal, was worse. It was as if he had already decided she was beyond help, not worth his time.

  Her fingers clenched, nails digging into her palm. He had seen what she could do the night before. Hadn’t he? Or had he ignored it, dismissing it as another fluke, another desperate grasp at something beyond her reach? Doubt gnawed at her resolve, threatening to suffocate the fragile embers of triumph she had kindled in the solitude of her training.

  "Again."

  She obeyed, but the fire she conjured flickered weakly before vanishing, unable to sustain itself. She gritted her teeth, trying again, but it was no better. She could hear the whispers of the others, could feel their silent judgments. Frustration clawed at her. She had found a way to reshape magic itself, yet she still couldn’t do something as basic as hold a flame.

  Aldric turned on her with a sudden, deliberate movement, his eyes narrowing as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience he could no longer ignore. His voice lashed out like a whip, cold and cutting, honed with the weight of final judgment.

  "This is a waste of time." Aldric exhaled sharply through his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line of disapproval. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, bore into her like a weight she could not shake, heavy with a disappointment that had long since hardened into something colder. He shifted his stance, arms crossing over his chest in a gesture of finality, his fingers tapping against his forearm as if restraining his frustration. "Elya, if you are to remain here, you must prove you deserve it." His voice, though not raised, carried an edge that cut through the murmuring crowd like a blade. The air around him seemed heavier, charged with unspoken expectations, as if daring her to rise or crumble beneath it.

  A murmur rippled through the room, low and shifting like the rustling of dry leaves in the wind. Whispers slithered between apprentices, some muffled behind cupped hands, others spoken with cruel clarity. She caught fragments, words of pity, doubt, scorn. "She’s done for." "Why does she even try?" "This is embarrassing." And worst of all, the laughter, quiet chuckles from the ones who thrived on watching others fall, their amusement slicing through her like a blade.

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  Aldric gestured sharply toward the center of the hall, his expression carved from stone. "Duel Lina. Now." His tone left no room for argument, no hesitation. This was not a challenge, it was a command, an ultimatum. The weight of his judgment hung in the air, pressing down on Elya with an almost suffocating force, as if her very presence here needed to be justified in blood and sweat.

  Elya’s stomach dropped, a sickening weight pulling her insides downward as if the floor beneath her had vanished. A cold numbness crept through her limbs, her fingers trembling slightly at her sides. The world around her seemed to distort, the murmurs of the apprentices blending into an overwhelming buzz, a cacophony of whispers and hushed judgments that wrapped around her like chains. Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, too fast, too loud, drowning out rational thought.

  She had known this moment would come, had feared it with every failed spell, every sidelong glance Aldric had cast her way. And yet, standing there, hearing his command, she felt as though something vital had been ripped from her—her confidence, her control, her very place in this hall. The air pressed down on her, suffocating in its weight, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

  Lina was everything she was not. Strong, confident, effortlessly powerful. Where Elya struggled, Lina excelled. The duel would not be a test, it would be a demonstration.

  The apprentices hastily stepped back, forming a wide ring around the dueling area, their excitement mingled with an instinct for self-preservation. Standing too close to two mages in combat was foolish, even for those who relished the spectacle. As they retreated, their murmurs grew louder, a mix of intrigue and expectation.

  Elya stepped forward, her legs stiff, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. The space between her and Lina felt vast, an expanse that might as well have been insurmountable. Across from her, Lina stood poised, unshaken, her expression unreadable, as if she already knew how this would end. And so did Elya. This wasn’t a test, it was a formality, a lesson for everyone else at her expense. There was no escape.

  "Begin," Aldric commanded.

  Lina moved the instant the word left his lips. A flick of her wrist sent a searing arc of light streaking toward Elya, its intensity dazzling. Elya barely raised a barrier before the force of the attack slammed into her, sending her stumbling back. Pain shot up her arms as her shield shattered, leaving her open.

  Lina advanced. Another strike, precise and controlled, cutting through the air with lethal efficiency. Elya scrambled to reinforce her defenses, trying to layer constructs as she had done the night before, but the energy slipped through her fingers like water. Every attempt to counter drained her faster, each failure widening the gulf between them.

  Another hit landed, then another. Each impact felt like a hammer driving into her bones, forcing out what little strength she had left. Elya’s body screamed in protest, her muscles burning, her limbs sluggish and unresponsive. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each one shallower than the last. The weight of exhaustion crushed down on her, pressing her closer and closer to the cold, unyielding floor.

  She tried, gods, she tried, to summon another defense, to call upon the last remnants of her strength, but her magic was gone, drained beyond recovery. A sharp, searing pain lanced through her side as Lina’s final strike connected, a decisive blow that sent her sprawling. The world tilted, blurred at the edges, the torches overhead dimming into distant pinpricks of light.

  As she lay there, the cold stone beneath her cheek a cruel contrast to the heat of her battered body, she felt the last vestiges of resistance slip away. This wasn’t just defeat, it was obliteration, the undeniable proof of her failure. And she could do nothing but let the darkness close in.

  Silence settled over the hall.

  Elya pressed her palms against the cold stone, willing her trembling arms to lift her, but her body refused to obey. Every muscle ached, her limbs feeling as though they were made of lead, weighed down by exhaustion and defeat. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each inhale laced with the sharp sting of failure. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth where she had bitten her lip, a cruel reminder that she was still conscious enough to feel pain.

  Around her, the world continued without her. The murmurs of the watching apprentices felt distant, distorted, their voices blurring together into an indistinct hum of judgment. The cold against her skin seeped deeper, its unforgiving touch chilling her to the bone, as though the very hall itself was rejecting her presence. She wanted to move, to rise, to prove, to someone, anyone, that she could stand, that she could still fight. But her body had nothing left to give, and the realization hit her harder than any of Lina’s spells.

  Tears pricked at her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. She would not cry, not here, not in front of them. And yet, as her hands curled into fists against the unyielding stone, she felt something breaking inside her, something fragile and precious that she had fought so hard to protect. Her last scrap of belief that she belonged here.

  Aldric’s voice cut through the quiet. "You do not belong here."

  The words struck deeper than any blow. They were not spoken in anger but in certainty, in finality. "There is no place for weakness in magic," he continued. "Consider another path. One where you are not destined to fail."

  The silence deepened, pressing in on her from all sides, wrapping around her like a vice. She had known this moment was coming, had dreaded it with every fiber of her being, but that didn’t make it any easier. The weight of his words settled like stones in her chest, each syllable another piece of her crumbling resolve. It was not just failure, it was erasure, as if her efforts, her struggles, her very existence in this place had been deemed meaningless. The last remnants of hope she had clung to, so fragile, so desperately nurtured, withered under the cold certainty of his judgment, leaving behind only a hollow ache where defiance had once flickered.