Omen of a Bluebell

The next morning, I’m not woken gently.

“Wake up!”

Cari barges into my room, the door slamming against the wall with a bone-shaking clatter, and I instantly regret giving her permission to enter my room whenever she wants.

Thanks to Bella, we’d both learned that, though our dorm rooms seem mostly normal, the magical protections are just very well concealed. Several of them are designed to prevent unwelcome guests, including our fellow roommates.

Cari and I made it so that we could enter each other’s rooms with our ID’s. We even made it so Bella could as well, though she tried to refuse.

Cari’s rather persistent though. As I’m learning, again, first hand.

She leaps, loosing a war cry fit for the most impressive of final charges. She all but literally flies through the room, landing straight on top of me, squishing me deep into the mattress.

The super soft, super comfortable mattress that just helped me get the best night of sleep I’ve ever had. The mattress that is begging me to snuggle in and go right back to bed, Cari’s battle-cries be damned.

Despite my desire to ignore her, my breath is pushed out of me with a half-wheeze, half-grunt as she wages war against all that is good and right in the world.

My comforter is torn away mercilessly, the sheets quickly following. I moan in complaint, the cool air licking my skin and giving me goosebumps.

Then she kidnaps my pillow, and all hope is lost.

“Noooo,” I whine.

“Yeeees,” she mimics. “You have to get up. We have an hour at most before second bell, and I won’t be late because some sleepy fox refused to leave her burrow. Now, get up.”

She emphasizes the last two words by forcibly spinning me over and sitting me up. I know she’s right, but this bed is just too good. Instead, I take advantage of her current position, straddling my lap.

She’s warm, and I’m cold, and she made me this way.

I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her chest. She squawks with surprise, but I just pull her more snug against me, luxuriating in the warmth with a pleased sigh.

Then she’s twisting my ear, her trademark nail-daggers digging painful furrows into the soft fur with expert precision.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

“Get. Up!”

With one final twist, I release her, tilting to the side to relieve the pressure on my poor ear.

My gaze locks onto our silent observer. Bella stands by the open door, already dressed and as composed as ever, steaming tea cup in hand.

“…Do you do this every morning?” she asks politely.

I feel the heat crawling up my neck and quickly check to make sure I’m decent.

Shocker of shockers, I’m not.

My shirt is riding a bit higher from the roughhousing, exposing a not-so-healthy-for-my-heart amount of underboob, and my face turns molten. Bella notices, her own cheeks turning a deep shade of pink, but she at least has the decency to look away.

I swiftly kick them both out then, mercilessly abusing my stats to all but literally toss Cari out the door. She takes it with all the grace of an angry cat, but I don’t care. I need to wake up and cool off, and I can’t do either with her breathing down my neck.

It takes me less than ten minutes to get ready after that.

Most of that time is spent in the bathroom, splashing cool water on my face to calm down and simultaneously scrubbing away the last traces of sleep. I can hear Cari hovering outside my door like an anxious dog, pacing back and forth.

I also know for a fact that she’s making her footfalls deliberately loud to remind me of the passage of time.

I swap my bed clothes with my uniform from storage and have to actually put on the boots, as I hadn’t seen a reason to last night.

Then I’m opening the door, still tugging my hair into something vaguely presentable. Cari immediately steps in and takes over, her fingers racing through my hair with practiced ease before braiding it tightly.

Bella is already waiting on us when we step fully into the living area, calm and immaculate in a way that’s downright unfair.

Did she even really get flustered? Probably not. Gods, what I wouldn’t do for that much control…

Exiting, we fall in with a flow of students almost immediately. At first, it’s just dozens. Each and every woman streaming from various dorm rooms and filling more and more of each and every available space as we make our way to the platforms.

It quickly becomes hundreds.

By the time we’re on the platform, there’s easily three or four hundred women bustling about, each and every one a student. Some are obviously first years like ourselves, but others seem far too calm and relaxed to be new here.

Are they going too?

Then we arrive at the arena, just a few extra bodies in a river of students.

The space is massive.

It’s not a single ring or pit, but a sprawling field of stone platforms, each one broad enough to give a proper duel room to breathe. Each has runes carved deep into every surface, layered so densely that they glow faintly even in the morning light.

They aren’t identical, either.

Some platforms are raised high above the stone floor, others sunken slightly below it. Some are perfectly smooth and flat, while others house full environments—patches of forest contained within invisible barriers, twisting stone corridors like miniature labyrinths, broken terrain littered with pillars and cover.

A few look very… unpleasant.

One is just a massive pool of water, with no land to be seen. I pray that I don’t have to deal with that one.

Still, each is enclosed in a barrier dome with a number floating above it, ranging from one all the way up to one hundred. They hum faintly, the active magic flaring and filling the space with a steady buzz.

In front of it all stands a dense line of Academy faculty, directing students with an efficiency I can only admire. Voices carry cleanly despite the scale of the space, instructions crisp and practiced.

Most of the calm students pour into the stands surrounding the arena, rather than seeking instruction from the staff.

Oh… they came to watch.

That realization lands with a weight I hadn’t been ready for. The stands are already filling, hundreds of students settling in, leaning over railings and craning for a better view of the platforms below.

By the time we’re face to face with the faculty, I’m certain the number of spectators has gone into the thousands.

A faculty member with sharp eyes and an even sharper voice stops us with a raised hand.

“Your Student ID’s, please,” he commands, palm up.

One by one, we present them.

“Cari Ward, group four. Emilia Ken, group four. Arabella von Bysm, group four,” he says, handing our ID’s back in turn. “Proceed to the marked staging area.”

He indicates a swiftly growing group of students, massive ethereal number four floating above their heads and spinning slowly, casting a light blue glow over its charges.

I hadn’t even noticed the groupings being set up, but now that I have, I realize there are twelve in total.

Cari bounces on her heels as we move, eyes darting everywhere at once. Bella remains composed, but even she’s scanning the platforms with open curiosity.

Another faculty member intercepts us just before we reach the waiting area, a small wave of mana washing over us as they do.

“Emilia Ken, please remove the ring for the duration of the exams. If you do not have an available storage device, please place it on the tray,” he says, indicating a small tray in his hands. “It will be returned to you once the duels have concluded.”

I spare Bella a glance, and she gives me a grateful look before nodding.

I store the ring.

“Thank you. Please know you may not remove anything from your storage under any circumstances during the exams. Doing so will result in negative marks on your performance, and depending on the intent, may even lead to disciplinary action.”

I nod, then he turns to Bella, mouth already open to speak. Before he can, she holds her hand up and the ring vanishes into storage, much like mine did. He nods, then speaks again anyways.

“Please ensure you have your allocated arcanite shards out of storage now, as you will not be permitted to withdraw them from storage later.

She inclines her head and opens a small pouch on her waist that I hadn’t even seen, revealing the dull blue gleam of arcanite. The instructor seems satisfied at that and waves us through.

As we wait, my eyes wander despite myself. I never was one for people watching, but with such an eclectic mix of people, I can’t help but be curious.

Each and every race is represented here today. Beastkin, Human, Elf, Dwarf. Countless members of each scamper about to their designated areas, each seeming just as nervous as I feel.

It offers a measure of comfort to know that I’m not the only one feeling that way.

Eventually, once nearly every student has been assigned to a group, I find that we’re all set into a semicircle around one central point, with the faculty now making up the other half of the circle.

Suddenly, in the center, the air folds in on itself, the mana surging sharply and spreading outward in a slow, rippling wave. In a blink, two figures appear with flashes of light.

The Headmaster and the Headmistress.

The second bell chooses that moment to ring, and I look around to find the source of it. Coming in, I didn’t see a single bell tower aside from at the dormitory, and even now, nothing stands out.

The sound comes from everywhere and nowhere, clear and reverberating. It slowly dies down, the echo of its arrival fading into the sky, and Headmaster Kophis speaks.

He doesn’t raise his voice, but his voice still carries effortlessly.

“Aspiring students of the Academy,” he says, his voice calm and absolute. “Today marks the beginning of your Entrance Exams. The first of which is a series of one-on-one duels.”

He pauses, allowing everyone's attention to settle. The crowds of students awaiting the exams ripple with excitement and unease in equal measure.

“I will make one thing very clear: You are not here to win.”

The murmurs die almost instantly, and even I’m confused at the statement.

Wait, what…? Isn’t the whole point of a duel to win?

“You are not here to impress your peers, nor to prove your superiority. You are here to demonstrate skill. Talent. Competence.”

He gestures outward, indicating the vast field of platforms. “Each platform has been prepared to simulate a controlled combat environment. The runic arrays beneath your feet will suppress lethal force and intervene if a participant’s life is placed at risk.”

Even from this distance, I can see his gaze sharpen, turning the air itself heavy with intent.

“If they are activated because you lack the self control necessary to avoid killing your opponent, your score will suffer.”

A few students shift uncomfortably.

“You will face opponents selected according to tier and level disparity, with the intent of maintaining fairness wherever possible. This is not always achievable,” he continues, giving us all a faint, unapologetic shrug. “In the real world, it rarely is.”

He lets his words sit for a moment before continuing.

“You will be observed. Each duel will be overseen by no fewer than two members of Academy faculty, and healers are on standby. However, do not forget that you are not being scored based on victory or defeat.”

He lifts one finger.

“We are evaluating your judgment.”

A second finger.

“Your control.”

A third.

“Your adaptability, and,” he adds, his voice lowering just slightly, “your ability to recognize when a fight is over.”

I shiver at that.

Do I need to worry about Fae Ferocity?

I give it a moment's thought, and decide that it won’t be an issue. I still have my wits mostly about me while it's active, even if my emotions rule my decisions in the moment. I can stop myself from going too far if it comes to it.

“You may surrender. You may be rendered unconscious. You may be injured. These are acceptable outcomes. What is not acceptable is treating this examination as an excuse for cruelty.”

The Headmistress steps forward then, her voice drawing our attention.

“Any deliberate attempt to cripple or kill another examinee,” she says coolly, “will result in immediate termination of the examination for all involved, followed by disciplinary proceedings. We possess healers capable of restoring great harm. That does not grant you license to inflict it.”

She smiles faintly, as if daring us to test her, then steps back.

The Headmaster resumes without missing a beat, his voice turning almost monotone, as if reciting a speech he’d practiced a thousand times.

“You will be assigned to batches. From each batch, two students will be called at a time. When your name is spoken, proceed to the indicated platform. Do not delay. Do not argue. Do not attempt to renegotiate your match-up.”

He straightens slightly, a staff materializing in his hands, its haft tapping lightly against the air, as if it were solid. The sound of it reverberates through the entire space before magic circles bloom around the entire arena, encasing the whole space in his magic.

“The second bell has rung,” he says. “The platforms are active.”

His eyes gleam a faint green as he slowly scans each group. Then he speaks one word.

“Begin.”

There’s another warping and a flash of light, and both he and the Headmistress are nowhere to be seen.