ELDMOOR

Origins of Blaze
Book 1
J.P. Feather
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 Copyright 2024 by J.P. Feather
Eldmoor - Origins of Blaze : Book 1
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Editor: Ceara
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Trigger warning
Death
Blood
Attempt to rape
Child's death
War
Gun threats
Violence
Exploitation
Operation
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 This is war.
Monarchy, corruption, deadly games, and darkness.
They are real enemies, adrenaline and risk. A one-
way ticket, dragons, and instinct.
Are you ready?
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Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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 PROLOGUE
The day humanity’s existence hung in the balance...
The day dragons became predators...
The day my life became marked with blood...
19 years ago
A loud roar had me shooting out of bed. My gaze darted to the window,
beyond which the night moon was blotted out by black shadows flying
across the sky and the city burning in white flames.
“Clara, we have to go now!” My bedroom door crashed open to reveal
my mother, her face pale.
I tore my gaze away from the window and hugged my knees. My body
refused to move as fear occupied every cell. “Where are we going?”
“Our house is destroyed. We can’t stay here.” My mother’s trembling
voice echoed in the room.
“Daddy—we have to wait for him.”
He usually arrived home around this time, holding an old brown suitcase
in his arms, wearing a long coat and a hat covering his hair. He always
smiled and said a gentle hello to Mum and then hugged me tightly and
kissed the top of my head.
“We’ll meet Dad on the way.” Mum took my hand, grabbing the teddy
bear Dad gave me for my seventh birthday from the bed with the other.
As I crossed the threshold of my bedroom, my gaze caught on a deep
laceration on my mother’s shoulder. “Mom, does it hurt?”
Mom didn’t answer at first. We reached the ground floor of the house,
but there wasn’t much left of it. The windows had been blown out, and one
of the walls had turned to rubble. Bitter smoke billowed in, and I coughed
as it singed my lungs.
With a few deft movements, my mother pulled on my jacket, putting on
her own shoes and outdoor clothes. Then she squatted down to my level and
smiled. “It’s all right, dear. It’s just a scratch.”
Outside, the first sound that reached my ears was the screams. People
rushed past, panic clear on their faces in the light from the burning homes
around us. Walking fast became running. I clutched my mother’s hand; the
smoke made it hard to tell which direction we were going. Gunshots, the
explosion of grenades, the roar and crackle of fire, and the devastation from
the earthquake all mixed together in total chaos. My gaze rested on the
bloody and burnt bodies of children. Mothers wailing, kneeling, and
praying to God. Grown men full of anxiety, confusion, and fear and those
who bravely walked toward the middle of the turmoil, ready to fight.
“Clara, hurry up and don’t look around.” My mother’s uneven voice and
breathing betrayed the strain on her body.
“Mom, where’s Dad? I’m scared.”
Mum didn’t answer, just hurried on through the narrow streets, trying to
stay away from the center of the commotion. There was a long street ahead,
and I could see people running in different directions through the smoke.
The wind picked up, and my mother stopped abruptly. I peered around her
to see a huge dark dragon flapping its mighty wings and flying low. Its
spiky tail destroyed the roofs of nearby houses and fire spewed from its
mouth, powerful and terrifying.
We waited for the beast to fly past, then my mother took my hand firmly
again and we hurried on. My legs froze at the sound of a familiar voice just
before we plunged into another narrow street away from the crowds.
“Clara! Larissa!” Dad’s voice was barely audible amidst the screams and
gunshots.
I let go of my mother’s hand and ran with all my strength toward Dad.
Mum’s voice came from behind me, but I didn’t listen. Salty tears streaked
down my cheeks as two strong arms hugged me tightly. This was all I
needed—my hero, my wall, and my shelter.
“Evan, darling, are you all right? What happened?” My mother reached
us and studied my father’s shredded clothes with worried eyes.
“Just a little accident at work. It’s time for us to get out of here. We’ll
reach the outskirts of the city and then head south to the nearest town.” Dad
took Mum’s hand and put his other free hand on my shoulder, pressing me
gently against his side as he stepped forward.
The unpleasant sounds and sights became quieter as we reached the main
street leading out of Lumera. My heart felt as if it were full of lead as I
looked over my shoulder. My childhood home had been left to burn, to
suffer, to perish.
A gust of wind buffeted me, so strong that my legs couldn’t stand and
my dad’s hand slipped out of mine. I landed on my back, my head
slamming against the hard ground. My mother quickly kneeled beside me
and helped me stand up. Gunshots rang out all around me, but I could only
focus on one thing—a large white dragon with impressive white horns, a
large scaly chest like a shield, and claws that made huge holes in the road at
the slightest touch. White glowing eyes were fixed on the only person in the
vicinity.
“Dad!” I screamed.
I pushed off the ground to run forward, but my mother’s hand stopped
me. The shots kept coming, one after the other, but the bullets fell to the
ground without causing any damage. Dad stood ten meters away, staring at
the dragon as if he were fearless. Mum dragged me away by the arm. The
shots stopped, and between the crackling of burning tongues of fire and the
distant screams, my hearing picked up the sound of solid footsteps
approaching from the opposite direction.
“Mrs. and Miss Merkin, right? Come with us and we will ensure your
safety.” The man’s low, slightly husky voice sounded confident.
“No. Dad—I’m not leaving Dad.” I yanked against my mother’s grip
again, but she held firm.
“Don’t worry, girl. We’ll take care of everything. Your daddy will join
you soon.” The man’s voice was gentle.
Looking into his dark green eyes that matched his uniform, I wanted to
believe him. I wanted to believe that everything would be all right.
The man’s gaze moved past me, turning stern. “Move these people to a
safe place.” When he looked back, he addressed my mother. “These soldiers
will take care of you and examine the little girl’s concussion.”
“No, please! I can’t do it without my dad.” My voice was hoarse from
screaming. “Dad, don’t leave me!”
I dug my feet into the ground, resisting my mother, resisting the soldiers.
Through my tears, the image of my father blurred. I couldn’t go without
him. Nobody could separate us. I didn’t trust strangers, but Dad would keep
us safe. I wouldn’t leave him.
The dragon flapped its wings hard, slowly walking toward Dad, its
glowing white eyes fixed on him. Every step he took made the ground
tremble, and I could feel the hot breath coming from his jaws even standing
so far away.
“Warriors! Prepare!” The general raised his hand in command.
“Clara, we have to get out of here,” Mom said urgently. “The soldiers
will deal with the dragon. Let’s go, dear.”
 Dad looked up, but the expression on his face was unreadable. He simply
nodded once, confirmation for us to go. My little heart felt that this was
goodbye, but my confused mind could not understand the reason.
“Is it so easy...?”
The dragon stepped forward, baring its jaws. The order to open fire left
the general’s lips, and bullets fell all around. I lost consciousness shortly
thereafter, but the last image I saw would be burned into my mind forever.
The white dragon devoured my father in a single bite.

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 CHAPTER ONE
CLARA
“In those eyes, memories shine - not anger.”

“Clara, get up. You’ll sleep through work.” Olin’s insistent voice came
from the other side of the door.
With my eyes still closed, I climbed out of bed and slipped into my
stained work uniform. Sneaking past my sleeping mother, I opened the door
and squinted at my best friend.
Olin’s blue eyes examined me under his bushy brows. He leaned against
the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest.
“I really don’t need your morning sermons on punishment and broken
rules,” I said sleepily, braiding my waist-length brown hair into a long
cassock as I followed him down the hall.
It was early, but humidity was already thick in the air. Eldmoor was full
of everything—livestock, agriculture, and small factories. The lowest floor,
where we lived, was where the dirtiest, filthiest, and most physically
demanding work was done. Every day was the same as the day before.
Work, lunch, work, dinner, and then a few free hours before bed. Anyone
who wanted to have their own food, bedrooms, and a few clothes had to
give up their physical strength to supply the city’s upper floors. The lower
floor consisted of five hundred inhabitants, bedrooms with one or two beds,
a huge dining hall, common bathrooms for men and women, and a meeting
room which was usually locked.
“Have you forgotten there is a meeting today?” Olin pushed open the
heavy metal door leading to the agricultural sector. The ventilator blew
warm air on us as we crossed the threshold. The ceiling of the room was
half-circular, the huge lamps emitting heat to provide the right climate for
the plants to grow. A huge walkway in the middle branched off into
different paths depending on the vegetables, fruits, berries, trees, or shrubs
being grown.
“Of course I haven’t forgotten, Olin. Everyone can’t stop talking about
it.”
 “Do you think this will be the list of participants in the Ascension
Games?” Olin nodded his head in greeting to our boss as we passed.
“Don’t expect to survive on the surface for more than ten minutes,” the
chief groused. “Your arms and legs are much more useful here. Up there,
you’d be a dragon’s snack. Now get to work.”
Shovels in hand, a huge area of land, and a body ready to work. Hands
covered with calluses, sturdy legs, and one furrow after another. All the
work in the lowest sectors of the city was done by hand. Olin’s words
echoed in my head while beads of sweat gathered on my forehead. The
Ascension Games were the only chance to rise above, to win a huge amount
of money and escape from this cruel slavery. Every six months, participants
were chosen to take part in the bloody games on the surface of the earth,
traveling enormous distances and battling each other. That was all the first
and second floors let us know. Participants who left this floor never
returned; they either rose higher or their corpses remained on the surface.
“It’s a death race,” I said a while later. “And it’s very difficult to be
chosen. They usually choose the youngest. The ones who won’t have a
chance to survive.”
“I know, but I don’t want to stay on this floor forever, slaving away for
those above us.” Olin stuck the shovel in the ground, putting his foot down
but not going any farther.
Deciding to rest for a few minutes, I followed his example even though I
knew it was forbidden. Our floor had strict rules: no being late for work, no
walking late in the corridors, no staying in other people’s bedrooms, and no
trying to get to other floors by force. If these rules weren’t observed after
three warnings, the person was removed from the floor and never returned.
“It’s just a small chance, Olin. Nothing guarantees fame and fortune. It
sounds like a giant scam. Those at the top are just having fun, and we’re
just chess pieces to be pushed around according to their wishes.”
“You can’t know that.” Olin sighed. “So many of the inhabitants of this
floor have been elected in the past nineteen years. Perhaps they live much
better now. A chance, however small, gives more hope than the thought of
having to work in this hell for the rest of my life.”
“A dreamer as always.”
Olin smiled broadly. “As always, a realist.”
We laughed, but quickly stifled it when the boss yelled at us to get back
to work. Olin and I had been best friends since the first time I was brought
to Eldmoor. He often understood me even when I only said half a word. He
was an interesting conversationalist with very deep thoughts and the only
one who undermined authority and stood up for me.
As a child, I didn’t realize what kind of place I was living in, but it
became clearer as the years went by. Every glance in my direction, every
hurtful word spoken, I kept asking myself why. The talk, the lies, and the
propaganda spread by those above was that the war with the dragons was
the fault of the Merkins name. My mother’s surname. It had created
extremely difficult circumstances in our lives. My mother and I had only
each other, and we knew it was all untrue, though no one believed us.
Lazarus stood at the top of the city, respected by all and radiating
confidence, always reminding us of his good deeds. Thanks to him, the
people of Eldmoor had a place to live. Thanks to him, people still existed.
What nonsense.
The time passed incredibly quickly, and although we didn’t even reach
half the field with our shovels, the lamps were bright enough to indicate
midday. They were dim in the morning and evening and didn’t shine at
night, the only indicator of time in this underground portion of the city.
“All lower Eldmoor residents, please go straight to the meeting room,” a
woman’s voice announced over the loudspeaker.
“Ah, a well-earned rest.” Olin smiled broadly.
The uneven dirt road led to the main walkway, where the throng of
people were heading toward the exit and then the meeting room. A few
disapproving glances were sent in my direction, which I had learned to
ignore over the years. They blamed me for the death of their friends and
family on the surface, for the fact that they have to work hard here for bad
food, for their bad mood when they got out of bed in the morning, for every
little thing that made their thoughts turn dark.
The bright open door leading to the meeting room was completely
different from the usual colors, furniture, and atmosphere on this floor.
Long white benches were arranged in rows beside cream-colored walls, and
crystal chandeliers shone overhead. Even the smell of the room was unique,
reminiscent of freshness, mint, and lemon. Hundreds of people took their
seats until the hall was completely full. All eyes were on one side of the
wall where a high glass balcony was dedicated to Lazarus. A buzz
permeated the air as everyone speculated what the theme of the meeting
would be—a new menu, a few days without electricity, shorter working
hours, new rules? A million topics, a million possibilities to choose from.
“Hello, Eldmoor residents.” Lazarus’s rich, low voice filled the room.
“Today is a special day as I will announce the names of the thirty-second
Ascension players from this floor. This is a unique opportunity to improve
your life and stop worrying about the future.”
Applause and cheers went up all around. People were eager to hear the
names of the four lucky people who would get a ticket to a better life. Of
course, they would have to survive a deadly struggle in order to succeed.
Lazarus was resplendent in luxury, with a short black beard, dark hair
with a few gray strands, and a blue suit. Two guards stood at his side, even
though no one could reach him at that height. He smiled at the crowd below
him. “Are you ready to get your ticket to a better tomorrow?”
The crowd roared again, everyone eager to have success and money in
their pocket. Some secretly prepared by training at night, improving their
physical fitness and having one-on-one duels in their rooms, all while
hiding from the cameras and security guards.
Lazarus pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket, his calm gaze
shifting to the white sheet in his hand. “First participant... Cecily Fielder.”
People began to applaud while the yellow-haired girl walked toward the
exit of the meeting room with her head held high. In the doorway, she
stopped as a cry rose above the applause. An elderly woman ran toward her
daughter, pressing her tightly to her chest, and they were soon joined by
Cecily’s probably ten-year-old sister.
“Be careful, dear. Please come back to me.” Cecily’s mother’s voice was
filled with pain.
This door was usually the last place where relatives saw their family
members before they walked toward the Games.
Cecily could barely hold back her tears and hugged her mother tightly,
finally letting her out of her embrace after several minutes. “Don’t worry,
Mom. I’ll come back and get you. We’ll have a much better life.” She then
kneeled, hugging her sister tightly and whispered something in her ear.
The whole scene tore my heart into a million pieces, but I kept my
expression neutral. It did not escape my notice that Cecily was much older
than the usual candidates, probably twenty-five in appearance. The
candidates elected six months ago had been much younger. What had made
Lazarus pick an older woman? Was it her past? Orphans and those without
family seemed to be elected more often. Maybe it was easier when you
didn’t have to worry about the ones who stayed behind. You didn’t have to
see the crying parents, the worried eyes, and the painful goodbyes.
Cecily stepped through the door, down the corridor toward the special
door with the guards. They would escort her into the unknown. Perhaps to a
better future.
Lazarus’s voice sounded again from above us. “The second participant is
Olin Melton.”
My heart dropped to the ground. My gaze went to Olin, who was already
looking at me, smiling broadly and holding out his hands.
My voice was quiet as I said, “Don’t you dare die, Olin.”
“Ahh, do I see tears?” he asked mockingly. “Has Clara’s heart become
soft?”
“This is no time for jokes, you madman.” I hugged Olin tightly, and he
clapped me on the back several times as if trying to calm me down. He had
nothing in this city. His parents had died just after the war started. I was the
only one close to him, his only support.
Two of Olin’s strong hands rested on my shoulders while his stern gaze
fixed on me. “Let’s not be sentimental, Clara. I will come back and pull you
out of this hole. Then you will see that I was right. That there is a chance.”
The thought that Olin might not come back, that so many years of
friendship might just disappear, was like a stone pressing against my chest.
But he was strong—a man who could stand up for himself. Intelligent.
Perceptive. He wouldn’t let himself die.
“Be careful, Olin,” I said firmly.
He smiled. “See you soon, Clara.”
Olin’s broad shoulders soon disappeared behind the door, and Lazarus’s
voice made me tear my gaze away from my departed friend. My mind was
spinning. Would he be all right? I stared blankly at the wall, overwhelmed
by the hurricane of thoughts, drowning in my anxiety and doubt.
Strange noises came from all around me—not happy shouts, more like
murmurs, voices full of discontent. Two strong arms embraced me; only
then did I come back to where I was. My mother hugged me tightly and
held me close to her.
“Clara, darling, you have to be strong.” My mother’s teary eyes looked
straight at me, her voice trembling.
“What?” I blinked at her. “What are you talking about?”
 After listening to my surroundings, I realized what it meant. I had been
so shocked at Olin’s participation in the Games that I didn’t hear Lazarus
say my name. All these indignant and negative shouts; they hoped I
wouldn’t come back, that I would atone for my guilt as a bearer of the
Merkins name. As if this was my punishment.
I hugged my mother tightly, ignoring everyone around me. This moment
was probably like a nightmare in my mother’s mind. Maybe it reminded her
of my father’s death, of the dragon that had swallowed him whole, and now
she was worried the same fate awaited me.
“It’s all right, Mom,” I said. “I left some cash under the mattress. You
should have enough for a few weeks. You can stay off work and protect
your health. I’ll be fine, and Olin will be there too.”
I had to be strong and unwavering. That way my mother’s heart wouldn’t
ache. This was how I wanted her to remember me—determined, fearless,
and with a smile.
With a slight movement, Mom slipped something into my pocket, then
cupped my face in her hands. My breathing increased, and tears began to
gather in my eyes as she kissed my forehead. “I’ll be waiting for you,
Clara.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Mom let go of my face with trembling hands and took a step to the side.
Head held high, I walked through the door, leaving behind an outraged
crowd, ugly shouts, and a heartbroken mother.
I barely breathed as I reached a metal door with a lock, two soldiers
standing guard beside it.
“Clara Merkins?” one of the guards asked, looking at the sheet in his
hands.
“Yes.”
“Straight down the corridor, then turn left,” the second guard said as he
opened the door.
I stepped forward, down a long dark corridor whose walls glowed with
dim lamps. It was so silent that I could hear my heart pounding in my chest.
Footsteps echoed around me—one, two, three—and a single thought echoed
in my head.
I would find the dragon that killed my father and take my revenge.

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 CHAPTER TWO
CLARA
“The desire for power stains the purest of hearts.”

I squinted against the light and stood still until my eyes adjusted. When
my vision cleared, I forced my expression to remain calm even as the view
in front of me threatened to make my jaw drop. A circular room with white
columns reaching to a high ceiling. Silver marble tiles underfoot led to the
main table where thirty unfamiliar faces sat, and only one friendly one. A
cold white light fell over the table, creating a twilight around it and
focusing attention on the people in the room. Two arched doors led to
different parts of the room, not counting the one behind me.
The atmosphere was filled with tension and fear as I moved toward an
empty chair. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on me. My name was probably
hated even on this floor. I saw a few familiar faces, the ones who had been
selected half a year ago. I felt better knowing they were alive, but their eyes
portrayed something cold, merciless, empty.
I quickly made calculations as I reached the soft surface of the chair.
Thirty-two participants, four Games, eight teams—some experienced,
others first-timers.
“Merkins,” a sweet female voice said, rising above the rest. “I hoped you
realize that your days are numbered on this floor.”
My gaze drifted to the woman with fiery hair that didn’t reach her
shoulders. Her dark brown eyes blazed, and her clothes indicated she
belonged to the middle or top floor. I leveled a calm glare in her direction.
“You should learn some simple etiquette before you threaten someone.
You’re barking loudly while sitting at the other end of the table.”
“You won’t even be able to reach— “
“Silence,” a deep voice boomed.
Footsteps approached, and everyone’s attention moved away from me,
toward the man who had entered through the archway on the left. The first
thing that caught my eye was his dark brown eyes and his medium-length
white beard and hair. His broad shoulders betrayed a muscular and well-
trained body highlighted by a tight uniform. The man’s face revealed his
age, but physical appearance could deceive at first glance. This man was
probably in his forties.
The stranger took a few steps toward the wall, drawing everyone’s gaze.
“You can slit each other’s throats later. Let’s get down to business. I will list
eight people in turn who will go to the left. You will be met at the end of the
corridor by guards who will show you the way forward depending on your
wing. Is everyone clear?”
“Yes,” almost all the participants answered in one voice.
“For those who are seeing me for the first time, I am one of two trainers.
You can call me Xavier. Some participants will train with me and others
will be assigned elsewhere. The first eight participants to hear their names
can stand and leave the room. Bianor Elson, Olin Melton, Erasmus Howell,
Mervin Shelton, Cole Porter, Cecily Fielder, Morgana Duler, and Clara
Merkins.”
One by one, the participants stood and walked toward the designated
corridor. Lights on the walls illuminated the white walls stretching forward.
At the crossroads stood a guard in uniform who, with a wave of his hand,
indicated for those listed by Coach Xavier to turn to the right.
At the end of the corridor, we were greeted by another empty room with
a ceiling held up by columns in disarray. Everyone lined up in a row, not
daring to take a step forward because of an unfamiliar man standing in an
orderly posture. Our coach, if I had to guess. A tight black uniform,
medium-length brown hair matching his eyes, and square glasses. His intent
gaze traveled over each participant, pausing for a moment on each of us as
if trying to gauge our physical skills.
“Welcome to the first stage of preparation for the Ascension Games. I’m
Roger Garrison and I’ll be your personal trainer, helping you to get
physically stronger, learn how to fight with your weapons, and introducing
you to the world and the mission that awaits you on the surface. To your
right is a corridor leading to the bedrooms, mess hall, and lounge. The
corridor on the left leads to the different training rooms and the surface
room. Now, everybody, go get ready. In exactly fifteen minutes, we will
meet in the training rooms.”
One by one, we stepped forward. Our surroundings glowed with luxury,
and a white path led to another wide, short corridor ahead. There were
exactly eight black doors lining the wall with the names of the participants
written on them.
I found my name and paused to look at Olin, whose door was right in
front of me, before I moved on. The determination on my best friend’s face
was enough to convince me that the day would not be so difficult.
A red light came on as I entered the room. I had never seen anything like
it. Was this how those on the second floor lived? There was a single bed
with soft white sheets and a red lamp shining above it. A black carpet
underfoot led straight to the bed. On the right side, there was a stand and a
hook on the wall where black uniforms hung. Another archway led to the
bathroom where a huge bathtub, its edges glowing red, made the walls look
just as impressive. A private bathroom that I didn’t have to share. I couldn’t
believe it.
The clock on the nightstand started ticking loudly in reverse, and so
began the fifteen minutes we had to get ready and get to the training room. I
performed a quick hygiene ritual, braiding my damp hair from top to
bottom, ensuring that all the strands would stay in place during the workout.
I dressed in the underwear I had been given and grabbed my uniform. The
leather trousers had several pockets, packed knees, and a special holster on
the left side. They were snug but comfortable and fit perfectly against my
skin. A simple black shirt had a zip at the neck and several thinner material
areas at the chest and waist. The last item was a leather jacket with white
zipped pockets at the sleeves, shoulders, and elbows.
The clock started ticking louder, blinking to show there were only three
minutes left. I opened the door wide and jogged down the corridor toward
the training room. I almost bumped into the red-haired girl who had
threatened me in the meeting room.
A strong hand grabbed my arm, slowing me down, and I looked up at
Olin. “When you’re not on your floor, it’s hard to be sure how long it will
take to get from one point to the next. I won’t risk it.”
Olin kept pace with me as I began jogging again. We passed a few guys
we didn’t know, walking quickly through the assembly hall toward the
corridor leading to the training rooms. We were the first to reach the end of
the three-branch corridor where Roger stood. The coach’s gaze drifted to
the glittering watch on his wrist as the others gathered behind Olin and me.
A beep rang out, and Roger looked up to count the participants.
 Hurried footsteps sounded behind us. The owner of the short yellow hair
sprinted into view. “Coach Roger, sorry for the delay.”
“Bianor, the rules are the same for everyone,” Roger said coldly. “Go
back to your room. You will meet with the head coach to decide the
punishment.”
Bianor blanched. “No, coach. Please.”
“Get out of here. Now.”
Bianor turned on his heel, dragging his feet, and trudged in the opposite
direction. He clearly wasn’t a first-time Ascension Games participant, so he
knew the rules and probably knew the head trainer, who no one had
mentioned yet.
My attention returned to Coach Roger, whose face was stern. “We have
rules here that you must strictly follow. First of all, after eleven o’clock,
you must all be in your rooms without exception. Second, direct assault,
fighting, taunting, and any other negative actions outside the training room
will not be tolerated. Third, you may not leave the left training wing for two
weeks until your training is over. Each infraction will be evaluated and
punishment will be given by the head coach. Is everyone clear?”
“Yes, coach,” we all answered in one voice.
“Great. Now, behind me, there are three training rooms that will help
you become physically strong in one-on-one combat and psychologically
strong in preparation for survival on the surface. The first room is for
building physical endurance—weights, punching bags, a boxing ring, and
treadmills. It is a room for muscle warm-up and growth. The second room
is designed for endurance training, with tasks ranging from climbing a wall
to stepping on individual beams to ensure balance. The third room, which is
locked until you get your fighting gear, is a one-on-one training arena.”
Roger led the way into the middle corridor. It opened onto the obstacle
training room. It was enormous for eight participants, but it was probably
for the best that each of us didn’t cross paths. Tires lay in a single line while
others hung in the air for climbing. A wall on the far side was spattered with
protruding stones and a ladder led almost to the ceiling, with rings for
grasping and swinging from one to another. A net was suspended at the
bottom to rectangular columns of distinctive size for jumping. Each path
had a different course that would require not only physical preparation but
also strategy.
“Any questions?” Coach Roger asked.
 This made me tear my eyes away from the obstacle course and focus on
him. The only question going through my mind was how we would fight
against the dragons. Physical strength wouldn’t be enough to fight against a
monster three times our size that breathed fire.
“Physical strength training will be useful against members of the
opposing team on the battlefield, but how are we going to fight against
dragons?” Cecily asked.
“Now the newbies will lose their brains,” the redhead said with a quiet
giggle.
“Morgana, if you’re so smart and confident, why don’t you explain
magic to the newcomers?” Roger snapped.
Morgana tensed; her lips pressed into a single line as she stared at her
boots. “No, thank you, Coach Roger.”
“Winning one game or living one floor above does not make you
superior to the others,” Coach Roger said. “Lose your ego and swagger,
because these newcomers will be your teammates. If you can’t work
together, they’ll think twice about extending a helping hand to you when
the action is brewing up there.”
Deafening silence fell, and none of the newcomers or older participants
dared say another word. Everyone seemed docile now while the coach was
standing in front, but everything would change the second Roger was out of
sight; then the true character traits and behavioral qualities of each
participant would emerge.
“Continuing with Cecily’s question about how you will fight against the
dragons, the city of Eldmoor is endowed with three types of magic that
choose their host. Yes, you heard that right—magic is the weapon we use
against dragons. It’s the only thing that can hurt them. The source of magic?
You don’t need to know that, so I wouldn’t advise you to pry about it. It’s
one of the rules.”
“Magic?” Olin asked, brow wrinkling with disbelief. “I thought it would
be guns, grenades, and Molotov cocktails.”
Olin’s mind had to be a mess at the moment. He was clearly trying to
read Coach Roger’s words, the expression on his face, and the tone of his
voice to see if his words were true. But I knew the weapons of the army
wouldn’t help in this fight. I had seen with my own eyes that bullets had no
power and did no damage against dragons. But magic? That wasn’t real. It
sounded illogical and incomprehensible.
 “We have tried a lot of different weapons in this war, but explosives and
guns don’t do the slightest damage to the dragon’s hard scales.” Coach
Roger shook his head. “Three types of magic are embedded in each sword
hilt—fire, shadow, and twilight.”
In one graceful movement, Roger’s hand came down to the scabbard at
his hip. He gripped the hilt and took a step back, withdrawing it. Nothing
happened—there was no magic, no blade. Cecily giggled, and the corner of
my lips lifted at the thought of calling Roger a madman.
Then Roger pulled the hilt forward, pointing it to the side, and with his
other hand he grabbed the missing blade from the beginning of the sword
hilt. The steady stroke of Roger’s hand in a straight line made the unusually
shaped sword glow before my eyes. The hilt shone bright silver, and a
strange symbol was decorated with jewels. The upper line of the sword was
rough, and the blade gleamed as if it would cut you if you looked at it
wrong.
I blinked a few times, trying to wake myself up, my eyes refusing to
understand what I was seeing.
“This is Twilight’s magic. The shape of each sword is different; the
magic chooses its shape according to the owner’s character, traits, and
interior. You’ll learn corresponding gestures suitable for attack and self-
defense. Any questions, newcomers?” Roger’s gaze lingered on Cecily,
Olin, and me. The corner of his lips turned up.
“Do you allow these swords outside the training room?” I asked.
“Yes, but they cannot be used outside.” Roger’s gaze lingered on me. “If
you lose your sword, you lose your ability to survive on the surface. Magic
chooses only once; one master for all time.”
“Don’t you think that’s dangerous?” Olin asked. “Not all participants
follow the rules.”
Roger’s friendly expression dropped, replaced by an icy mask. The
trainer returned his sword to its scabbard, which instantly dissipated like
smoke, leaving only the hilt. “If you can’t survive the training and the
pressure around you, what do you think your chances are on the surface?”
Roger’s gaze grew darker. “Every participant is well aware that the magic
sword is only to be used inside the training rooms and its use outside is
punishable. No one around here wants to meet the head trainer, so I’d
advise you to stop worrying about participants using the sword outside the
designated area.”
 “Is magic divided into stronger and weaker? Is fire magic stronger than
shadow magic?” Cecily asked.
“No. All magic is powerful and special in its own way. It is not ranked
according to strength, but according to rarity in the following order: fire is
the most common, twilight is more rare, and shadow is the rarest of all. If
there are no more questions, let’s move on to which magic will choose
you.” Roger turned on his heel and strode across the training field toward
the dark door.
He opened the door to a light, cream-colored room, on the walls of
which were handles of all sizes, shapes, and colors, illuminated as if in a
museum. I counted nine handles at a glance.
“Each sword hilt has a different type of magic, as you already know.
There are nine handles, differing in size, weight, and color. Which one
appeals to you more? That is your choice as a person. Who wants to go
first?” Roger turned to us and scanned the three newcomers. “Clara?”
“Yes,” I answered, though I didn’t have a choice. To contradict the coach
would be rude and stupid. There was a rustle behind me, which was
silenced instantly as my gaze slid over my shoulder. Surely everyone
wanted to know what a Merkins’ magic would be. The family who had been
responsible for starting the war and the near extinction of the human race.
What if the magic didn’t choose me?
Ignoring the intrusive thought, I stepped forward, stopping at the sword
hilts. I looked closely at each shape, the color, the metal it was made of, and
the ornaments and details.
“Trust your inner voice,” Roger said encouragingly from behind me.
“It’s not wrong.”
I closed my eyes. A deep sigh left my lips, and something seemed to stir
inside me. When I opened my eyes, my gaze focused on one particular
handle. For some reason, the handle seemed to be distinctive, with a spiky
metal bulge at the end. The handle itself was not made of metal but of
wood.
I took it off the shelf and turned my gaze toward Roger.
“Now, it’s time to see if the magic has chosen you. Choose a gesture to
summon the magic and do it.”
I extended the hilt of the sword to the side, putting two fingers to
beginning. A steady motion, and…
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 CHAPTER THREE
CLARA
“Every action has a rebound.”

The sword’s blade began to glow white, both the upper blade and the
cutting edge wavy, uneven, as if burning. The color raised questions in my
mind, but they were soon calmed by the memory of a crimson dragon
spitting white fire. Yes, my magic had to be fire.
“Greetings, Clara,” Roger‘s joyful voice boomed from behind me. The
coach started clapping his hands, soon followed by the others. I had no idea
if it was politeness, awe, or genuine joy.
In one movement, only this time from the point of the sword to the hilt, I
ran two fingers across and the fire disappeared in an instant. The sword’s
hilt fit perfectly in a sheath attached to my belt. I returned to my position,
meeting a few disappointed looks and Olin’s eyes full of pride.
As the trainer had mentioned, magic was not divided into weak and
strong. It all depended on the owner of the magic, so to be disappointed that
shadow magic or twilight magic hadn’t chosen me was meaningless.
After me, Cecily was chosen by twilight magic and then Olin became the
owner of the same magic as mine.
“It’s getting late,” Roger said. “You can all go back to your rooms, the
lounge, or the mess hall. Serious training will only begin when I am
satisfied that you are physically fit. Until then, you will train on your own,
for which you have two rooms. If you need me, you will find me in the
main meeting room.” Roger left with a quick step.
One by one, the participants went off in their own directions. I walked
slowly down the bright corridor past the meeting hall toward the bedrooms.
“This is illogical. Stupid,” Olin said as we walked. “Magic? Why can’t
we know its origin?”
“It’s none of our business—not now,” I responded. “First, we have to get
stronger and win the Ascension Games. Only then, when we’re standing
firm, can we try to find out more.”
 “I hate to admit it, but you’re right.” Olin rolled his eyes. “Let’s go look
around; maybe we’ll make some friends.”
We passed the bedrooms and walked through an archway at the end of
the hall. A short corridor branched off in two directions with the dining
room written above one and the lounge above the other.
Friends... That sounded strange, especially when all the participants were
probably thinking about how they could kill each other.
My feet froze as Olin turned toward the corridor leading to the lounge. “I
think you’re better off traveling alone. You’ve seen perfectly well that my
name is known even on this floor, so it won’t help you to make new
connections and have a nice conversation.”
“Is Clara Merkins afraid of new people?” Olin said in mock-surprise, his
gaze drifting over his shoulder to rest on me.
I shook my head. Of course having such a best friend was nothing to be
afraid of. Olin was taller than me, lean but athletic because of the physical
work we did every day. Small beard, broad shoulders, brown eyes, and
freckled face. Other women probably saw him as attractive, but I still
remembered him as the little boy from our first meeting.
The sound of water gurgling mingled with the murmurs coming from
ahead. The lounge was spectacular. One of the walls had water running
down into a raised groove that stretched around the room. Huge white sofas
with cushions were placed on the far side by the waterfall. On one of them
sat Morgana and an unmistakable guy with dark hair. The walls were dark
green, the floor white, and the wall lights just bright enough to give the
room a twilight glow.
There was a pool table with cue sticks hanging on the wall and several
white leather armchairs in the corners. A few dart targets sat on the wall
along with a small foosball table on the left. The only vacant seat at the
back of the room was on a different sofa than the one Morgana was sitting
on, but there sat a man, Bianor, who had been thrown out of the first
training lecture this morning.
Olin sat down, taking a closer seat to Bianor even though he was sitting
on a different couch. I settled down next to Olin, feeling strong and
confident—not because he was my best friend and used to protecting me,
but because I didn’t see a single threat in the room. I stole a glance toward
Bianor, the sides of his head shaved with the longer hair tied into a long
cassock. His long beard and brown eyes were pointed toward the wall of
water.
Then he turned and our gazes met. I did not lower my eyes, not wanting
to appear weak.
“Clara Merkins, right?” Bianor asked in his rich voice.
“Olin Melton,” Olin said, looking intently at Bianor and holding out his
hand.
Bianor’s brows rose. „Are you her bodyguard or something?”
“No,” I replied. “He’s a close friend of mine.”
“There’s talk of you even on this floor.” Bianor’s attention returned to
me.
Little tricks, posture, body language, hand gestures, facial emotions,
every little detail could give away so much about a person and their quirks.
I had to thank Olin for such a great lesson in human perception; after all, his
parents were psychologists.
“I could tell at the main table in the meeting room that the gossip about
me is far from pleasant.”
“It’s just silly talk. Whoever is responsible for this kind of blackening of
individuals really knows nothing about dragons.”
“You don’t believe the rumors that my father caused the war?”
In all my nineteen years, I had only met one person who believed what I
said, and that was Olin. It was strange to see a person living on the upper
floor of Eldmoor who didn’t believe the lies and propaganda.
“The inhabitants of the top floor of Eldmoor spread gossip, dictate the
rules, and organize the games. Only the most foolish and brainless believe a
word they say,” Bianor said derisively. “One cannot condemn a man for
hearing only one part of the story. Only animals driven by the herd instinct
do that.”
Few in the city would follow their minds and not be blinded by the
opportunity to rise above, the temptation of easy work, the lies, and the
money.
“My father was not to blame for the war that broke out between dragons
and mankind, though I’m not sure if those words mean anything to you. He
was killed by one of the white fire dragons right before my eyes. For years,
I have not known the cause. I haven’t been able to rise above it, but now
things are changing.”
 “One man in the field is no warrior. You can’t just sneak around and try
to gather information. You’ll have a target on your back and eventually
disappear from the list of residents.” Curiosity lit Bianor’s eyes. “You think
the answer lies in Eldmoor? The reason why the dragons decided to attack
cities and kill people so suddenly?”
“Only those who sit at the top can know the whole truth—or rather, the
founder of this city, Lazarus,” Olin said. “Isn’t it strange that he had the
whole system of city life prepared underground while the dragons were still
at peace?”
These topics had been covered a hundred times, a million questions
whose answers we still didn’t have. The years spent living on the lowest
floor of Eldmoor, understanding the system around us, it was strange that
we were the only survivors, strange that the entire city was built
underground.
“I think it’s just a coincidence,” Bianor said. “The dragons were never
hostile, but people living next to such huge creatures felt like prey. Maybe
this city just proves that people still had a sense of fear and wanted to be
prepared for anything.”
Bianor’s hand caught my attention. He was not wearing part of his
uniform, a black leather jacket, just a special black T-shirt. Bright red lines
like scars stretched across his shoulder, some larger, some smaller, reaching
to the elbow on the outer part of his arm.
Bianor followed my gaze. “Curious where these wounds came from?”
He ran his fingers over his shoulder. “This is the punishment I received this
morning for being late for the meeting. I have no idea how you were
punished on your floor, but I wouldn’t advise breaking the rules on this
one.”
“Your punishment is this wound?” Olin demanded. “That is cruel and
barbaric.”
“These are just a few wounds. On our floor, people disappear for
breaking the rules,” I said quietly. “But still, it’s disgusting how one person
can inflict such pain on another just because of his status and the rules
around him.”
“There’s no warning here; only direct punishment. It seems that those
with higher titles and access to information do not want the people around
them and newcomers to snoop around, be late, or be too close to others. It is
as if they are trying to keep society divided. That’s why I would advise you
to stick to the rules. It’s not really pleasant to meet the head coach.” A few
lines etched themselves into Bianor’s forehead and something strange
sparkled in his eyes.
“Why is he called head coach?” Olin asked. “He doesn’t seem to be in
charge of training—only punishment, from what I’ve heard from Roger.”
“He does train, but only with worthy people. But trust me, you don’t
want to be one of his students. The talk floating around about his methods,
the extremely cruel rules during training, the discipline, the fighting
methods... They all scream that it’s better to run away. But it’s not your
choice; it’s his.” Bianor’s gaze returned to a brighter color, as if he had
come back from a memory. “Well, we’ll see each other another time. It’s
bedtime for me.” Bianor got up from the sofa and walked toward the exit
without a backward glance.
“Well, that was an informative conversation.” Olin smiled broadly as he
relaxed and made himself more comfortable on the sofa.
Olin had remained tense during our exchange, and though Bianor’s
appearance seemed dangerous, a little sinister and masculine, his character
seemed much softer than his appearance.
“We’re lucky he isn’t one of the individuals believing the lies going
around, “I stated calmly.
“Bianor seems to have both brains and muscles.” Olin laughed out loud.
A yawn escaped my lips. It was hard to imagine when it was so dark
around and the light didn’t set the time of day. My gaze drifted to the clock,
which I hadn’t noticed before; it read half past eleven. Time for bed. After
seeing Bianor’s injuries, I wasn’t eager to break the rules.
I got up from the sofa, and Olin followed me to the exit.
“What time do we start training tomorrow?” he asked.
“There are no set times in the rules,” I answered. “It’s our own decision.
Whoever gets up first will wake up the other and then we will go to the gym
to strengthen our bodies.
We wished each other a good night before returning to our rooms. A red
light met my eyes. I took off my uniform, then gathered my dirty clothes
from the bathroom floor. A metallic clatter sounded as I walked toward the
sleeping quarters, and I glanced down. A strangely shaped pendant lay on
the ground. I put my old clothes in the corner and crawled under the soft
covers of the bed, holding the pendant in my hands. It had been my
mother’s gift to me before I walked through the door and said goodbye to
her. A silver circle with three petals in the middle, as if forming an
unfinished flower. In the middle of each petal was a beautiful stone. It was
lovely. I fastened it around my neck and tucked it under my shirt. This gift
would help me to move forward, a reminder in difficult moments that
someone was waiting for me.
Later, I woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare I couldn’t remember.
A strange feeling passed over me, like I was being watched. I took a quick
cold shower to clean myself up and put on my uniform and heavy boots.
Before stepping through the door, my gaze went to the clock, which read
five in the morning. Deciding to let Olin get some more sleep, I walked
down the dimly lit corridor toward the training room. It was quiet; everyone
was probably still asleep, but if I wanted to survive these Games, I had to be
physically ready.
In the training hall, I was greeted by dark yellow walls, a boxing ring,
treadmills, benches, racks of weights, and punching bags. After doing some
stretching exercises, I headed to the treadmill. I wasn’t sure what distances
we would have to cover in the Games, but my legs couldn’t let me down. I
lost track of time, drops of sweat gathering little by little on my forehead.
The hall behind me started to fill, but I paid no attention.
The stability at my feet suddenly disappeared, sending me straight to the
floor of the treadmill. Unbearable pain flared in my nose, and tears
immediately welled in my eyes. I gritted my teeth and rolled over on my
back, covering my nose with my hands. Something warm and sticky oozed
over my fingers. Blood.
“What a loser, to fall on the treadmill.” Morgana’s mocking voice rang
out, and then her face appeared above mine. “I’ll make this place a living
hell for you,” she whispered.
“Good morning. I thought I’d see how many of you are showing effort in
your preparations.” Roger’s voice sounded at the entrance. “What happened
to you, Merkins?”
“She just fell; a rookie mistake.” Morgana smiled broadly, extending a
hand.
“No, it wasn’t.” I ignored her hand and pushed myself off the treadmill’s
floor.
“Yeah, it was just an accident.” Bianor’s hand landed on my shoulder,
his body wedged between mine and Morgana’s, preventing me from
finishing my sentence.
 Roger soon walked away, once again scanning everyone in the training
room. I shot Bianor a furious look and stomped out of the training room,
covering my nose to stop the bleeding. That incident had happened in front
of everyone. What was Morgana’s position on this floor?
I staggered toward the bedroom and wiped my face, my nose swollen,
small bruises already visible under my eyes. Then I headed straight for the
canteen– metal tray, steaming hot food, and large tables with chairs. Olin
was already having breakfast there, and he gave me a strange look when I
joined him at his table.
„What happened to you? You look tragic. Why didn‘t you wake me up?“
The lines on Olin‘s forehead grew deeper with every word.
„Fucking morning, Olin. Did you know that you could be attacked
during training and all the witnesses would just stay silent when the coach
asked what happened? This floor really makes me sick inside. That bitch.” I
put a large piece of food in my mouth, head bowed.
The canteen filled up with participants, and a queue formed as they
waited for the food to arrive in trays. Morgana was the last one standing,
her red hair seeming to glow. The sight of her infuriated me, and I grabbed
my tray, starting toward her.
“Clara, don’t do anything stupid,” Olin called after me.
I ignored his words, knowing what I had to do. Everyone here was acting
like savages, unpunished, and I had to keep my feet firmly on the ground. I
couldn’t fall or look weak; otherwise, I would become a victim among all
these predators.
“Morgana.”
Morgana’s gaze rolled over her shoulder toward me. At that moment, the
metal tray rolled full force into her face, causing her to take a few steps
backward, trip over a chair, and fall over the table.
She stared up at me, outrage clear on her face, and then she flashed a
bloody smile. “You made the biggest mistake.” Her gaze flicked over my
shoulder.
“Clara Merkins,” Roger’s indignant voice said from behind me. “For
breaking the rules, you are being taken to the head coach’s office. Come
with me; I’ll escort you.”

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 CHAPTER FOUR
CLARA
“Being special in your world was stupid.”

Turning on my heel, I walked straight toward Roger, who stood in the

doorway of the dining hall. I glanced at Olin, who looked equal parts
worried and proud. Roger’s crossed arms and expression showed
dissatisfaction with my behavior, but I couldn’t change it, and even if I
could—I wouldn’t.
I followed Roger down the corridor toward the bedrooms and past the
meeting room, where another corridor led back to where the first meeting of
all members had been held. Only the echo of our footsteps broke the tense
silence. We reached another corridor and Roger knocked on the first door
on the left. A moment later, the door opened slowly.
“Desmond, I’ve brought you another rule-breaker,” Roger said calmly.
He didn’t step through the open door, instead nodding for me to proceed.
I could see nothing in the doorway except black. I squared my shoulders
and stepped through, allowing the darkness to envelop me. Only after a few
seconds of the door closing did my eyes adjust to the dim light around me.
The dark brown floor, the candles burning on the oak table, the dark brown
walls, and...
Before my gaze landed on the unfamiliar figure, a tremendous force hit
me, and the next moment I felt a solid wall against my back. My hands
were tied at the top, my head spinning from the impact.
Eventually, my gaze landed on a man ensconced in a leather armchair, a
cigar in his hand. Thick smoke smelling of citrus and wood escaped from
his lips. Desmond. Now I knew what the coach everyone was afraid of
looked like, although it was hard to see his face in the shadows. White hair,
black eyes with dancing amethyst flames, a huge scar from one eyebrow to
the middle of his cheek that zig-zagged like a lightning strike, broad
shoulders, and an outfit unlike any other.
“The famous Clara Merkins.” Desmond extinguished his cigar, rising
from the armchair and slowly walking toward me. “The woman responsible
for the extinction of humans and the reason we hide underground like rats.”
At the clear hatred in his voice, I struggled to free my hands. They were
bound by a black thread, like darkness, that wrapped tightly around my
wrists, preventing me from moving an inch. I glared at the man responsible.
“A cruel head coach with shadow magic but no brains.”
“Unable to resist, helpless, your breath even betrays fear. Yet you spit
words as if you own the world.” Desmond another step, shortening the
distance between us.
Was I scared? No. Did I feel angry? Yes. Using magic against me, a
woman who had just found out about it—arrogant. A crooked smile
appeared on my lips at the thought of such a thing.
His cool, cold fingers landed on my jaw, squeezing it so hard I couldn’t
move. I didn’t need to; the intense look in Desmond’s dark eyes was
enough. I didn’t even try to retreat. I wasn’t going to turn my face away and
hide from this man.
Desmond turned my head to the side, his gaze moving to my neck, then
lower and lower. Even with the serious expression on his face and the
intimidating features, there was something strange in his eyes as his gaze
landed on the pendant hanging around my neck.
“Where did you get that?” He grasped the pendant with his other hand,
lifting it to examine it more closely. “Where did you get this damn pendant?
This symbol?”
“It’s none of your business,” I said, the words barely understandable
with my chin still in his grip.
“Tell the truth. Now.” The fury in Desmond’s eyes sent a chill through
me.
“I came here to serve my sentence. Do it!” I yanked my face out of
Desmond’s hands, only a few centimeters separating our faces now that
mine had returned to its normal place.
The air around us was electric. The tension could be cut with a knife as
our gazes met and neither of us took our eyes off each other.
Desmond took a step back, raising one hand and waving two fingers in
the air. Out of nowhere, or perhaps out of the shadows that surrounded us, a
black dagger hovered in mid-air in front of my face, sharp, its blade glinting
in the candlelight.
“What will you choose, Merkins? The hand? A leg? Your face?”
Desmond’s eyebrow rose as his gaze traveled down my body and then back
to my face.
“What’s the fucking difference—”
The shadow threads wrapped around my neck, cutting off the air in my
lungs and my ability to speak. Then a black dagger sliced through my leg.
A snarl rose in my chest, and my hands clenched into fists.
Desmond turned on his heel, and everything stopped. The shadows
around my hands loosened and I stumbled, gripping my injured leg. Blood
oozed between my fingers.
“I don’t want to see your traitorous face in my office again,” Desmond
thundered, his back to me. “Get out of here.”
Pushing myself up from the floor, limping, I walked out of Desmond’s
office, finally escaping the darkness and his egotistical character. I headed
down the bright corridors back to the Ascension Games participant wing,
heading straight for the bedrooms. As my hand reached for the doorknob, a
man’s voice sounded behind me.
“The med kit is on your bed. Get cleaned up and back to training. I hope
I won’t have to take you to the head trainer again.” Roger strode away.
“Consider this a good lesson for you not to break the rules on this floor.”
I slammed the door behind me without saying anything. The audacity to
lecture me even after receiving my punishment. It wouldn’t stop me from
standing my ground in these training sessions. I wouldn’t stand there with
my head down like some obedient little dog and let others trample on my
self-esteem.
I found a white first aid kit, stripped off my clothes, disinfected the
wound, applied the medicine, and tied the gauze on my leg. Then I changed
into my new uniform and hurried out the door straight to the gym. My leg
throbbed from several cuts on the outside of my thigh, and the pain
worsened with each twinge, but I pressed on with gritted teeth. My lower
body wouldn’t be of any use today—probably not for another week or two
until the wound healed—so I sat on the bench, picking up the weights and
ignoring the stares directed at me.
“You should rest,” Bianor said from behind me. “If you do physical
work on your body, the wounds will heal slower.”
“You should have pretended you were blind; then you wouldn’t have had
to worry about my well-being.” I didn’t look at him, still lifting the weights.
“Sorry. Unwritten rules: no one likes a person who complains and
secretly slanders others to the coach. It’s like an open battlefield here—no
one saw anything, no one heard anything, even if it was happening right in
front of their eyes.”
“Rules, rules. Boring. Whether we finish each other off in the training
room or during the Ascension Games, more than half of us will still die.” I
pushed the weight off and walked toward the gym’s exit.
I walked toward the bedrooms, beads of sweat popping on my forehead
from fatigue and pain.
Two figures emerged from a narrow corridor ahead.
“Well, have you had fun with the head coach yet?” Morgana asked with
a smirk. She stopped in the middle of the path, blocking my passage.
“Get out of my way, Morgana, or it’s not just your face that will suffer.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, stopping a short distance away from the
pushy redhead.
“What a short, skinny, worthless woman,” her companion sneered. The
yellow-haired man’s blue eyes traveled over my body.
“A messenger blindly following orders who doesn’t have enough brains
to think for himself,” I fired back.
“How dare you...” The yellow-haired man stepped forward, clenching
his fists.
“Erasmus, don’t touch her.” Morgan’s hand landed on Erasmus’s
shoulder. “You’ll get your hands dirty.”
“See? Helpless.” I stepped forward, bumping the much taller Erasmus
and then Morgana with my shoulders.
I closed my bedroom door, undressed, and got comfortable in my bed. I
didn’t think I was tired, but I quickly sank into sleep.
Another nightmare woke me in the middle of the night. I got out of bed
in the light of the red lamp above and spied a stack of water bottles next to
the bedside table. They hadn’t been there before. It was a bit strange, maybe
even scary, to know that any trainer or participant could enter the room
while I was sleeping. There were no locks on the doors.
After a quick shower, I braided my hair, took care of the wound on my
leg, and put on my new uniform. Water bottle in hand, I glanced at the
clock. It was six o’clock in the morning. I closed the door behind me on my
way out. Training early in the morning would probably be my new routine.
It would be best to at least avoid breaking the rules and clashing with the
other participants of the Games.
 I set my water bottle on the bench, then sat down next to it and wrapped
my hands with a special bandage for the boxing pear. It would be foolish
and impractical to train with boxing gloves. One foot forward, a punch with
the right and the left, a change of foot, and the same combination of hands.
I had to get stronger if I didn’t want to be an easy target in the Games. The
fact that Olin and I were newcomers who only used our physical strength at
work, while our opponents had been to the Games before and had been able
to get stronger and prepare.
My hands began to shake. My knuckles ached and sweat dripped from
my chin.
“Are you trying to paint an even bigger target on your back?” Erasmus’s
voice rang out.
Ignoring him, I continued my training. He was not worth my attention. I
didn’t know if he would be on the opposing team or not, but he was one of
Morgana’s friends.
“Erasmus, leave the newcomer alone.” Bianor’s low voice came from
the other side.
“Cool it, Bianor. I’m just playing.”
“Go practice instead. You should take a cue from the others and stop
spending time with Morgana; she’s a bad influence on you.” Bianor turned
on a nearby treadmill.
“It’s nobody’s fault your friends were eaten by dragons. Mind your own
business, Bianor.” Erasmus turned on his heel and stalked out of the
training room.
I continued my workout until the gym filled up, and then I grabbed my
water bottle and left. When I met Olin, I said hello and he promised to meet
me soon in the dining hall. Walking down the corridors, hot food on a tray, I
chose the farthest bench in the half-empty canteen. The warm food soothed
my belly, and I nursed a cup of tea.
“Is this seat taken?” Cecily asked, appearing beside me.
“No,” I said reluctantly.
“How are you?” Cecily sat beside me. “I saw the incident between you
and Morgan.”
“Do you also think my family caused humanity’s war with dragons?”
A few lines creased Cecily’s forehead, and she shook her head. “You
shouldn’t care what others think, especially in a place like this.”
“It’s hard not to notice all the stares.”
 “No one will care about your name when you win the Games, when you
become one of the higher inhabitants of Eldmoor.” Cecily glanced around.
“Mervin, the dark-haired one sitting at that table, is an example. He was one
of the participants in the Ascension Games six months ago and never
returned to the lowest floor again. He seems to fit in here, despite his real
origins being lower.”
I didn’t take my eyes off the brown-haired man. The soft features of his
face were somewhat recognizable, as if etched in my memory. Perhaps I’d
seen him in the corridor. “Mervin attended the Games before that? Why was
he elected a second time?”
“The residents of the upper floors of Eldmoor have the right to choose
whether they want to attend the Games,” Cecily explained. “There are
usually enough volunteers and it’s not worth forcing a resident of this floor
onto the list. Meanwhile, the names of the residents of the lowest floor of
Eldmoor are chosen by the higher-ups.”
“How do you know all this information after spending only a few days
here?”
“Mervin is from our floor, and we were good acquaintances. The past six
months have not changed our relationship.” Cecily sighed. “Of course, we
try not to talk in public because you know what kind of person the residents
of the lowest floor are considered to be.”
“What kind of fool would voluntarily choose to participate in the Games
a second time?”
“It’s an easy route to money, a chance to take one of your family
members from a lower floor, fame, a chance to go even higher—everyone
has their reasons.”
Cecily was right. Everyone had their reasons for taking part in the
Games, their own goals and aspirations. Nevertheless, risking one’s life a
second time seemed crazy and foolish.
The yellow-haired woman sitting in front of me got up and left the
canteen, and her place was soon taken by Olin.
“How are you?” His worry was obvious. “Do I need to break the rules to
talk to that top trainer?”
“Calm down, Olin. It’s just a scratch. Desmond isn’t that terrible, but his
manners could really be more human.”
“Next time, include me before you break the rules. You should have hit
Morgana harder. I’m surprised all her teeth are in place.”
 I laughed. Morgana looked pretty good, surprisingly, even after taking a
metal tray to the face.
After lunch, we headed back toward the sleeping quarters. Olin decided
to head toward the training room while I went to my room for a bath and a
relaxing evening. For some reason, I believed Bianor’s words about resting.
After a quick shower and a few sips of water, my head hit the pillow.
Sleep overtook me quickly—too quickly. A strange buzzing made it
difficult to open my eyelids.
Something was wrong.
The image in front of my eyes was blurred, and I saw double. I didn’t
understand what was happening as my gaze landed on two figures standing
in the darkness.
“Well,” an unfamiliar voice said. “It’s time to have some fun.”
The other man stepped toward me, while I sat heavily on the bed trying
to understand what was happening. It was only when I recognized the face,
which looked strangely distorted, that I realized what was happening to me.
“The drugs working, bitch?” Erasmus whispered in my ear as his hand
gripped my neck. “Who’s helpless now?”

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OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIVE
CLARA
“Instinct is survival.”

Sound was warped. My vision blurred. My body wouldn’t function

properly.
I grabbed Erasmus’s hand, trying to pull it away from my neck. His other
hand pressed firmly against mine, preventing me from resisting. The other
man’s wet kisses landed on my waist as Erasmus held me against the bed
with his body while kissing my neck. I tried to kick my legs, to cry for help,
but his hand instantly landed on my mouth, muffling the sound. A chill
bloomed in my chest, sending unpleasant shivers through my body at the
touch of a strange man.
“Relax and enjoy.” The stranger’s kisses traveled up my thighs.
“This is your little lesson. Maybe next time you’ll learn to hold your
tongue.” Erasmus laughed. “Help me.”
In one movement, Erasmus put his arms around me, finally pinning my
body with his full weight. The stranger grabbed my wrists and held them in
place, looking into my eyes with passion. With a rough movement, Erasmus
pulled off my shirt, exposing my breasts, and didn’t hide his satisfaction at
the sight. I kicked Erasmus’s back with my knees, trying to do some
damage, my scream turning into a wail under the stranger’s strong hand.
“Which of us is helpless now?” Erasmus’s fingers slowly traced from my
chest down to my lower abdomen.
I tried to move as much as my body would allow, but every action
seemed slow, every word like an echo, and the image seemed to fade away
and come back to life. My breathing was uneven, and my heart pounded
like crazy in my chest. I hated Erasmus and the strange man, but my body
responded to their touch. Tears welled in my eyes. I had to resist. Had to
survive. To flee.
Adrenaline pulsed through my veins, and strength returned to my limbs,
counteracting whatever drug they’d given me. I jerked my face to the side
and bit the stranger’s hand, tearing skin.
 The stranger reared back. “You rat! You bit me.”
I slammed my forehead into the stranger’s face. My hands came free,
and I knew I had to seize this opportunity. My first punch traveled straight
to Erasmus’s face, but he caught my fist with his hand, trapping it above my
head. With my free hand, I hit one of the most dangerous spots—the
Adam’s apple in the middle of the neck.
Erasmus clutched at his throat, coughing, his face riddled with pain. The
stranger moved to grab my hands, but I shifted my body weight, pushing
Erasmus away from me. We fell to the ground.
I crawled on all fours toward the door. Help. I needed help.
A hand grabbed my leg, pulling me backward. A scream tried to leave
my lips, but it was strangled. Raw. The black-haired stranger climbed on
top of me, trying to restrain my resisting hands. The blow right in my face
made my ears prick up, the taste of blood in my mouth and the image
merged even more.
“You fucking bitch.” Erasmus struck a hard blow to my face. My ears
rang and I tasted blood.
I struggled to free myself from the stranger’s grasp. Erasmus’s loud
footsteps echoed around me, and I felt my sleep shorts leave my body. Cold
hands gripped my thighs.
I refused to give up. I hit the black-haired man in the face, and then
another scream caught in my throat as his hands gripped my neck.
Oxygen. I needed oxygen. My vision darkened as I felt Erasmus’s
fingers inside me. I wanted to give up, to lose consciousness and feel
nothing, but my thoughts wouldn’t let me. They screamed at me to fight.
My body gained strength. The drugs were diminishing in their effect. I
concentrated all my strength into getting on my feet but hit something hard.
“Hold her tighter,” Erasmus’s demanded.
I lifted my hips as my legs came free, knocking the dark-haired man off
balance and forcing him to let go of my hands. I grabbed his arms, forcing
my body to the side, and instantly reversed our positions. I rained blows on
the man’s face, one after the other, until my fists were bloody and he was
unconscious.
I pushed myself off the ground to rush toward the door, but Erasmus’s
hand grabbed my wrist. A glance toward the man’s face, his bloody nose,
proved that the kick had hit where I had meant it to.
 Erasmus smiled at me with bloody teeth. “You won’t get away so
easily.”
He tugged hard on my arm, yanking him toward me. His fist connected
with my cheek, causing me to lose my balance. I hit the ground and covered
my face with my hands to protect myself from further blows.
Erasmus pinned me to the ground again, striking me directly in my
blocked face. I yelped, my body tensing beneath his barrage.
“On this floor,” he grunted, “you will meet your end.”
My thoughts scattered as my body grew weaker. Pain left me dizzy. I
looked up, away from Erasmus’s face and toward the possibility of escape,
and glimpsed the hilt of my sword at the foot of the bed.
This was it—my only chance to survive this.
I removed my hands, leaving my face bare to Erasmus’s blows, and
reached for my sword. A punch to my face nearly brought me to
unconsciousness, but then my fingers brushed something cold. I swept two
fingers over the invisible blade.
A white flame illuminated the room. With one flick, Erasmus fell back
from me with a deep wound on his cheek. He retreated and covered it with
one hand.
I sat up, scooting toward the door, my drawn sword in my hands.
“This is the wrong thing to do, fool.” Erasmus drew his sword, which
glowed a soft gray.
I heaved myself off the ground, pushing the door open and falling
backward into the corridor. It was pitch black, night, completely silent and
still.
Erasmus’s sword was pointed at the ground, and with each step it shone
more and more, leaving a small mark on the floor.
“Help,” I screamed. I didn’t know how to fight with a sword. My back
was against the cold wall, and I gripped my sword with both hands,
watching as Erasmus raised his in preparation for the blow. His sword
swung down but stopped a meter from my face.
“What a pathetic way to behave.” Bianor’s voice rang out nearby.
“Get out of here, Bianor.” Erasmus’s displeased gaze shifted toward
Bianor.
Darkness soon turned to light. There was a rustling from the bedrooms
and, one by one, the participants hurriedly filled the corridor.
 “Attacking a newcomer is low, even for you.” Bianor’s low voice filled
the corridor.
There was silence. Olin kneeled next to me. I flinched, looking away
from him as shame coursed through me.
“It’s okay. It’s over.” Olin placed his jacket on me, hiding my nearly
naked body.
“What’s going on here?” Coach Roger’s voice demanded. “Drop your
damn swords, now!”
I dropped my sword and placed it beside me. Murmurs and exclamations
sounded around me, spreading through the gathered crowd. I clutched
Olin’s jacket, trying to hide the visible parts.
“Who’s to blame here? What happened?” Roger stepped forward, taking
in the situation. “Clara, do you have something to say?”
Bianor’s words that nobody liked those who complain to the coach, who
betrayed bad deeds or actions, echoed in my head. Erasmus’s contemptuous
gaze was fixed on me, blood running down his deeply cut cheek. The
silence was so thick and nobody dared to say a word, even me, probably
afraid of what might happen next.
“It’s Erasmus’s work. It looks like he attacked Clara.” Olin stood up,
shielding me with his body and looking at Roger.
Roger stepped forward, stopping at my room and looking inside. The
bedclothes were torn, the covers bloody, the clock thrown off the wardrobe,
and the unconscious black-haired stranger lay there.
“Cole, Erasmus, and Clara, you will come with me. Olin, you pick up
Cole. Clara, go get dressed. Erasmus, don’t you dare move. Everyone else,
go back to your bedrooms.”
I stepped into my bedroom while Olin carried the unconscious Cole out,
closing the door behind him. I washed the blood off my knuckles and face,
put on my uniform, and stepped through the door.
“Are you going to tell me what happened now, Clara?” Roger crossed
his arms, looking at me and waiting patiently for an answer.
“No,” I said, even as my brain screamed the truth.
“Fine, then you will all be punished for breaking the rules and using a
sword outside the training rooms.” Roger’s voice was calm, but his
expression betrayed his frustration. “Follow me.”
Down the dimly lit corridors ahead, at the assembly room, Cole regained
consciousness and disentangled himself from Olin’s arms. The black-haired
man’s wrathful gaze landed on me first, and he rose from the ground to
reach me.
Olin, in a swift movement, blocked me with his tall body. “I’d look
around you, Cole.”
As Cole met Coach Roger’s gaze, his body immediately relaxed and his
attention went to the floor, his eyes blazing with anger. Slowly, we all
moved forward.
“What happened in there?” Olin asked quietly, squeezing my hand in
encouragement.
Pain flared. I let out a faint cry and pulled my hand away. It had to be a
broken arm or knuckles from the blow to Cole’s face. I shook my head in
the negative in response to Olin; it was the last thing I wanted to talk about.
Roger paused as he reached the main meeting room. “Thanks for the
help, Olin. You can go back to your bedroom wing.”
“Good night, Coach,” Olin replied curtly. Reluctantly, he turned around.
I could feel his gaze fixed on my back as he walked away.
We moved on, stopping at a familiar door—Desmond. Head Coach,
chosen by shadow magic.
“You know the way from here. I don’t want to see any more foolishness.
Get moving.” Roger nudged Erasmus to step first.
Cole stepped behind Erasmus, and then me. It wasn’t as dark as the first
time, but the smell of spices and wood cigars was the same. I scanned the
room for a tall dark figure in a chair or at the table, but he was nowhere to
be seen.
“Is everyone in this town so stupid to break the rules?” Desmond‘s voice
came from the darkness.
My gaze lingered on the side from which the voice came, but there was
nothing to see.
“Kneel. Now.”
“Are you kidding?” Erasmus demanded. “That bitch deserved it. She—
“He fell to his knees, screaming in pain, his hands trying to grasp something
in the dark. His inner calf oozed blood. “Are you insane to treat the people
of this town like that?”
“Insane? That’s the nicest thing you can call me.” Desmond stepped out
of the shadows, grabbing hold of Erasmus’s hair and pulling his head back,
forcing him to meet his gaze. “Masochist, dark, mad, cruel, loser, outcast.
They call me all sorts of things.” Desmond tugged harder on Erasmus’s
hair, eliciting a scream from him. “Choose. Leg, arm, or face?”
“Does Lazarus know what kind of punishments are doled out to an
Ascension Games participant?” Cole asked indignantly.
Desmond waved his free hand. Cole lost his balance, falling on his back
and pulling himself backward until he leaned against the wall. Fear shone in
the black-haired man’s eyes, that hideous look of pride finally evaporating.
“Face,” Erasmus grunted.
Desmond’s attention returned to him. He held out his hand, snapping his
fingers, and purple and black flames began to swirl around them as if
dancing.
Fear shone in Erasmus’s eyes. His lips pressed into a line, trying with all
his might to pull his head away from Desmond’s approaching fingers.
“Come on,” Desmond taunted. “Cry like a little girl.”
“Your father will find out about this,” Erasmus said through gritted teeth.
Desmond pressed his fingers under Erasmus’s eyes. The purple flames
traveled down to his jaw, charring and peeling off the skin. Erasmus’s
scream was so loud, so full of pain, that it could probably be heard in the
participants’ residential wing.
“Who do you think put me in this place, fool?” Desmond’s bitter
laughter boomed as he withdrew his fingers and the violent sparks ceased.
“Don’t you dare threaten me.” He punched Erasmus, watching as he
staggered back and clutched his other cheek.
Desmond waved his hand again, but I pulled my sword out of its sheath
and put it behind my back. Desmond’s shadows disappeared in the light
from my blade.
“Punishing the victim would be wrong when the actions that took place
were just an act of self-defense,” I said, feigning confidence.
“You think I care?” Desmon stepped forward, his eyes cold.
I took a step back and drew my sword forward, ready to defend myself. I
didn’t care if he was the top trainer, the scariest monster, or respected by all;
I’d stand up for myself as long as I could breathe.
Desmond’s laughter filled the darkness. “You think magic will stop me?”
He waved his hand.
One by one, the shadows approached me.

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OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SIX
CLARA
“The winners are those who remain human.”

One by one, the shadows enveloped my sword, extinguishing the white

flame in an instant. I took a few steps back, increasing the distance between
myself and Desmond.
“To defy the coach, to be so stubborn and stupid...” Thick cigar smoke
escaped Desmond’s lips.
“I’d rather fight for my place and resist undue punishment than be
Lazarus’s obedient servant who disciplines the victim instead of protecting
them in an unjust situation.”
“Your place? Stubborn and knows what she wants.” The corner of
Desmond’s lips lifted. “Get out of my office, Merkins.”
I hurried toward the exit, but the door suddenly opened. Light flooded
the room, drawing everyone’s attention. An unfamiliar man with light
brown hair stood framed in the doorway. He met Desmond’s eyes, and
something wordless was exchanged between them.
“You’re early.” Desmond shook his head. “You bastards get out of
here.”
Cole and Erasmus rushed out the office door, the latter still clutching his
injured face.
The brown-haired man turned sideways to let me pass, his green eyes
never leaving my face as I walked by. A strange aura emanated from him, as
if for a second time stood still. Then I was in the hallway, and the door was
closing behind me.
Desmond’s frustrated voice filtered through the crack just before it
closed. “Chad, you’ve ruined all the fun.”
“Just once, you looked the other way and—”
The door snicked shut, cutting off the rest of Chad’s words.
I went back to the sleeping quarters, to my room, and tidied up the mess.
A short shower cleaned my body, but inside I still felt dirty. I bandaged my
injured arm, although I wasn’t how much it would help or how long it
would take to heal.
The idea of sleeping was abhorrent, so I decided to eat first before
heading toward the training rooms. It was early, and the canteen was mostly
empty. I took my tray of hot food to a table near the back and sat next to
Olin, who was looking at me intently.
“Clara, come on,” he said when I didn’t offer an explanation. “Don’t
shut yourself off from me; you know it’s pointless.”
“It was just a terrible night of separating the weak from the strong.” I
started eating, hoped it would discourage any further conversation.
“I hope the terrible coach understood that you’re not to blame for this
tragic situation.” Olin’s gaze darted down my body as if searching for signs
of injury.
“Lucky for me, an unknown person showed up at our meeting, so
Desmond just told everyone to leave.”
“Lucky?” Deep creases appeared in Olin’s forehead. “You mean he
wanted to punish you too?”
“Yes. I didn’t tell Coach Roger the truth, so we were all punished for
using magic outside the training rooms. Even when I resisted and subtly
hinted at being the victim of an attack, Desmond didn’t seem to care.”
Olin was silent for a few moments as if weighing every word. My mind
wandered, trying to understand Desmond’s banter, and Erasmus’s threats
about Desmond’s father, but nothing fit together. Did Erasmus know more
about him? It would be interesting to know, but after today’s incident, I
wasn’t keen on asking him about it.
“It seems Desmond is missing a few screws,” Olin growled.
“Everybody in this town is a little crazy—about power, about money,
about the chance to be better than everybody else, regardless of the price
you have to pay.”
“Cole and Erasmus just prove that the people on the bottom floor are
much smarter.” Olin’s resentment was clear. “It seems that the higher we go
and the longer we stay on this floor, the more everyone around us becomes
like a beast, wanting to exclude others.”
“There must be something behind all this. A reason.” I sighed. “Erasmus
couldn’t have acted so disgustingly just because of a few bad words I said
to him. I refuse to believe that so little can make a person feel like killing
someone. It defies logic.”
 “Some people aren’t worthy of an excuse or explanation. It could be
Morgana’s doing, wanting to get rid of you. She already proved her
behavior at our first meeting by threatening you in public. Cole and
Erasmus may be just pawns.”
“Morgana can’t be that powerful,” I muttered. “Though I could be
wrong. You can see how strong she is, living on this floor, radiating
confidence and leadership instincts. She’s intelligent and physically strong,
but I don’t think two grown men would blindly follow her orders. There has
to be something more.” I pushed away the tray of food, feeling full.
“Or it’s just a desire to get rid of as many participants as possible before
the Games start. Only then, at the end of the Games, will they have more
opportunities and more places available at the finishing line. But nobody
knows which teams will be there, which participants will be pitted against
each other, so removing the ones you don’t like might backfire.” Olin rested
his chin in his hand, deep in thought.
“Morgana plans to eliminate the weakest or the strongest, thus reducing
the threat factor in the Games and increasing the survival rate.” I shook my
head.
“Time to practice so we don’t become easy targets.” Olin got up from the
bench, waiting for me to follow suit.
We headed down the familiar corridors toward the training room. As
soon as I entered, everyone’s eyes turned toward me. The tension was high,
and I could feel everyone’s gaze fixed on me. Morgana, Cole, and Erasmus
were working out at the pear pits, while Bianor, Mervin, and Cecily were in
the weightlifting area.
Olin and I headed toward the treadmills. Out of the corner of my eye, I
saw Erasmus stalking toward us, his hands clenched into fists and his gaze
fixed contemptuously on Olin.
Yeah, if it wasn’t for my best friend, none of those bastards would have
been punished.
I draped my arm across my best friend’s waist, my other resting on the
hilt of my sword. “Don’t you dare take another step.”
“Do you think you frighten me, Clara? Go away, you despicable piece of
trash. That goat deserves to answer for his actions” Erasmus grabbed my
shoulder as if to shove me out of the way.
The single touch was enough to make my body react. I grabbed
Erasmus’s wrist, pulling it away from my shoulder, and grabbed his elbow
with my other hand, forcing him to kneel. He tried to kick my leg, but Olin
blocked it.
“Don’t you dare touch Clara again.” Olin punched Erasmus right in the
face.
Erasmus spat blood on the ground, unable to move from where I had him
pinned. I held him there an extra moment, then let go and stepped back.
“You will soon pay for your words, Olin,” Erasmus muttered as he
walked away.
“The audacity of using your power against a woman and trying to rape
her,” Olin called after him. Then he patted me on the shoulder, bringing me
back to reality.
A few minutes later, with the treadmill beneath my feet, I tried to shut off
my thoughts. I couldn’t get Erasmus’s words to Olin out of my head. My
body tired very quickly, because of the stress and struggle I had
experienced. I turned off the track and sat down on the bench to wait for
Olin to finish his workout.
As we made our way toward the sleeping wing, footsteps sounded
behind me.
“Clara, wait,” Bianor called, jogging to catch up with us. “We need to
talk.”
“I’m going to go change and shower.” Olin nodded once before stepping
away. “I’ll meet you in the lounge.”
Bianor’s face betrayed much as he looked at me, but the most obvious
was the worry shining deep in his eyes. “I haven’t had a chance to ask you
how you feel. Are you all right?”
“The important thing is that I survived.” The corner of my lips lifted in
an attempt to dispel the uncomfortable tension.
“Always keep your sword on the left side of your bed in the space
between the wall and the bed. It’s the quickest way to defend yourself. I
speak from experience. Of course, Desmond will continue to punish the use
of magic outside the training hall, but they all pretend to be blind because of
the attempted murders that occur outside the Games. Better to be punished
than dead.”
“Thanks for the tip, Bianor. I’ll be sure to take it.” I hesitated. “Perhaps
it’s too blunt to ask since we’re not friends, but this is your second time at
the Games, isn’t it?”
 Bianor nodded. “It might sound stupid, but I feel I owe it to my parents.
You see, for most of my childhood, I was from the lowest floor of Eldmoor,
but thanks to my parents, I have risen higher. Knowing they risked their
lives to give me a better one, it’s difficult.”
“I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me about your past. However, if
the participants who win the Ascension Games secure a better life for
themselves, that means they don’t need to return to the lowest floor. That’s
why I don’t understand your voluntary participation.”
“My parents are quite elderly and rarely leave their rooms because of
injuries sustained during the Games. I am not physically able to support
three people on my own. Fame and money always end, even after winning
the Games. This is my only chance to take care of them. They risked their
lives a long time ago—first my father, who pulled my mother, and then my
mother who pulled me. Now it’s my turn to take care of them.”
“Taking care of those who took care of you.” I smiled. “At least
someone on this floor isn’t selfish.”
Bianor studied me. “The way you prepare, work, and train, it seems like
you have something to fight for too.”
For a moment, my mind flashed back to memories with my mother,
when we were first brought to the city, how we traveled to work, how her
health had been failing due to illness, and how nobody cared. I had to be the
person who took care of her and earned money. I had to get her out of the
bottom floor. Although I wasn’t sure how much more luxurious life would
be on this floor, it had to be better than where I came from.
“Yes,” I said finally. “My mother.”
It was a subject I didn’t want to talk about. Moving my mother to this
place could be dangerous, seeing how I was treated here.
“Thank you for talking to me, Bianor, but it’s time for me to go. Olin is
waiting.” I nodded a thank you and turned on my heel.
“Clara, one more thing.”
“Yes?” I turned to look over my shoulder at Bianor.
“Not many people use the outside exit, which is open from ten to eleven.
It’s that door over there. It might be a great opportunity to clear your mind
and see the real world after all this time.” Bianor pointed toward a nearby
pillar.
“Definitely.” I smiled broadly as I headed for the corridor.
 The sound of running water and the dim light made my body relax. I sat
down next to Olin, who was chatting with Cecily. I rested my head on his
shoulder, not listening to the conversation. I felt safe; nobody would touch
me here with Olin. My eyelids grew heavy, and darkness settled over me.
“Clara, it’s time to wake up.” Olin’s voice sounded somewhere in the
distance.
I opened my eyes with difficulty, my gaze shifting to Olin, who was
looking down at me. I was lying on his thighs, my legs comfortably
stretched out on the couch.
“Don’t stare like that.” I covered my face with my hands.
“It’s time for us to get going; it’s ten o’clock. Unless you want to be
taken to Desmond’s office again, you should sleep in your room.” Olin put
his hands on my shoulders and gently helped me sit up.
I yawned as we walked toward the corridor. I had fallen asleep like a
child in the middle of a conversation I was supposed to join. “Thank you for
giving me a comfortable place to sleep,” I said to Olin, the corner of my lips
turning up.
“There’s nothing to be thankful for, Clara.” Olin laughed. “If you feel
safer, I can spend the night in your room. On the floor, of course.” Olin
didn’t finish his sentence, averting his gaze from my face.
“It’s punishable, have you forgotten? Everyone must sleep in their
rooms.”
Olin wanted to make sure I slept safely and that I was rested. He
genuinely cared for me like a sister, a best friend, his only family left.
“I can endure one punishment.” Olin smiled broadly and playfully
punched my arm.
“Don’t be stubborn and go to your room. I’ll see you in the morning.
Good night, Olin.” I gave him a brief hug.
“Good night, Clara.” Olin freed himself from my embrace and turned
toward his room.
The door closed softly, and my feet took the opposite direction. Slow,
lazy steps took me toward the meeting room.
Now, at the very hour Bianor had mentioned, the door he’d indicated
opened onto the surface world. Was it safe? I didn’t know.
With every step, my body woke up more and more, and the thoughts in
my head seemed to jump as if crazy with impatience. I returned to the cold,
well-lit meeting room and found a white door behind the column Bianor
had pointed to. I pushed it open and stared at a corridor leading upward as if
climbing some huge mountain.
I hadn’t a blue sky, because this was the second deepest floor, but at least
there could be an elevator.
The lights in the wall, one after the other, made my breathing heavier as
I climbed higher and higher. My legs grew tired, but I slogged forward until
I reached another door. I put out my hand, but my skin went raw as a biting
wind blew through the barely open door.
Someone was here already?
I put my ear to the door, trying to hear a voice on the other side, but
nothing. Perhaps someone had just forgotten to close the door. I opened it
wide and stepped forward.
My eyes were greeted by thousands of glittering stars shining in the
night sky. A light layer of snow crunched underfoot, and a bright moon
shone in the sky.
A strange, indescribable happiness came over me. It was as if I were a
small child. I felt free, but it was not true.
A huge mountain formed an unclimbable wall. A high fence on the
opposite side sported a bright red sign with white lettering that said
BEWARE OF DRAGONS.
I sat down on a bench, closing my eyes, and filled my lungs with fresh
air. A wide smile split my face. It felt so good to imagine I was free.
Then the wind blew harder, freeing a few strands of my hair and
bringing a strange smell.

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 CHAPTER SEVEN
DESMOND
I stood in the shadows as the winter wind blew the snow. I was just a few
feet from her, the woman I hated for her past. Like a child, she sat smiling
with her eyes closed, snowflakes glistening in her curly hair and the moon
dimly illuminating the soft lines of her face. It would only take one
movement—one unexpected act—and this woman’s life would end before
my eyes. She deserved it. Her father deserved it.
Twenty years ago, a war had been fought. Dragons had raged and almost
all of humanity had been destroyed. Thanks to my father, people now had a
place to live, a temporary shelter, a roof over their heads. Gratitude was all I
felt. No respect.
I returned to the inside of Eldmoor, walking toward the main meeting
room. Chad was already lurking in the corridor, patiently awaiting my
return, toying with his twilight sword.
“Chad, can you be serious?” My calm voice drifted down the quiet
corridor, drawing my best friend’s attention.
“Not when your father wants to see you. It’ll be fun.” Chad smiled
broadly.
“Aren’t you tired of being a messenger?” My eyebrow rose as I walked
past Chad.
He caught up with me after a few steps. “Would you rather see Milo
instead?”
“Don’t mention that name.”
The corridor led toward the living quarters on this floor—jobs such as
bars, cooks, waiters, accountants, and others requiring more intelligence
and education than physical strength. Opposite the glass doors, the lift
button led to the upper floors of Eldmoor. A beep and the green light was
illuminated.
There was a brief silence during which my thoughts drifted to Milo, my
older brother, sitting up there with my father Lazarus. The elevator was
soon ascending, while my fingers drummed on the wall trying to calm the
anger boiling inside me.
 A few moments later, the doors opened to a long, bright red corridor
leading into the main control room of Eldmoor. It held my father’s office,
guards, and people in charge of tracking crime and making rules, games,
and factories. A black door with a symbol in the middle loomed at the far
end. The meaning of that symbol had been drilled into me from a very
young age.
A fingerprint, a beep to confirm my identity, and the door opened wide.
Security was tight; even as the younger son of Lazarus, I did not have
access to all the rooms and doors on this floor.
As the doors opened wide, my gaze went to a tall red armchair. In it sat
none other than my father, Lazarus. Milo and another guard stood on either
side of his desk. I nodded to them in greeting.
“You finally showed up.” Lazarus’s eyes were fixed on me. “Have you
decided to stop ignoring my invitations to meet?”
As always, he was dressed in luxury—a sumptuous suit, a glittering
watch, tawny graying hair, and shallow facial wrinkles.
I stopped a few meters from my father’s chair. “There’s no reason for us
to talk, Dad.”
My gaze flicked toward the huge office, where computers with video
screens, numbers tracking expenses and earnings, lists of names, and
everyone in the building were written on them. Four assistants typed on
keyboards, two guards stood at the door, and one person in charge sat in the
middle.
“Have you chosen your apprentice for the upcoming Ascension Games?”
Dad’s voice was cold.
“No. They’re all still weak. There are only three candidates.”
At each new Games, I had to choose one candidate to be my apprentice.
It had to be a resident of the lowest floor, as the others already had
experience. By this action, I gave greater advantage and fun to those who
lived above. Residents of this floor could bet money and other precious
things on which contestant would reach the finish line first. Everyone
believed the participants I had trained were the strongest because I had
competed in more than one event myself and knew what awaited them on
the ground.
“The clock is ticking,” my father said. “You want to secure your place as
a coach? Prove you deserve it.”
 “Maybe we should throw Milo into the Games. I’m sure the residents
would love the excitement.” There was a note of mockery in my voice.
“Desmond.” My father’s voice was indignant.
“The founder’s son should surpass everyone at the Games.” My gaze
went to my elder brother. “He is so strong, an example and an inspiration to
all.”
“That’s enough. Get out of my office. You have three days to present
your choice.” My father pointed to the door.
“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” I turned on my heel.
My gaze met Milo’s. Anger simmered under his calm mask, but there
was nothing he could do but blindly obey his father.
Chad and I returned to the lift. I kept the anger inside, burning, flaming,
because of things that had happened in the past.
Once we were away from prying eyes, Chad’s laughter broke the silence.
“The look on Lazarus’s face was worth a million bucks.”
My best friend’s words made the corner of my lips twitch. Of course, the
look on my father’s face had been unmistakable. Just the thought of losing
his first son in the Games, the man he was grooming to run all of Eldmoor,
sounded like the end of the world and the severing of a limb. As opposed to
losing me, the spare.
“Milo would die within the first hour,” Chad said, still chuckling.
“The damn coddler.”
“Do you at least have an apprentice? You know what happens if you
don’t choose one. You’ll lose your trainer’s place and be relegated to the
dark floor, with the cockroaches and snakes. How’s that newbie? Clara?”
“Why would I train a woman who deserves to die?”
Chad was silent for a few minutes as the lift took us to the penultimate
floor of Eldmoor. We walked down the corridor toward a separate training
room for the residents of this floor. They rarely used this place, as a life of
luxury crammed with quality food and entertainment was much better than
sport.
“Wouldn’t it be more fun to watch her struggle to survive than to be
disappointed when, with one breath of fire, the dragon kills her? Boring.”
“A woman who can’t follow the rules and has been in my office twice
already? She has no discipline and no self-control.” I nudged the door open
and snapped my fingers. The hall lights illuminated the room. “Besides,
who would put money on a woman the whole city wants dead?”
 This room was unlike any other I’d seen, completely empty, with only a
few mirrors, lights, and a marble floor. My hand landed lightly on my
scabbard, and I drew out the hilt of my sword, running one finger across the
blade. The black and purple blade soon appeared in all its glory, glowing in
the dimly lit surroundings. I wasn’t sure why shadow magic had chosen me,
but it hadn’t chosen my father or my brother.
Chad drew his sword, glowing gray, and pointed it toward me, taking a
few steps back. “Don’t you think this shows that she is different from all the
participants? She clearly knows what she wants, and she’s not into boring
rules. She fights for herself and not because someone higher up told her to.”
Chad flexed his sword arm, bringing his other hand to the blade with his
fingers outstretched.
A silver spinning ball detached from Chad’s sword, filled with fog, and
flew at high speed straight toward me. I held two fingers up above my head
and swiped downward. Black spikes fell from the darkness, destroying
Chad’s attack. A few quick slashes and our swords met each other, forming
a cross. Fog mingled with shadows as our swords clashed again and again.
Magic burst with each collision, knocking us a few steps back.
I extended my hand, palm and fingers upward, rising higher. Threads of
darkness wrapped around Chad’s legs, imprisoning him. A smile spread
across my best friend’s face as he gripped his sword with both hands,
stabbing it into the ground. A burst of light spread outward, destroying the
shadow threads, but the damage had already been done.
Chad drew his sword toward me with the pointed end forward, putting
his hand to the hilt of the sword and pulling the sword toward him with a
strong motion. Within the half-triangular shape formed by his fingers, the
tiles began to split. With every crack that appeared, a flash of light
underground bolted toward me.
I kneeled, turning the sword to the side and pressing the hilt firmly with
my other palm. Five clones appeared in the room. I switched places with
one of them to avoid an attack. The lightning beneath the tiles destroyed my
clones one by one, enveloping them in lightning threads. Each clone that
was killed weakened me. There was no pain, but I felt an unpleasant
exhaustion of strength.
“Ha—found you.” Chad ran straight toward me, swinging his sword.
I raised my sword above my head, still kneeling, and blocked Chad’s
blow to my head. The impact was so powerful that the tiles beneath my feet
caved in.
My best friend took a step back from the force of the blow, and I stood
up with a quick crouch and stuck my foot out. Chad fell flat on his back. I
extended my sword, the point nearly touching the skin of his neck.
“You damn dog.” Chad pushed my sword away, still grinning, and
extended his arm toward me.
“You haven’t lost your skills.” I grabbed Chad’s arm, helping him to his
feet.
“One day, it’ll be you on the floor and not me.” Chad gave my shoulder
a friendly thump with a fist bump before returned his sword to its place in
his scabbard.
“A few more training sessions like this and maybe you’ll get lucky.” I
smiled broadly at my best friend.
“Don’t be so cocky.” Chad walked toward the exit. “It’s time for me to
go back and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time, right?” Chad
pushed the door open, waiting for me.
“Sure; you can help me pick a person to train.”
Chad waved and turned left, stepping into the living quarters through the
glass doors. I headed in the opposite direction, toward the office where I
spent most of my nights. I had my own room set up on this floor and the
next, but I’d much rather spend my nights in a place I liked than surrounded
by unnecessary luxury, glitz, and amenities.
Down a long, dark corridor, I slid open the door of my office, a cigar in
my hand and bittersweet smoke filling my lungs. I settled into the chair,
letting my body relax, my heart still pounding from my workout with Chad.
Thick smoke left my lips. I closed my eyes as I turned my head upward and
let my mind relax. Today had been a stressful day. I deserved to rest and
hoped tomorrow I wouldn’t have to meet rule breakers in my office.
After extinguishing my cigar, I headed toward the door hidden in the
shadows, a bedroom with a few bookshelves, a shower, a kitchen, and a
sitting corner. I locked the door, hiding in the shadows, and felt much more
energetic after I used the shower. I lay down under the white sheets, lying
on my side, looking at the black wall.
“Time to have some fun.” My eyes closed as my thoughts merged into
one big ball.
I could wander the corridors and rooms of Eldmoor without leaving my
bedroom. Where there was darkness, there I could be. Of course, I couldn’t
say anything, couldn’t touch anything, but I could see, and that was enough
for me.
The top floor of Eldmoor, where my father’s office was, extended down
corridors and into many rooms. My father’s bedroom, a spacious area, tidy,
made me feel uncomfortable.
Lazarus slept as if his conscience were clearer than crystal. The
disappearances, the deaths of the participants in the Games, all the blood
that had been shed… All these disasters led to him. How could he sleep so
peacefully?
In the next room was one of my father’s best friends, Augustin. I
remembered him from my childhood. He had been close to my father until
something had happened to him. He had been there during all the training
sessions with my brother, during the lows when I had wanted to give up and
not compete, when I just wanted to be my dad’s son.
At the next room, I couldn’t get past the wall. I was left standing in the
corridor, in the shadows, unable to move forward. Even when the door
opened wide, an elderly man with white hair and deep wrinkles stepped
through, leaning on a stick, I could not pass. Even with the door open, I
couldn’t get in. It was as if something was stopping me.
Lester, a man who always carried a strange big bag that he barely lifted,
with emptiness shining in his eyes, and something strange—perhaps
secrets…
“Let me show you. Show you again...” A strange voice, quiet but so rich.
Pain cut through my shoulder, forcing me to open my eyes wide. As I
returned to my body, it was as if I had lost control. I couldn’t bear the pain,
writhing on the bed like some helpless creature. I wanted to ignore the pain,
the old wounds left on my body from the Ascension Games.
I clutched the covers tightly, my teeth digging into the pillow, trying to
control the scream that wanted to escape my lips. My eyes closed tightly,
even though I didn’t want them to, and the images began to change one by
one. Mountains, meadows, snow, burnt cities. These images had been seen
through my eyes a long time ago, but now they were different, smaller,
more distant. Snowy mountains, towering, imposing, changing each other.
Black dragons flying in the sky, passing by me at tremendous speed, so
powerful, free, and dangerous.
The image broke, and my eyes opened wide to the black ceiling.
Drenched in cold sweat, waves of pain traveled one after another. My body
shook. From my shoulder to my heart, from my shoulder to the palm of the
hand, one after the other, excruciating, unrelenting pain.
Finally, everything calmed down. All that remained was my rapid
breathing and pounding heart. I tried not to close my eyes. I knew it
wouldn’t happen again, but the anxiety persisted.
It happened sometimes—that strange voice and images of the surface of
the earth where dragons roamed free. The places I could see with my eyes
closed, filled with pain, were strange. The visions were different every time,
but the voice and pain that would break even the strongest remained the
same.
I had been curious about the other participants in the Ascension Games,
shadowing their whereabouts, their well-being, how they dealt with their
wounds after the Games, and how they felt emotionally. Unfortunately,
none of them seem to suffer from what happened to me.
Exhaustion swept over me, and my eyes closed of their own volition.
This time, my mind slipped into the realm of dreams, not nightmares.
A knock sounded in the distance, waking me. I took a quick shower,
dressed in my uniform, and met Chad in the hallway. “Good morning.
You’re early today.”
“I’m looking forward to traveling with you.” Chad followed me to my
office and made himself comfortable in my chair. “You look tired. Are you
all right?”
“I’m fine. I was wandering in the shadows too much yesterday.” I
pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway. “Let’s get this over
with.”
I walked quickly, exchanging nods with a few familiar faces, until I
reached the meeting room where Roger and the contestants were waiting for
me. I had called the meeting yesterday, knowing I would have to choose
today.
As soon as my footsteps echoed in the hall, everyone’s eyes fell on me.
The contestants’ expressions changed instantly—fright, worry, their eyes
full of fear.
“Today we have a very special guest,” Roger said, his voice booming in
the silence. “Some of you have already met the head coach Desmond
Callahan. He participated in the eighth Ascension Games and is the
youngest son of Lazarus, respected and feared by all who meet him. Today
he has chosen one apprentice to train for the next few weeks before the
Ascension Games begin.”
Everyone’s gaze darted to the side, no one daring to maintain eye contact
with me. Out of fear or respect, I didn’t care.
Chad stood behind me, absently patting his sides as he stared at my three
choices—Cecily, Olin, and Clara.
“Which participant do you think would suit me best?” My attention
shifted from the participants to Roger.
“Bianor and Morgana, participants who have already had experience in
the Games, have won, are physically fit, and can handle their magic well.”
Roger nodded to the red-haired woman and the man with long black hair.
“Hmm.” My gaze went to my best friend. “Chad? What is your
opinion?”

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 CHAPTER EIGHT
CLARA
“You’ve been chosen; there’s no going back.”

Some stood looking down in awe and reverence, but not me. I burned
with anger when I heard Desmond’s full name. Now everything was falling
into place—Lazarus Callahan, the founder of this city and its flashy facade
and its many promises. In reality, his inside was much darker, rotten, and
sinful, just like his son Desmond. It would not even surprise me if Lazarus
was the person responsible for spreading slander and lies about the war and
that I was the cause of it. Supposing that was true, why my father?
Chad looked at Desmond, and it seemed to be enough to see the answer
in the brown-haired man’s eyes.
Desmond returned his attention to the crowd, and that intense gaze
zeroed in on me. “Clara Merkins.”
Murmurs swept through the group, but it was hard to tell if everyone was
satisfied that I was going to train with the most brutal trainer or excited
knowing that I wouldn’t succeed.
“Great,” Roger said. “Clara, you will report to Desmond’s office every
morning. Your bedroom stays on this side, but your training does not.”
I tried to understand why Desmond had chosen me. It could have been
Morgan, Bianor, Cecily, or even Olin. Each of them was likely physically
stronger. Most of them had even been to the Games, which meant
experience and a greater chance of survival.
I could said nothing else, so I muttered, “Yes, coach.”
“The rest of us will go to the second training room. Time to start magic
training.” Roger led the way, and the rest of the group obediently followed.
“You, come with me.” Desmond walked toward the archway leading out
of the second meeting room.
“I have a name,” I said as I fell into step behind him.
My gaze drifted toward Olin before he disappeared from view. His
expression was full of anxiety, pride, confidence, and doubt. Yes, my best
friend was worried about what was next for me. Tomorrow was not certain
for either of us, but I would do everything in my power to see another
dawn.
Chad and Desmond walked ahead while I trailed behind, not wanting to
interfere in the conversation between the two men.
“I hope you’re not mistaken.” Desmond’s low, rich voice left his lips,
and he tilted his head slightly toward Chad.
Chad grinned. “Think of it as an experiment.”
“Well, I’m certainly no lab rat,” I said loudly.
“Now she’s your problem.” Chad laughed and clapped Desmond on the
shoulder.
“Don’t think you can get away with it.” The corner of Desmond’s lips
turned up.
Both men ignored me. I expected nothing less. They were arrogant,
treating those weaker and smaller than themselves as mere playthings and
push-puppets.
We passed Desmond’s office. Chad disappeared behind the glass door
and Desmond continued on, pushing open another dark door. With the snap
of his fingers, the light diffused in the empty vast hall with mirrors and light
floors. It was empty—no equipment, no physical barriers to strengthen the
body, nothing.
Desmond stopped in the center of the room and turned, fixing his dark
brown eyes on me. In the dark, they had always looked black, but now their
true color was visible. This time he was wearing a tight uniform, different
from mine or the other trainers. Black, slightly loose trousers with two sets
of pockets, heavy boots, a belt with a sword hilt, and a short-sleeved shirt
emphasizing his trained body and the strange marks on his shoulders, like a
scar--a gash only slightly visible. Protection from the wrist to the elbow
covered part of the skin, and the vest formed a cross at the chest, giving
more protection to the back.
“For the first training, put this on.” Desmond waved his hand.
Near Desmond’s feet was a suit of armor and a large rucksack, which
had not been there before. So shadow magic could disguise things, maybe
even people. I picked up the armor from the floor and put it on. First, a
heavy vest that covered most of my chest, stomach, and back. I put it over
my head, but the ligaments in the back required tightening.
“Are you going to help or just stare?” My gaze went over my shoulder to
Desmond.
 Desmond stepped forward, standing behind me. He ran his fingertips
over my back, pushing my hair over my shoulder. His skin touched mine for
just a moment, and shivers rushed down my skin at the contact. Desmond
gripped the laces and pulled them tightly together so the vest was snug
against my body. The air he exhaled bounced against my shoulders, sweetly
sharp and bitter.
I bent to pick up the main armor—black, embellished with yellowish
ornaments at the chest and belly. It was heavier than I expected. The arms
were separately fitted, the metal extremely hard and layered at the
shoulders, and the edges were yellowish while everything else was black.
At the elbows, the material was looser, but down to the wrists again the
hard metal was etched with ornamental designs. With all the armor on my
body, I felt as if the pull of the earth had increased, but I stood my ground,
waiting for Desmond’s instructions.
“The clothing that Ascension players must wear on the surface weighs
twenty kilograms. No amount of physical training will prepare you for that.
For the first few days, we will let your body get used to the weight. Come
with me.” Desmond walked toward the exit of the gym.
The path led back to the second meeting room we had just returned from.
Strange sounds came from the participants’ wing, but Desmond’s
destination was not the gym. He led me behind a pillar and opened the door
leading to the surface.
“I thought this door was only unlocked from ten to eleven o’clock in the
evening,” I blurted.
“My name can open more doors than you can imagine.”
My body felt heavier as I climbed to the surface. Finally, we reached the
top. The white snow glistened in the sunlight and the cold bit my cheeks.
My breath formed little puffs of mist in front of my face. The mountain
stood proud above us, and meadows stretched as far as the eye could see
beyond this small, fenced area.
Desmond walked toward the high rock of the hill, his hands firmly
gripping the gaps, placing his feet on the small protrusions and slowly
climbing up. Just the view from below made me feel sick; it was like
climbing a six-story building without the ropes to guarantee safety.
“Time to climb up, Merkins.” Desmond paused to stare at me from up
high, his voice barely carrying over the wind. “Follow my lead.”
“Do you want to kill me?”
 “I’m not saying I don’t want to. Move, Merkins.”
I searched the rock outcroppings with my fingertips, slowly placing my
boots on the narrow protrusions and moving very slowly. The wind did not
improve the situation, and the snow on my face made me hesitate. Desmond
was halfway up, climbing fast without waiting for me, before finally
reaching the top and disappearing from view. With every handhold, I
wondered about the man’s training methods. My body was exhausted from
so little physical work, and the weight of the armor seemed to drag me
down. My fingers were frozen, numb, and sore.
As I reached for the highest point, my fingers slipped on the ice and I
lost my balance. I would surely die if I fell from such a height. At the very
least, I would break bones.
“Sword, Merkins!”
My hand landed on the hilt of my sword. My fingers traced the blade,
but nothing happened. Panic gripped me.
A dark shadow fell over me, and a black sword crashed into the rock.
Cold fingers wrapped around my wrist, and then my body hit the rock wall.
Pain lanced through me, but I wasn’t dead.
My gaze darted toward Desmond whose hand held mine, a glare from on
high aimed straight at me. “Get a grip, Merkins. We haven’t even reached
training time and you already want to give up.”
My legs found support, then my arms, and I finally reached the top. My
body ached from the impact, but the sight in front of me made me forget it.
White meadows. Giant forests in the distance. The outside world took my
breath away and made me forget everything around me.
“What happened there?”
Desmond’s voice startled me. Snow crunched under his boots as he
began walking. I hurried to follow. “The sword didn’t come out, even
though I did everything right.”
“Magic can’t always be trusted. Sometimes it becomes stronger,
sometimes weaker. First, you have to learn to control your body and your
mind.”
“Excellent advice, after you nearly had to have my body scraped off a
rock.”
Desmond said nothing, merely kept walking. I wondered if such trips
were allowed for Ascension participants or any residents of Eldmoor.
Leaving the city was treated as breaking a rule. The consequences of this
included not being able to return to the city and being left on the surface.
“Are we breaking the rules?” I ventured.
“Do you care about the rules? Or surviving the Ascension Games?”
Thirty meters later, a training yard came into view. Large structures,
wooden stairs, a log for balance, and obstacles forcing trainees to jump
from one support to another. Rings to train the strength of your arms to hold
your weight in the air, a moving target, ropes, and other obstacles I did not
understand. This was an obstacle course that would strengthen every
muscle. The only downside was the height. All these obstacles were level
with the window of a second-floor building. One wrong move would
guarantee dislocated joints or broken bones.
“Armor will protect against fall damage, but your body must learn to be
agile, strong, and enduring while wearing it. The day you overcome all
obstacles without falling, we will move on to magic training.” Desmond’s
gaze shifted from me to the obstacle course.
“My opponents are training with magic while I climb like a monkey?”
My annoyed tone of voice left my lips.
“Will your opponents be prepared for the cold that lies ahead? No. Will
your opponents’ bodies be equipped to carry twenty-five kilograms of
armor? No. Will your opponents be able to read the wind, climb steep
slopes, and react in critical situations when their minds go blank? No.
Training underground is meaningless. Participants must experience real
circumstances; that is the only way they will be able to survive. Go ahead,
Merkins.”
Now I understood why most of the participants had been discussing
Desmond’s training methods. They were as heavy as the weight of the
armor on my shoulders, the cold, my tired body, my wavering thoughts. It
would be much more comfortable to train inside, where it was warm and
there was no chance of breaking a leg or arm if I fell.
I squared my shoulders and climbed the steps to the first obstacle. It was
a log ten meters long. I stretched my arms out to the sides to balance my
weight evenly. My eyes met Desmond’s as I took my first step, and I
quickly returned my attention to the log beneath my feet. The distance to
the ground made my stomach roil.
“Don’t look down or you’ll fall,” Desmond ordered.
 A gust of wind threw off my balance, but I managed to stay in place. My
breathing sharpened, but I tried to calm down. There were still eight meters
to go. One step after another. Slow and steady.
Then my foot slipped.
I tried to land on my feet, but to no avail. I fell face-first to the ground,
and pain lanced up my arm and part of my face. I rolled onto my back,
breathing heavily, my heart pounding with fear and adrenaline.
Desmond stood over me, a look of displeasure on his cold features.
“Again.”
“It’s pointless. The log is frozen and slippery.” I rolled over and pushed
myself up, shaking the snow out of my tangled hair.
“You have to feel, not see. Again.”
My body ached, and my legs felt like two stones. I resisted the fatigue
and climbed up to the log again, eyes fixed forward and hands shaking.
“Close your eyes.” Desmond stared up at me, standing with his arms
crossed over his chest, intently watching my every move.
“Are you crazy?” There was panic in my voice.
The wind blew, and I maintained my balance, but suddenly my leg
seized with pain. It was enough to send me toppling back into the snow. My
chest was heaved, but I scrambled to my feet and climbed the steps again
without waiting for Desmond’s instruction.
One fall after another, the reasons for which varied from strong winds, a
shaky leg, slippery surfaces, and loss of balance due to the great distance
covered. I lost count of my crash landings after twenty-five and remained
lying in the snow, unable to get up.
“It’s time for us to go back inside, Merkins.” Desmond’s gaze drifted to
the sky. “I don’t think you want to meet any dragons during your first
training session.”
“No,” I snapped, and forced myself to get up. I stomped to the stairs,
legs trembling with each step. My hands were so cold they burned, but I
ignored them.
Arms outstretched, I picked my way across the log. Before my shoe
touched the surface, I could somehow feel the ice, the snow, and was able to
avoid slippery spots. Just a few steps and I would overcome the first
obstacle.
Rain fell from the sky, breaking my concentration. My foot slipped, and
I started falling. Some instinct had me grabbing the hilt of my sword. The
blade whistled in the twilight and I slammed it into the log. My fall stopped
abruptly, and my shoulder screamed at the sudden weight. Trembling, I
pulled my tired body up, hugging the log with my legs. I returned my hilt to
its scabbard and carefully stood, taking two final steps to reach the end of
the obstacle.
Clapping sounded from below, and I looked down at Desmond, whose
face was impassive. He merely gestured for me to follow him.
We descended the hill toward the door to the city as the rain turned to a
drizzle. I stopped a moment and looked up at the sky. The icy drops ran
down my face, washing away the mud, the exhaustion, and the cold.
A strange sound echoed in the darkness. My gaze jerked up to the sky
where a huge shadow loomed.
“Merkins! Inside, now!” Desmond grabbed my shoulder and shoved me
toward the door.
Just before he slammed it closed, I caught a glimpse of a crimson
dragon, its wings dissecting the clouds as it soared above us.
“Teirac,” Desmond snarled, and stalked down the corridor.
“Dragons have names?” I asked, scrambling after him.
“Yes. The biggest, the smartest, and the leaders.”
The smartest? My mind brimmed with questions, but I didn’t dare voice
them. We returned to the office, and I took off my armor, leaving it on the
table.
“Be in my office at five tomorrow morning.” Desmond lit a cigar and sat
down in the chair.
I nodded once before taking my leave. “Of course.”
My stomach growled as I walked down the corridor toward the bedroom
wing. First, I needed a shower. Badly.
As I cleaned up, I examined my collection of wounds from today’s
training. A gash on my cheek and a plethora of bruises on my back and
sides. I put on another uniform and glanced at the clock—seven pm—and
slipped back into the corridor to knock on Olin’s door. I couldn’t wait to tell
him about today.
There was no answer to my knock, and I heard no sound behind his door.
Maybe he was asleep.
Knowing full well there were no locks on these doors, I pushed the
handle and cracked it open to peer inside. Red light met my eyes. The bed
was empty, but my attention immediately went to the body lying on the
floor, a dark stain spreading from it.
My scream echoed in the corridor. “Olin!”

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 CHAPTER NINE
CLARA
“Blood is the least redemption; they should all be dead.”

I kneeled beside Olin and pressed my fingers to his neck. His pulse was
faint; he was still alive. With trembling hands, I put pressure on the stab
wounds in his chest and abdomen. Blood leaked between my fingers even
as my thoughts scrambled.
“Olin, no. Please...”
I could only think of our days on the lowest floor of Eldmoor. The hard,
exhausting days of work, the moments when my cheeks had ached with
laughter. The evenings when Olin had helped my mother when I had been
exhausted from work. When we had shared food, when we had cried, when
we had been on the verge of madness...
“Help,” I screamed.
Only silence answered.
I grabbed Olin’s shoulders, trying to lift him off the ground, tears rolling
down my cheeks. I knew it wasn’t right; puncture wounds were dangerous
and moving the victim could cause more bleeding. Were his vital organs
damaged? I didn’t know, but I couldn’t leave him on the floor. Then he
would surely bleed to death.
Just a few steps toward the door, my legs gave out. I was too exhausted
from the day’s training. I sank back to the floor and sobbed.
The door opened wide, revealing Bianor. He took one look and dropped
to his knees next to us. “Mervin, call the trainer,” he said over his shoulder.
Bianor carefully stretched Olin’s limbs and lifted his chin, pressing two
fingers to his skin. Then he placed his ear to Olin’s chest. “He has no
pulse.”
I shook my head in shock and disbelief. “He did a second ago.”
Bianor started artificial respiration. Thirty chest compressions, two puffs,
thirty chest compressions, two puffs. One hundred and twenty clicks a
minute, and the cycle repeated. Each minute lasted for what felt like an
eternity. Ascension participants gathered around, observing the situation
and whispering to each other. I just kneeled there, staring with glassy eyes
at the lifeless Olin. Who had done this? Only one name was on my mind—
Erasmus. He had recently threatened in the gym that Olin would pay for his
words.
Coach Roger showed up, continuing Bianor’s work, this time doing
many clicks a minute. Then he hauled Olin’s body into his arms and started
walking. “Everyone stay here. Information will be given when Olin has
recovered.”
I couldn’t leave Olin alone. I was the only person important to him.
Coach Roger glanced at me when I fell into step beside him but didn’t
slow down. “Clara, there is nothing you can do. The medics will take care
of him. Go back to the participants’ wing.”
I shook my head. “I’m all he has.”
“I’ll report the news as soon as I have any. They won’t let you in the
operating room anyway. I’ll find you when Olin is transferred to the ward.”
Reluctantly, I stopped, watching Roger hurry away with Olin in his arms.
Tears streamed down my face, blurring the image, until my best friend
disappeared. Then I walked slowly back to the participants’ wing.
Only to run into exactly who I wanted to see.
“He got what he deserved,” Erasmus said to Morgana as they walked
side by side down the corridor. “That’s what happens—”
“You,” I snarled. “You did this!”
I shoved him hard. Erasmus slammed into the corridor wall and
recovered quickly, stepping toward me with rage in his eyes.
“Enough.” Bianor’s heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
“Keep your bitch on a short leash,” Morgana snapped.
Bianor didn’t answer. Instead, he gently nudged me forward. “Go ahead,
Clara.”
Gritting my teeth, I kept walking. At the crossroads of the corridors, my
rage and sorrow got the better of me. I staggered to the wall and pressed my
back against it, sliding to the ground. Great, heaving sobs escaped me and I
covered my face with my hands.
This couldn’t be happening. Olin had to stay alive. He had to fight.
I bit back a scream as my heart broke in two. With every blink, I saw his
bloody body on the floor of his room. My gaze went to my hands, stained
red, and I tried to wipe them clean on my uniform. Perhaps it would ease
the pain in my chest.
 “Clara,” Bianor’s voice said gently.
“Get out of here, Bianor.”
“It’s not Erasmus’s fault, nor the fault of any of the participants.”
Bianor’s footsteps moved away.
I remained where I was, the tiles icy against my back. Participants
passed, whispering softly to each other, but time stood still for me. I didn’t
have the strength nor willpower to move. Every breath was like shards of
glass in my chest, and there was nothing but silence in my head.
“Merkins, get up. You’ve had enough of lying on the floor.” Desmond’s
voice sounded so close it made me jump.
I blinked up at him. “Now is not the time.”
“Not the time?” His voice was full of contempt. “When someone dies
during the Games, will you lie in the snow and cry? In my office in ten
minutes.” His footsteps faded away.
Reluctantly, I pushed myself off the ground and returned to my bedroom,
taking a shower and watching as the water went from red to pink to clear. I
braided my damp hair, opened the door, and studiously kept my gaze away
from Olin’s door.
Down the corridor, in the distance, Roger hurried toward me, his face a
mask of worry.
I rushed to meet him. “Coach, is there any news?”
“Olin’s condition is still critical. He hasn’t regained consciousness,
though the operation was successful. He’s being monitored in intensive
care.” Roger put his hand on my shoulder and then kept walking. “See you
later. Take care.”
Mind spinning, I continued my trek to Desmond’s office. I knocked on
the dark office door and opened it without waiting for an answer. The room
was lit by a few candles. Desmond stood leaning against the desk, and his
gaze met mine as he slid the armor toward me.
I put on the armor and waited for further instructions. My body felt twice
as heavy as yesterday, exhausted from training and sleeping on the
uncomfortable floor.
Desmond merely looked at me. “Not only were you late, but you slept in
the corridor, breaking the rules.”
“My best friend was....”
“Enough. This Game is not about your best friend. Want to survive? Stop
putting unnecessary thoughts in your head and concentrate. When one of
your teammates is in trouble, on the verge of death, lying with a stab
wound, a severed leg, or brutally wounded by a dragon, you’ll have to
control yourself.”
“How can such a cold, cruel person give advice? How can you talk about
friendship and feelings when inside you are just ice?” I demanded.
“This is what a week on the surface turns you into.”
“It’s not the Games; it’s being born emotionless, just like your father.
Torturing others, telling lies, making impossible promises. Standing so
proud, shouting your truth. Believing the lies you spread, venting your
angry feelings, forcing grueling workouts, ignoring your psychological state
and feelings.”
“Looking for sympathy? A gentle hand? Not in this place, Merkins.
Don’t compare me to my father. You don’t know me or him.” Desmond’s
voice was filled with bitter anger. “I’m teaching you to survive, to toughen
up. This is not soft training, with tea breaks and talking about your feelings.
I am doing my job to prepare you for the games. It is your responsibility to
do your best.” Desmond walked toward me, purple flames dancing in his
brown eyes.
I lifted my chin. “Fuck you, Desmond.”
“Is that what you want?”
Desmond took a step closer. My back was against the table. I had
nowhere to retreat, but I wasn’t going to anymore. Desmond didn’t seem to
care about other people’s feelings, fatigue, or emotions. Well, I wouldn’t be
anyone’s puppet.
“I’d choose my words carefully if I were you, Merkins.”
“You think I’m afraid of you? Your dark appearance? Your shadow
magic? Your title and the things people whisper about you?” I stared
intently into his violet-brown eyes, feeling his warm breath on my skin.
“What you see is only a small part of my inner demons, Merkins.”
Desmond’s eyes darkened. “Now get out of here.”
Heart racing, I stomped out of the office. My feet moved of their own
volition, through the meeting rooms, and stopped at the door leading
outside. I didn’t expect it to be unlocked, but it opened easily, and I hurried
toward the surface. I had to occupy my body so my thoughts wouldn’t have
the chance to attack me.
As sunlight met my face, I carefully made my way up the hill, then down
the slope and onto the training field. Without the heavy armor, I conquered
the first obstacle easily. Next was a series of eight rings. I had to swing my
body weight across the expanse. I grabbed the first one, pushing myself off
the safety aisle, and made it through the first three rings before my arms got
tired and I slipped.
I repeated the process over and over again until finally my hands
trembled and became blistered and rough. Then I lay on the snow after yet
another fall, emotionally and physically exhausted.
It was all so frustrating—the secrets, the assaults, the system that had
been strangling me since day one.
When my muscles began to stiffen, I forced myself to get up and make
my way back to Eldmoor. Slowly, I climbed down the rough surface toward
the door. The last five steps down, the rock crumbled. I lost my footing and
slammed to the ground. Pain shot through me, and I screamed.
The temperature outside was dropping rapidly, and evening shadows
were quickly falling over the mountains and meadows. I tried to get up, but
my body wouldn’t obey. One minute I felt a shiver of cold; the next, a surge
of heat. Against my better judgment, my eyelids became heavy. Surely I
could rest for a moment. Recover.
Everything around me became dark, calm, and silent. I drowned in the
darkness, letting her envelop me completely, not resisting, feeling the whole
world merge, unravel.
I opened my eyes with difficulty. The light in the room was red, and my
gaze went to the clock. Four in the morning. How had I ended up in my
room? Had one of the participants decided to visit the surface and found me
lying there?
A bottle of water sat on the bedside table, a pill beside it. I was skeptical
about this, but it should help. I took a cool shower, changed into my
uniform, and left my hair to dry. By the time I made my way toward the
canteen, my body felt much better. Was it the pill? Probably.
Food at this time of day was minimal—a table with thermoses, various
types of sandwiches, biscuits, muffins, jam tarts, and bread. I didn’t have
much of an appetite, but I had to eat for my body to recover faster. Four
sandwiches and a cup of tea later, Bianor’s words returned to me—that
Olin’s attack wasn’t the work of Ascension Games participants. Then who?
Who could have done this? Had Olin been an accidental victim?
As if my thoughts had summoned him, Bianor entered the canteen. I
watched him make a cup of tea, and then he sat beside me.
 “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“My best friend in intensive care and training with Desmond was
canceled.” I sighed. “Probably the wrong question.”
“This isn’t the first time this has happened, Clara. One of the participants
in the last Games was found murdered. It wasn’t one of the participants;
that’s what the coaches said when they looked at the camera footage.”
Bianor put the cup to his lips.
“What cameras?”
“Don’t tell me you thought people lived so freely on this floor.” Bianor
shook his head. “There are cameras in the most important rooms—the
corridors, assembly hall, and in the more sophisticated public training
rooms. If this place wasn’t being monitored, we’d probably all be dead by
now.”
“You’re saying a man died, which means the cameras must have caught
at least one suspect. Just like Olin’s attack. If the cameras are actually in the
corridor, if you rewind the videos you can see who entered his room at the
time.”
“You’re right, but it’s not that simple.” Bianor shook his head. “The
perpetrators are being hidden. The huge question is, will they be punished?
Or are they just in favor of Lazarus? Either way, there is nothing we can
do.”
“My best friend’s life is hanging by a thread, and the culprits will be
covered up?” I clenched my jaw. “When Olin wakes up, he’ll be able to tell
us who did it. Then the moment of justice will come.”
“I’m sure it was done with a purpose. Everyone at the Games had a solid
alibi when the attack took place, and it didn’t happen in the middle of the
night. We see each other all the time in the lounge and in the training room.
Even Roger confirmed this was not the work of the participants. So the
attacker must be from this floor. Have you noticed any strange or unfamiliar
people around you lately when you have been training with Desmond?”
“Desmond hates me. Chad’s his best friend; I’ve only seen him a few
times. I’m sure if these people wanted me to suffer, it would’ve been me
they attacked. They wouldn’t target my best friend; they’d rather watch the
fear and pain take over my whole body.”
“Another attack will slip by if there are no perpetrators caught, and this
event will remain only a memory in the minds of the Ascension
participants.” There was disappointment in Bianor’s voice.
 “I won’t leave it at that.”
“Not now, Clara, okay? I think your life has become difficult enough in
the last few days. Don’t make it any harder on yourself. It doesn’t seem
wise to arouse suspicion about your actions. If you anger the higher-ups by
asking questions, they will see you as a threat. Trust me on that.”
I could see the pain in Bianor’s eyes, as if he knew what had happened
during the preparations for the last Games when one of the participants was
killed. His body language betrayed him, but I decided not to press him. I
didn’t want to open any old wounds.
“Thank you, but this is my closest friend. My family. I won’t leave it like
this. I’ve lived with guilt for many years, sometimes almost believing the
lies about my past. One way or another, I will find justice. I will find out
who did this to my best friend, even if it costs me my life.”
“Fine, but before you decide to plunge into a suicide loop, let me tell you
a story.” Bianor leaned back in his chair. “It happened...”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, like I was being watched. I
darted a look around the room, toward the figure lurking in the darkest
corner of the café. Toward the man who...

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 CHAPTER TEN
DESMOND
A strange feeling bloomed inside me. That tense look—it was as if she
could see me.
Using the shadows, I had wandered around Eldmoor, running into Clara
and Bianor sitting in the dining hall.
I opened my eyes, looking up at the dark ceiling. That feeling… could it
be true? Magic could be seen, felt, and detected, but it took special training.
It was probably just the result of my sleepless nights.
I closed my eyes and rolled onto my other side, trying to get
comfortable. A deep sigh left my lips. Sleep wasn’t happening tonight, so I
put on my normal uniform and stepped out of my room. Cigar at my lips, I
blew out thick sweet smoke. My body instantly relaxed. I took out a small
brown book, tightly wrapped with laces. I let my mind wander, describing
what no longer fit in my head. I couldn’t avoid the fragments of my past
that accumulated inside and started making a mess. It was strange, stupid,
painful, and selfish to lynch a son because of his looks. To be in last place,
always, every time. Life before the war had been completely different. I had
been free, loved, and happy. But everything had changed the moment I
stepped through the threshold of Eldmoor. The moment my mother died,
my father had become unrecognizable. Was it agony? A petrified heart?
Even after all these years, I searched for the real reason, but I always hit a
wall. Every day I had to prove my worth, my talent, my strength, my
obedience, my affection, and that I deserved the place I was in. That I am
worthy of staying up there, worthy of being called a Callahan. Something
had clicked inside me, like a little switch turning everything upside down.
From then on, every word spoken, every action, everything had been in my
favor. As I became more and more aware of my father, of his wishes, his
aspirations, and his plans, I became more and more self-absorbed. This was
Eldmoorian society—a bunch of beasts. Be first or be dead. Be selfish or be
torn apart by wolves. Be strong or be a victim. That was how the cold layer
of ice covered my skin like a shield, securing my position in this society.
The ten-year-old boy who had once longed for love now refused it. Now he
was buried ten meters underground and would never return.
 A knock on the door caused my pen to pause over the page. I turned my
gaze to turn toward the door. “Chad, go to bed. It’s still early in the
morning. Don’t bother me.”
“Desmond.” Lazarus’s voice. “Open the door.”
Father?
Lips pressed into a single line, I waved my hand to loosen the shadows
from the handles that guaranteed my safety at night.
My father’s thick aura entered first, the Twilight magic palpable in the
room before his face shifted to one of disgust. He waved his hand at my
older brother and the guard, telling them to stay behind the door.
“Is this any way to greet your father?” Lazarus crossed his arms over his
chest, looking directly at me.
“You’re in my office. I’m not going to listen to your orders.”
“Don’t you feel a drop of love for your father? Respect?”
“All that ended a long time ago. I learned from the best, Dad.” My
eyebrow rose.” What do you need? You don’t show up in my office without
a reason.”
“Your chosen participant is not suitable.”
My heart lurched, but I didn’t let it show. “It is my decision and has
already been implemented.”
“How could you do such a foolish thing? To train a woman who should
be dead? Who will bet on her name? How could you sully our name by
choosing her?” The wrinkles on my father’s face deepened.
“You told me to choose. I did. Now stop wasting my precious time and
get out of my office.”
“You will not train that traitor. That woman’s past has brought only
agony to humanity.” Father stepped forward, approaching my chair. “You
know the whole story, yet you put the knife in my back without even
hesitating.”
“Clara is my choice. If you’re unhappy with that, it’s not my problem.
Just like every year, I choose the person I train to entertain you and the
marionettes sitting on the top floor of Eldmoor.” I regarded him coldly. “Or
perhaps I need to inadvertently let someone in on the secrets of your rule?
Missing people? Money laundering? The people of Eldmoor would quickly
become your enemy.”
“You wouldn’t dare do that. You grew up in this town. Are you a fool? If
you spread the word, everything would fall apart, this city would collapse,
and humanity would become unmanageable. What would happen then?
Would we live peacefully with the dragons on the surface of the earth?”
Father’s lips pressed into a single line. “Stop being an arrogant and
conceited child, Desmond. That woman will bring only death into your life.
The day will come when you will crawl to me on your knees and ask that
she be killed. You are a family disgrace. Mark my words.” My father turned
on his heel and stalked out the office door.
I never missed an opportunity to infuriate my father. I hated being told
what to do, and when others pointed fingers at my choices, my opinions,
and my actions. Satisfaction filled me. In the past, seeing his face distorted
with anger had caused paralyzing fear inside me. His raised voice had once
made me cringe, but now...
My thoughts turned in another direction. Would Clara show up at the
training? Silly question; of course she would, if she wanted to stay alive in
the Ascension Games. She would have to drop the ego and hide her feelings
and hot-headed character to step through my office door.
The road from my office led directly to the gym. Lights flashed and my
shadow sword was in hand as I unleashed magic attacks one after another.
Each movement was precise, fast, thus training my body’s muscle memory.
My thoughts were focused, my magic lethal.
A few hours passed. My body was exhausted, so I returned to my room
and took a shower. I wrapped a towel around my waist, leaving the excess
water to dry on my hair and body.
A knock sounded at the door. Roger with another person who had broken
the rules?
“Come in,” I called, settling onto the black sofa.
The door opened and Clara boldly walked in. I got up from the sofa,
stifling a yawn. She had decided to come back to training faster than I
expected; she wasn’t so stubborn after all.
Clara’s gaze met my eyes, then drifted down to my bar chest. Her lips
formed the letter O.
“Clean up your drool, Merkins.” My gaze slid from her eyes to the nape
of her neck and then back, and I allowed a small smile. “Speechless?”
“I don’t see anything special.” Clara rolled her eyes and grabbed the
pendant around her neck. “What is this symbol?”
I got up from the couch, shortening the distance between us. I could feel
Clara’s gaze traveling over my body. She was having such a hard time
keeping her attention focused on my face, and of course her gaze kept
drifting to the scar on my left shoulder. The black line extended from my
shoulder, stretching across my chest and back like black lightning. It was
courtesy of the Shadow Dragon, an attack I hadn’t expected and had paid
the price for.
“Why do you suddenly want to know about this symbol, Clara? It’s none
of my business, if I remember correctly.”
“This symbol was found in my best friend’s room, painted on the wall. I
don’t know what it means, but it must be connected to the attacker.”
I considered. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you what the symbol is when
you’ve gone through the entire obstacle course up on the surface.”
“The attacker is walking between these walls, and all you can think
about is training?” Clara demanded.
“You’re right. The attacker is walking between these walls, but he’s not
going anywhere. In a day, in a week, he will still be in this place. It’s up to
you whether you walk out the door with nothing or earn the answers you
seek.” I took a step closer, creating pressure.
Her eyes flashed, and she grabbed the armor off the table and stomped
toward the door. “You’re a selfish person.”
“That was a very loud acceptance of my offer,” I called after her as the
door slammed shut.
Back in the bedroom, I put on my uniform and walked down the corridor
toward the meeting room.
Clara leaned against one of the columns, staring blankly at the wall.
“You’re late,” she said flatly.
“You barged into my office demanding answers, and now you’re
complaining?” I shook my head as I unlocked the door leading to the
surface.
This time, the uphill climb was uneventful. Clara seemed to be
practicing, probably during the hours the door was open. She quickly
conquered the first two obstacles, the log and the rings.
The next task consisted of columns of different heights, footholds, size,
and surface materials. After two steps, Clara hit the ground with a thud,
rose, and started again. One fall after another, and with each impact,
Merkins found it increasingly difficult to get off the ground and overcome
the first two obstacles to reach the third.
 After the next fall, she screamed her anger and frustration. Each obstacle
was designed to be more difficult than the next. The more you overcame,
the more exhausted your body became.
“Get up, Merkins,” I said, walking on the thin surface of the snow.
“You’ll never get an answer if you don’t.”
“You should train me, not watch and enjoy when I make mistakes.”
Clara’s angry gaze fixed on me.
“I don’t think you’re getting any use out of my advice, Merkins. You’re
too stubborn.” I extended my hand toward her.
“You suggested I close my eyes when overcoming the log, which
guaranteed my fall.” Clara pushed herself off the ground, ignoring my offer
for help.
“A newcomer might think so, but I have experience with these obstacles.
Your fear is what makes you fall. If you walk with your eyes closed, slowly
and carefully, your body can quickly recognize and get used to the
distinctive surfaces, sending signals to your brain about what to do next.
The first five or ten times are enough. When you open your eyes, your body
gets used to it much more slowly because the first thing you rely on is sight,
not touch.”
“What’s your advice now, then, coach?” Clara turned, heading for the
first obstacle.
“You tell me, Merkins. What does your gut say? Your instinct?” I
crossed my arms over my chest, watching as she made her way up the steps.
“Just give me some advice.” Clara‘s gaze is fixed on me.
“When you‘re out there alone,”—I pointed to the distant meadows and
forests—”I’m sure you’ll think of me and my words.”
Clara shook her head, clearly disagreeing with my opinion, but held her
own between pursed lips. This time, she took time to assess the situation
before she attempted the third hurdle, using only sight and the distribution
of force by pushing off the surface.
The last task was an islet with a target three meters away, hanging a little
higher.
“Draw your sword during the jump and swing it straight into the middle
to complete the course,” I instructed.
“It’s a long jump,” Clara said doubtfully.
Clara took a step back, using the entire length of the islet, which was
exactly one step back. Then she leaped. It seemed fine until the sword got
stuck and she fell. She pushed herself up and began marching toward the
start, but I rested my hand on her shoulder.
“If you keep this up, you won’t even make it past the first hurdle. We’ll
continue tomorrow, Merkins.”
“I won’t stop until I get an answer.” Clara shoved my hand away.
“You have to know when to back down.”
“I won’t stop until I find out who tried to kill my best friend.” Clara
marched toward the start of the course again.
I shook my head and started climbing the hill. “See you tomorrow,
Merkins.”
The crashes continued in the distance as I returned to the door that led
back into Eldmoor. I settled beside it, watching the trees swaying in the
distance and the setting sun. Evening was approaching; soon it would be
dangerous out here. Teirac would soon slip out of his cave, scattering the
night clouds with his mighty wings. I sat, patiently waiting for Clara to give
up. Closing my eyes, I let the shadows of the evening climb over my face. I
couldn’t leave her here. It was too dangerous. If she died, I’d be left not
knowing where she had gotten that pendant.
Footsteps soon sounded behind me, forcing me to get up from my sitting
position.
“I made it through the whole obstacle course,” Clara’s uneven voice
said. “You missed it.”
“Why do you think I missed it?” My eyebrow rose at the sight of Clara
struggling to regain her breath as she reached the bottom of the hill.
“So your magic allows you to observe your surroundings? You didn’t
leave me alone. Could it be that you care about me?”
“No,” I said shortly.
“I want my answer now.” Clara stepped forward, shortening the distance
between us. “What does this symbol mean?”
“It is the symbol of the founder of Eldmoor, made by my father. It
represents the three dragons—White Flame, Shadows, and Twilight. Now
answer me; why does this symbol belong to you? My father founded
Eldmoor. He is the only one who has this symbol on his neck. It is known
only to a few. How does a woman like you have it?”
“I never agreed to answer any of your questions,” Clara said with a
sniff.
 Anger flared. I grabbed Clara’s uniform, spinning us both around. One
step back and she would fall down the hill. “Don’t try my patience,
Merkins. You carry an important relic with you, so choose your words
carefully. Where did you get the symbol of the founder of Eldmoor?” My
attention went to the pendant and then back to Clara’s face.
“You want to kill me?” Clara glanced over her shoulder toward the rocks
below. “Do it. You’ve become the favorite of Eldmoor. Everyone wants me
dead.”
I stepped forward, holding Clara by her uniform with her legs dangling
in the air. There was no fear or hatred in the woman’s blue eyes. Those eyes
of hers shone with misplaced confidence in me.
Clara didn’t break eye contact as my fingers released her uniform and
sent her straight to her death.

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 CHAPTER ELEVEN
CLARA
“Finding you will mean revealing the truth.”

Desmond had let me go—without hesitation, without emotion.

I drew my sword and plunged it into the rock, then slammed my feet
against the side of the mountain to avoid a collision. My heart pounded like
crazy in my chest, and my breathing was uneven.
One by one, I found the anchor points with my hands, put the sword
back in place, and climbed up. The reminder not to try Desmond’s patience
was burned into my mind. Damned man; I could have died.
My feet hit solid ground. The path was empty, and I forced my exhausted
body to return to the underground city. I had gotten the answer I wanted, but
it had only raised more questions.
I returned to my bedroom, took a shower, and decided to take a nap
before heading to the canteen. I put my sword between the wall and the bed,
then stared up at the red ceiling. The symbol of Eldmoor’s founder around
my neck kept my mind busy, along with knowing many people wanted me
dead and that Olin’s attacker was walking between Eldmoor’s walls. All
these details kept me awake when my body needed rest.
Bianor had told me that story about the man in his forties who had been
brutally murdered before the start of a previous Ascension Games. The
reasons were still unclear, and the perpetrator had never been found. Even
when Bianor had demanded answers, unable to leave it at that, all doors had
been closed in his face. Punishments were handed out one after the other as
the questions formed in his mouth.
The city of Eldmoor was dangerous with its hypocrites, injustice, lies,
corruption, disappearances, and even murder.
My eyelids grew heavy, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I had the feeling of
being watched, as if I wasn’t the only one in this room. Finally, my body
gave in, unable to stand the exhaustion.
A loud knocking made me wince, and my hand immediately went to my
sword. The knocking sounded again. Not another attack—just a visitor.
 Getting out of bed, I opened the door to find Coach Roger standing in
the hall. “Clara, it’s time to visit Olin.”
Onward I went, past the main halls, Desmond’s office, the training room,
the glass doors, one after the other, and there was my best friend lying in the
medical ward. My heart squeezed.
Olin was hooked up to the hospital machines in an empty white room
with bright lights. His face was pale, and dark purple circles had formed
under his eyes. Those eyes were barely open.
Roger swiped his card to unlock the door and my legs carried me inside
of their own volition. I kneeled by the bed and grabbed Olin’s hand, my
eyes burning with unshed tears.
“Olin, it’s Clara. I’m so sorry... This shouldn’t have happened.”
“Clara?” Olin’s voice was gravelly, but one corner of his lips lifted.
“How are you? That must have been horrible. I should have been there.
It’s my fault. It’s—” I shook my head, unable to continued around the lump
in my throat.
“I’m fine. It was just a rough night. I’m all right, Clara.” His hand landed
on my hair, gently stroking it.
Just like the days when I had nightmares about my dad’s death. Olin had
always stroked my hair to calm me down.
“Do you remember who did it?” I asked hesitantly.
“You look terrible, Clara. Is Desmond treating you well? Those cuts and
bruises on your face...”
I was always most important to him, even when he had it twice as bad.
That was why he ignored my question and changed the subject, caring for
me as if I were still that little fragile girl torn from her father’s arms.
“Olin…”
“Be strong, Clara. I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t let yourself be pushed
around.” Olin’s voice softened. “I want to rest a little. Just a little.” His
hand slipped from my hair onto the bed.
It was hard—damn hard—to see Olin so broken. The man who had
always cared and believed in me was now in such a tragic state. I closed my
eyes and laid my head on Olin’s chest, listening to his steady breathing and
the slow thud of his heart. I tried to convince myself that everything would
be all right, but the tears wouldn’t stop.
“Clara, it’s time to go,” Roger said gently from behind me. “Olin needs
rest.”
 I pushed myself up from the floor, reluctantly making my way toward
the glass door leading out of the ward. I could feel Roger’s gaze fixed on
me, full of compassion, anxiety, and concern.
“Dark hands,” Olin whispered.
I turned back, ready to ask him to repeat that, but his eyes were still
closed.
“Scarred face,” he continued, tossing his head back and forth on the
pillow. “He’s a monster. He’s guilty. No! Stop! You can’t!”
Machines began beeping. Olin’s body seized, and doctors rushed into the
ward. I started toward him. He was clearly having memories of the attack.
Roger’s strong hand stopped me, and I was forcibly led out of the ward.
“No,” I said, trying to yank my arm out of his grip. “He needs me.”
The door closed, blocking any access inside. I could only see many
white coats as a team of doctors converged on my best friend’s hospital bed.
I cried out, a wordless plea to let me inside.
“Clara, it’s time for you to leave,” Roger said calmly. “There is nothing
you can do. The doctors will help Olin, but there’s little chance he’ll be able
to participate in the Games.”
I wanted to be happy that Olin would stay here and get well, that he
wouldn’t have to risk his life fighting dragons. But how could I go to the
surface knowing I would be alone? How could I go forward knowing that
Olin would be left here, alone among these cold walls, with dangerous
people and perhaps even death itself waiting around the corner?
I forced myself to start walking, feeling empty inside. We went through
the glass doors, down the familiar corridors toward the canteen, and Roger
left me halfway without saying a word.
“Clara, wait,” a male voice called after me.
My gaze went to the brown-haired guy, whose face I immediately
recognized as Mervin. He was a friend of Cecilly’s from the lowest floor of
Eldmoor. That was all I knew about him.
“Are you all right?” Mervin stopped a few meters away. “I just wanted to
make sure you were feeling okay.”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Mervin’s face seemed friendly, but something about him set my stomach
tumbling.
“I didn’t get to meet you the morning before you trained. I just wanted to
make sure your head was still attached to your shoulders. It must have hurt
to slip on the snow and lie unconscious. Did you catch a cold?”
I blinked. He was the one who had brought me inside after I fell down
the steep mountain wall. The day I was alone, training and lost
consciousness, letting the cold get to me. “Thank you for not leaving me.”
“You look tragic, pale, tired, and I can even say you were probably
crying a few minutes ago. Is there anything I can do?” Mervin caught up
with me as I began walking again.
“I know this isn’t the first time you’ve participated in the Ascension
Games,” I said. “You’re well-established on this floor. You should stay
away from me if you don’t want to ruin your status.”
“Of course. It was nice to meet you. If you ever need anything, find me.”
Mervin turned on his heel, disappearing down the corridor.
Morgana and Cole were sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria. I took
my tray of hot food to the opposite side. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but
it had to be at least noon if Morgana and Cole were awake for the day. I
should have been in training with Desmond a few hours ago. After what had
happened yesterday, I wasn’t bothered in the slightest that I was here and
not with him. That bastard was supposed to be training me, not trying to kill
me.
I sighed and sipped my coffee. Why did my mother have a pendant
belonging to the founder of Eldmoor? As if my surname wasn’t enough;
now some people would have even more reason to hate me.
I returned my empty plates and walked toward the bedrooms. The red
light came on as I opened my door, and I scowled at the shadow on my bed.
“Didn’t your father teach you it’s not nice to break into other people’s
bedrooms? Oh, wait—that’s exactly what your father taught you.”
“You skipped training. Do you want to die so badly?” Desmond’s gaze
narrowed on me.
“It seems the guillotine becomes my best friend the more I see you.
Don’t you think your act of throwing me off the mountain was crazy?” I
crossed my arms and stopped in the middle of the room.
“You think I’m crazy? You think I would have thrown you if I didn’t
know you could handle the situation?”
“I don’t believe a word you say.”
“I’ve been training you for more than three days, which means more
than six times climbing back and forth up the wall. Your body knows what
to do, even if your brain shuts down in a state of panic.” Desmond slid off
my bed and walked toward the door. “Time for magic lessons. Follow me,
Merkins.”
“You tried to kill me, treat me like your worst enemy, and yet you waste
your time training me.” I followed Desmond out of my room. I wanted to
stay, to rest, to let my mind wander, but I couldn’t afford it. Desmond’s
methods were questionable, and I hated him with every fiber of my being,
but I had to be ready for the Games. Desmond knew what to expect, as
much as I hated to admit it. So I would continue to suffer through his
training.
“You are not a waste of time.” Desmond’s voice echoed down the
corridor.
The only word that prompted me to follow him was magic. The desire to
learn how to use it, to learn more, which I would certainly need when the
dragons appeared.
Desmond led me to a training hall with lots of mirrors, empty
surroundings, and white tiles. He stopped in the middle and turned to me,
fixing me with his brown gaze. “Your biggest enemy in Ascension will be
the dragons from one point to the next. Only when you reach the halfway
point and the endpoint will you have to fight against the opposing group.
First magic, then one-on-one combat without weapons. Do you
understand?”
I squared my shoulders. “Yes.”
“Let’s start with white fire magic and the dragon. Take this information
in the first time. I won’t repeat it. Each day we will learn about a different
magic, letting you know what to expect from both enemies—humans and
dragons.”
Desmond drew his sword. His palm and the black blade were entwined
with purple fickle threads. The black and purple sword seemed to cast a
spell on me, not allowing me to take my eyes off it or concentrate. The
energy from the sword pulsed, and my ears rang. A strange feeling began to
rise in my chest.
“Merkins, concentrate.”
I snapped my attention back to Desmond.
“The white fire dragon you’ve already met is Teirac. He is the leader—
the most intelligent, the most dangerous, the one the other white fire
dragons obey. They are never alone. If you see one, look out for a second. It
is easy to recognize because it’s the largest in appearance and only the
edges of its scales burn with small white flames.”
“Teirac’s appearance is truly unforgettable,” I said bitterly. I would never
forget the crimson dragon who had killed my father, who reigned on the
face of the earth as if he owned the whole world.
“Teirac is known for its two main fire attacks. You must adjust for the
fireball emanating from its jaws within a millisecond. This fireball destroys
every living thing, reducing it to ash. The second attack is called the quake,
when Teirac’s two front paws strike the ground. Everything around it heats
up and melts within a five-meter radius, ten meters is where flames begin to
rise from the ground, and fifteen meters is the safest distance.”
“Are the smaller white fire dragons that dangerous, too?” I asked.
“The smaller ones are faster. They spit fire, but it’s not as deadly. It can
be deflected. I’d advise you to watch out for their jaws and claws. They
tend to use the power of their bodies rather than magic.” Desmond’s voice
was curt. Bored. As if he’d repeated this a thousand times. “Now let’s get to
the sword magic.”
I wanted action, suspense, and a chance to try the sword and apply my
knowledge, but I had to wait patiently. This information was important;
very few people in Eldmoor knew it.
“Each magic has three combinations—two for attack and one for self-
defense. Thrust your sword into the ground, but do it at the same time one
knee reaches the ground.” Desmond took a few steps back, holding the hilt
of his sword to his chest and the other outstretched palm toward me.
In one swift action, I kneeled with my sword pointed at the ground.
White flames spread around, burning unevenly. It was as if the energy was
being sucked out of my body. Desmond stood a distance away, a black and
purple shield shimmering to protect him from the hot flames. I drew my
sword from the ground and returned it to its normal position, reeling from
the drain.
“Breathe.” Desmond lowered his sword. “Every magic attack must be
based on the energy of your body. You’ll feel better in a few minutes. Next
attack—draw your sword toward me, bring one hand to the hilt of your
sword with your fist, and then turn your fist into an outstretched palm
toward me.”
My chest heaved like crazy. It felt as if I was running out of air, but I
tried to manage my uneven breathing. I pointed my sword at Desmond, my
hand going from a fist to a palm. A fireball ricocheted off the sword’s blade,
a burst of energy so powerful it knocked me off my feet. A ball of white fire
flew toward Desmond. He raised his hand above his head, two fingers
pointing down, and black spikes fell from the ceiling, destroying the ball of
fire.
“Are your legs shaking, Merkins?” The corner of Desmond’s lips lifted.
“It’s just practice.”
“You have some very nasty habits, Desmond. This is the first time I’ve
come across magic.” I pushed myself off the ground.
“Remember my first self-defense combination and use it when you think
it’s appropriate.” Desmond took half a step back, kneeled, tilted the sword
to the side, and put his palm to the hilt. Five clones of him appeared in the
room, making my head spin.
“That’s cheating,” I blurted as my gaze lingered on each Desmond clone.
The Desmonds drew their swords and pointed them toward me. Which
one was real? They slapped the hilts, and five purple and black balls
instantly appeared, traveling toward me.
I brought my sword hand to my chest, the other extended forward. A
hemisphere of fire formed around me, and all the shadow balls collided
with it, instantly disappearing. My gaze converged on one, the only one that
my hemispherical fire shield did not reach. I turned, repeating the attack I
had made before.
The shadow and white fireballs collided, and a huge burst of energy
blasted me into a wall.
What the hell was that? An unpleasant sound rang in my ears, the double
echo of footsteps approaching. My gaze drifted toward the approaching
blurred figure.
Desmond kneeled in front of me, swimming in and out of focus. “It was
stupid, but....”
I lost consciousness before I could hear the rest.

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 CHAPTER TWELVE
CLARA
“The goals were shared, but you took a different path.”

I opened my eyes to red. The last thing I remembered was a huge burst
of energy and my body slamming against the wall. My gaze drifted to the
clock, which read eleven o’clock in the evening. I must have been
unconscious for several hours.
I got up and took a shower, changed from my uniform to my
nightclothes, and went back to bed. My head ached and my muscles burned
with fatigue. I closed my eyes, fingering the pendant around my neck.
Scarred face, scarred hands…
Olin’s words rolled around in my head.
Desmond.
My eyes opened wide as my heart started beating faster. The symbol in
Olin’s room was that of the founder of Eldmoor, but it might have been his
bloodline, too.
No, Desmond’s hands didn’t have scars; just his face. But the attacker
had to be from this floor. I couldn’t accept the idea that he would go
unpunished.
My eyes closed a little at a time, and my body demanded rest. Despite
my worries, I succumbed to sleep.
The alarm clock announced five o’clock in the morning. I climbed out of
bed, took a short shower, and changed into my uniform for the day. With
heavy laced-up shoes on, I hurried down the corridors toward Desmond’s
office. He was waiting in the corridor, lurking in the shadows as usual.
“Good morning, Coach.”
“Merkins, we have a problem.” Desmond’s voice was emotionless, his
gaze fixed on me still approaching.
“Well, my problems aren’t your problems.”
“I forgot to inform you about the Ascension Games Ball. It will be held
tonight at five o’clock. We have to get ready.”
 “A party?” I stopped a few meters away from where he leaned against
the wall. “What a terrible way to celebrate impending death.”
“This is your last chance to see your mother, as the relatives of the
Games participants will be invited. The residents of the upper floors of
Eldmoor will also be attending. The impression you make on them will
determine your prize money.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I need to ensure I’m ready for the
Games and have at least a fifty percent chance of survival before I try to
impress anyone.”
“That will increase your chance of success to fifty percent. Now let’s get
going—on to women’s business.” Desmond rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t
believe his words.
“The whole party’s just a reason to see the attendees, right? How does it
work?” I walked beside Desmond toward the glass door.
“Gambling,” Desmond said shortly.
“Why do you care? You don’t seem to be the life of the party.”
“I’m Lazarus’s son. Everyone’s waiting for me to make a mistake, but
it’s never happened before.” Desmond turned left toward another glass
door.
“Lie. You’ve already made the mistake of choosing me. The whole city
wants me and my family dead, desecrated in public. No one would put
money on a woman, let alone me.”
Another door opened to a bright corridor with flashing signs leading
ahead. It was like a giant shopping mall. After so many years of living
underground, I had forgotten what it felt like to walk through shops, to let
my eyes get lost among the goods, to imagine the silliest scenarios in my
head. The view made me smile, reminding me of childhood walks with my
dad, buying ice cream together on weekends when he didn’t have to go to
work, sitting on a bench, and enjoying the hustle and bustle of the city.
“Your color is white,” Desmond said, leading me. “So first, the dress
shop.”
“White because of my magic, right?”
Desmond nodded, pausing at a yellow door. “People who bet money are
allowed to decide from afar about the participant’s magic. Everyone thinks
a certain magic is stronger than another.”
We stepped through the open door into a cream-colored boutique with
luxurious chairs, mannequins adorned with glittering dresses, crystal
chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and a floral scent in the air. The scene
was complete with a small brown-haired woman wearing a short dress, a
book in her hands, not even paying attention to the new arrivals.
“Harper,” Desmond’s rich voice greeted her.
The woman’s gaze shifted from the book to Desmond and then to me,
her green eyes bright with interest. “Hmm. At last, you’ve let a charming
lady into your stony heart.”
“You misunderstand,” I said quickly. “I’m an Ascension Games
participant.”
“Oh, sorry. Desmond has never taken a girl under his wing. You must be
special.” Harper’s green eyes sparkled as she looked at me.
“Harper, stay out of my business and share your golden mind,” Desmond
said calmly.
Harper merely smiled. “Color?”
“White fire.” Desmond walked toward the hanging dresses, looking at
each one.
“Details I should know?” Harper stepped out from behind the counter
and down the aisle of dresses.
“We need something shocking, intriguing, eye-catching. The entire city
wants her dead, so we need something that will make her appear like she
belongs to the upper echelons of Eldmoor.”
Harper nodded once, then paused beside a manicured dress. “Behold—
elegance, eye-catching white beads, and sexiness all in one.”
Desmond shook his head. “Too predictable. Too many sequins. Too
revealing.”
“Do I get an opinion?” I demanded.
“No.” Desmond’s stern gaze locked on me.
“Fierce as always,” Harper said with a soft laugh. “Just like Mom.”
After fifteen minutes of walking around the dress shop, Desmond’s face
showed more frustration with every suggestion Harper made. Why was it so
hard to choose a dress? Looks were the only thing I had. No one had seen
my face, and no one would be able to talk to me, so a stunning dress was
the only thing that could save me.
Desmond tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Harper’s next proposal.
Finally, he stomped to the door. “Come on. Let’s try another dress shop.”
I moved to follow, but a certain dress caught my eye. It was perfect.
“We’ll take this one.” I took it off the hanger.
 Harper cast a hesitant glance at the dress in my hands and then toward
Desmond. “That dress isn’t white; it may cause you problems.”
“You’re right, but if I’m just like everyone else, no one will remember
me. I won’t be special in anyone’s eyes.” I met Desmond’s gaze. He looked
genuinely puzzled. “Have you ever thought about knowing the participant
you picked to train under your wing?”
“That dress could be dangerous. It’s breaking the rules… but I can see
where you’re coming from.” The corner of Desmond’s lips turned up.
“This dress isn’t a lie. Besides, you said your name could open a lot of
doors. They can’t just throw us out of the ball. You are Callahan’s son, after
all.”
“Just one more small detail.” Harper clapped her hands, and the lights
went out.
The matching details of the dress glowed white in the darkness, and my
mouth formed a silent O.
“It’s not magic. How can it be?” I asked in amazement.
“Science.” Harper grinned.
Desmond paid for the dress, promising to come back after hugging
Harper briefly and exchanging a few quiet words. Harper and Desmond
were clearly close, but the woman was much older; she had to be in her
fifth decade. Money? Of course I didn’t have any, but I was sure Desmond’s
pocket was hardly impacted by the purchase.
A yawn escaped my lips as we entered the beauty salon.
“I will leave you here. After all the treatments, find your way back to
your room.” Desmond nodded his goodbye and left me in the care of a
young girl.
The time passed quickly, with facials, hair treatments, manicures, and
pedicures. I felt refreshed and relaxed from all the luxuries that were once
common and available to everyone.
Back down the corridors toward the Ascension Games participants’
bedrooms, I found a few bags on my bed alongside a note that said makeup
was booked for four o’clock, and to rest and get ready before meeting
Desmond outside his office just before five.
The clock read eight past ten in the morning, so I curled back up in bed
to give myself a well-deserved rest. Sleep claimed me quickly, and I didn’t
wake until someone knocked on my door.
 A brown-haired girl smiled brightly as I swung the door open, a suitcase
in one hand. “Clara, right? I’m booked for a makeup appointment in your
room. Do you mind if I come in?”
“Not at all.” I turned to let the woman step into my room.
The woman walked over to the wall and pressed a few buttons, turning
the light in the room from red to white. I felt silly for not noticing it before.
I pulled out my dress to show what the look of the evening was and then
settled on the bed, allowing the girl to apply product after product to my
face.
“Finished. I’ll be on my way to let you get ready.” The girl smiled as she
gathered her gear and then disappeared out the door.
I wore a dress that suited my non-proportionate body. I had much wider
hips, a small tummy, and medium-sized breasts. Brown curls bounced
around my face, shiny from salon treatments. The shoes Desmond must
have bought were true to size, un-heeled with an open toe.
The dress was sure to attract attention, not only for its openness but also
for its sparkle. The collar was engraved with shiny white beads extending
from the left shoulder to the end of the sleeve, reaching the wrist. The other
shoulder was completely bare. The beads continued to shine at the chest
area, and the black material extended toward the waist. The beads glittered
again at the hip and followed the rest of the dress around the body.
I glanced at the clock—almost five—and hurried out the door and down
the corridor. I knocked on Desmond’s office door, and it swung open to let
me inside. My eyes were already accustomed to the dim interior, so it didn’t
take me long to find him in the darkness, leaning against his desk with a
cigar in his hand.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who decided to break the rules,” I said,
fighting a smile.
Desmond wore a black blazer, white tailcoat, and black suit trousers, but
the most eye-catching thing was the shiny white crystals sewn into the
jacket.
“Participants need to know where you belong.” Desmond winked as he
got up from the armchair and stubbed out his cigar. “Are you ready?”
“To be watched by a bunch of hyenas who want me dead? Sounds like a
great evening.”
I followed him down the corridor, my head spinning as we made turn
after turn. I would never fully understand the layout of all the floors and
corridors of Eldmoor. The din of conversation sounded in the distance,
growing louder as we approached. Just the sound made my heart beat faster
in my chest.
“Speak, Desmond.” I sighed shakily, trying to calm my rising tension.
“Try not to cause trouble, even if you’re treated unkindly, impolitely, or
if they try to provoke you. An orderly, calm evening will ensure that you
draw more people to bet money on you. Nobody likes a hothead. They
come across as unstable, over-emotional, and unreliable.”
“Do you think I’m going to be able to hold my tongue and smile like an
idiot while insults are hurled in my direction?”
“Yes. You’ll have to tone down your flaming character. It’s called
professionalism.” Desmond’s cold gaze met mine.
“Anything else I should know?” I glanced at the door in the distance.
“Everyone who puts money on Ascension Players will be on the other
side of the room, behind the glass wall. However, Lazarus will test your
politeness. Not only will your family be in the same room as you, but also
other important people from the highest levels of Eldmoor, as well as
several guards. You must remain calm, cool, and collected.” Desmond put
his hand on my shoulder.
I shrugged him off and shot a glare in his direction for good measure.
The guards standing at the door let us in without a word, and so the
evening began. The surroundings were steeped in luxury: champagne
glasses, seafood steaks, salads, wine, and caviar. The table was covered
with a tantalizing array of food for the eight participants and their families.
The first thing that caught my eye was Cecily in her golden dress. She
was chatting quietly with her mother, sitting in a corner away from
everyone. I scanned the rest of the crowd—the elaborately dressed
participants and their less well-dressed relatives—until my attention was
drawn to a woman standing at a distance, obviously uncomfortable. She
wore a plain burgundy dress that ended below the knee.
I rushed forward, leaving behind Desmond, who joined Chad and several
other unfamiliar men.
“Darling.” Mom embraced me, then let me go and scanned me from top
to bottom. “You look stunning.”
“Look at you, Mom. What a lady. You seem to be feeling better. How is
your health?” I couldn’t stop smiling. All the bad days disappeared. My
mom was healthy. Safe. That was all I needed.
 “Thanks to you, I still don’t have to work. Why did we meet here? We
were told it was important. What happened?” Mom’s voice was calm, but
anxiety was clear in her eyes.
“This ball is being held so we can say goodbye to our loved ones before
we go to the surface. It seems that Lazarus has a heart within his rotten
soul.” I took my mother’s hand and walked toward the nearest table.
“What’s happened so far? I thought the Games were over. I thought I’d
never see you again. Where’s Olin?” One question after another left my
mother’s lips.
“Training. Olin is seriously injured and will not participate in the
Games.” My eyes stung as I said the words.
“Darling, it’s going to be okay. Olin is strong. He will survive.” Mom
hugged me again.
I lowered my voice. “Mom, what was that pendant you put in my pocket
when you said goodbye? Why is it with you? What does the symbol mean?”
“It’s...”
Everything around me went silent. My gaze went past my mother’s
shoulder to the glass wall, behind which were maybe two hundred people
comfortably seated in their chairs. Waitresses walked around with trays of
drinks in the dimly lit room. My eyes met that of a stranger’s, and I froze.
The scarred face, the scarred hands holding a cocktail glass.
This had to be the man who had attacked Olin.
“Darling, are you listening?” Mom’s voice asked.
No. I wasn’t listening.
I stalked toward the glass wall. It wasn’t my appearance that caught
everyone’s attention, but rather my strange behavior. The man in question—
dark-skinned, short-bearded, probably in his forties, wearing a gold watch
and a crimson tuxedo—looked at me as if I were a victim, a trophy, a mere
object.The scars on his arms betrayed his true identity, and Olin's words for
the person who threatened his life - scars.
A few meters away, a tall figure blocked my path.
“Desmond, I’d advise you to back up,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Merkins,” he said in a low, cold voice. “Our preparations will be
worthless if you behave so stupidly.”
“He almost killed Olin.” My gaze slid past Desmond’s shoulder to the
dark-skinned man.
 I tore my gaze away, forcing myself to meet Desmond’s dark eyes when
his hand lightly caressed my cheek. His fingers slid down, stopping
underneath my chin, and gently lifted it. As our gazes locked, I could still
feel a trace, like a gentle burn left on my skin from his touch.
“Look at me.”

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 CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DESMOND
The only thing that might divert Clara’s attention and anger elsewhere
was to move it to another person—a person with whom she could be even
angrier.
“Don’t touch me.” Clara grabbed my hand, yanking it away from her
face.
I let my lips lift into a small smile. “Trust me.”
My hand landed on the hilt of my sword, and shadows shrouded the
lamps in the room, creating twilight. A dangerous act, but I had to redirect
the attention. Soft music filled the room, and I held out a hand to Clara. An
invitation to dance.
She offered a plastic smile and took it. Her voice was icy as she replied,
“Trusting a person who wants me dead would be stupid.”
The rhythm of the waltz flowed around us. All eyes were on us, and soon
the other participants joined in to dance with their family members. One of
my hands rested on Clara’s waist, holding her close. It was strange to dance
with my enemy, the person responsible for so many deaths. She was so
venomously beautiful. Tension was rife in her every muscle, no doubt
mixed with anxiety, anger, and wonder. Holding her so close for the first
time, I could feel her heartbeat. I couldn’t stop my gaze from wandering to
her glossy pink lips and the ocean-depths of her eyes. The fragility I saw
there, buried deep where few could see it, gave me pause.
“It is better to trust me than the people behind the glass or the
participants in this room. Friendly faces in a critical situation might put a
knife in your back for their own benefit.”
“Yes—at least you looked me straight in the eye as you tried to kill me.
How lucky I am.”
The music stopped, my shadows faded, and light returned to the room. A
figure, well-known to all, stepped through the door. Clara took the
opportunity to go back to her mother while I joined Chad. My gaze
involuntarily drifted toward the man I was more interested in than my father
who had entered the room.
 Augustin is one of my father’s best friends and shockingly good-looking.
He had only been to the Games once and his past was unknown. Since my
relationship with my father was not all fluff and roses, this man was a real
enigma. Augustin, with his light blue eyes that looked even lighter because
of his dark complexion, twirled a ring around his finger. His gaze was fixed
on Clara.
“Hello, dear Ascension Participants. This is a day to relax from the hard
training, say goodbye to your loved ones, and enjoy some quiet time. It also
marks two other important milestones: your financial support when you
reach the finish line”—Lazarus motioned with his hand toward the people
standing behind the glass, smiling a political smile—“and the countdown to
the start of the Ascension Games begins.”
After this political speech, my father retreated to the glass room to
schmooze with the city’s upper echelon.
The time passed quickly. I left the hall just before the participants said
goodbye to their relatives, not wanting to hear and see tears and sad faces. It
made me feel sick inside, and perhaps a drop of sadness.
No one—no one—had ever looked at me as if they were afraid of losing
me, as if they cared about my life.
I returned to my office after changing into my comfortable uniform.
Lazarus was playing dirty now. In the past, he would announce the number
of days left before the Ascension Games began, but this time he was leaving
everything to guesswork. The time often varied, ranging from three to ten
days, and allowed the participants to morally prepare, train harder, and
come to terms with the future that lay ahead.
I sighed and settled into my armchair, trying to shut out my thoughts.
The numbers continued to roll around in my head as I tried to guess how
many days were left, and how many training sessions before Clara would be
ready for the Games. Truth be told, nothing could prepare her for what
awaited on the surface. She could learn to tolerate the weight of armor, get
physically stronger, and learn to control her magic, but nothing could
prepare her for the panic that would come with seeing dragons five times
her size that wanted her dead.
A knock sounded. I got up from the chair, but pain shot through my
body. My knees hit the ground, followed by my palms.
“Not now,” I said through gritted teeth.
 “You have to admit it,” a deep voice said in my ears. “You have to
choose. You must...”
My body shook, and waves of pain washed over me. I tried to breathe,
but my lungs wouldn’t inflate. Footsteps sounded in the distance, but my
view of the carpet dimmed and I became immersed in darkness.
Purple dragon wings pierced the sky. I felt so small, yet so powerful.
Black eyes stared back at me, a barbed tail and claws that could crush with
a single movement. I was paralyzed, staring at the dragon in front of me. Its
black eyes, so dark like the deep night, wanted to speak. There was
something strange about them. Something different.
One step of the dragon toward me made the whole ground shake. I
wanted to run, but I couldn’t move. My body felt so heavy—
“Desmond. Desmond!” Clara’s voice ripped me out of the unfamiliar
place.
I opened my eyes. Clara was shaking me by the shoulders. I still couldn’t
move, only stared at her in a daze. This woman was trying to wake me up.
Even though my every action toward her had been selfish, my every word
insulting, she cared about my life. It showed in her blue eyes. That radiance
had never been there when she’d looked at me before.
“Don’t you dare die, Desmond,” she snarled.
“Stop shaking me or I’ll get a concussion.”
Clara dropped her hands, her expression shuttering as if she had finally
gotten a hold of herself. “What the hell happened to you?”
“It’s called a nightmare.” I pushed myself off the ground into a sitting
position, my head still spinning. “What’s the reason you’re in my office,
Merkins?”
“I wanted to thank you for tonight.”
“It’s my job.”
“Lie. It’s not just a job. Harper said you’ve never chosen to train a
woman. It’s more than that; you’re not telling the whole truth.” Clara
scanned my face as if searching for an answer.
“Let’s not get sentimental, Merkins. It’s time for you to rest. I’ll see you
tomorrow morning.” I staggered toward my chair.
“The dark-skinned man with blue eyes.” Her gaze speared into my back;
I could feel it. “You know him, right?”
“Augustin.” I settled into my chair.
 “Good. I need to contact Lazarus and tell him about the attack and the
near murder of an Ascension participant.”
“Augustin is one of my father’s best friends, Clara. Your outburst will
get you nowhere.” I sighed. “My father is trying to break you indirectly so
you will be morally exhausted, unable to train, and eventually die.”
“‘It was planned?” Clara’s words seemed to stick in her throat. “Why are
you doing this? You knew the whole truth, but you kept quiet?” She walked
toward me, her hands clenched into fists, her lips in a single line, her
breathing becoming thinner with anger.
“It’s just a guess. Don’t take your anger out on me. If it weren’t for me,
you’d be dead already.”
Clara froze, color staining her cheeks. “Are you suggesting I shouldn’t
be angry? Not to feel anything? It’s your fault that I almost died a few
times. How do I know this isn’t you and your father’s plan? The easiest
thing for you to do would be to get rid of me without leaving any trace. You
are a damn son of Callahan whose actions can be covered up!”
“What’s in it for me, working with my father? Giving you information
about Augustin? Asking about the founder’s pendant around your neck?” I
gripped the handles of the chair as anger surged through me. “My father is
afraid of me. That’s why he won’t touch you. That’s why you’re alive,
because you know something he doesn’t want everyone else to know, Clara.
Now get the hell out of my office.”
Clara turned on her heel and marched toward the office exit.
I closed my eyes, trying to calm down. Sometimes I lost my patience,
and pain, the contempt, the anxiety, the anger… it all came rushing out.
“Wait.”
“Enough said, Desmond. Good night.” Clara looked at me over her
shoulder as she stopped in the doorway.
“I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t believe myself. Surprise shone in Clara’s gaze. Usually I could
handle situations like this, but I had gone too far. Those recurring
nightmares that were so realistic, that strange voice in my head, the pressure
coming from my father… It had all gotten to me.
“Did I just hear the cold Desmond apologize?” Clara slowly turned and
looked straight into my eyes.
I ignored Clara’s question. “You looked stunning today. All eyes were on
you. I’m sure, despite your name, you impressed the people of Eldmoor.
I’m proud of you. Now, good night.”
The words escaped my lips involuntarily. It wasn’t something I would
normally say, but Clara didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of my anger tonight.
Even if I felt like everything was slipping through my fingers.
Clara watched me for a long moment. Then she nodded. “Good night,
Desmond.”
I could’ve sworn the corner of her lips turned up as she disappeared
behind my office door.
Glass in hand, sweet wine rolling down my throat, I closed my eyes.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor a few minutes later, and my office door
swung open. The only person who felt worthy to enter my office without
knocking on the door was Chad.
“You look tragic. What happened to you?” Chad sat down in a chair and
poured a glass of wine.
I averted my gaze. “Damn nightmares.”
“Come on; you need a distraction. Let’s go.” Chad grabbed the bottle of
wine and walked toward the exit.
“What have you come up with?” I demanded, reluctantly following him.
Chad laughed and punched my shoulder. “Be patient, Desmond.”
Chad opened the door to the gym. Harper and Milo were sitting on the
floor, clearly drunk. They seemed to be sharing old memories. Harper, a
woman of fifty-three, my mother’s best friend who had always watched me
out of the corner of her eye and made sure I didn’t slip when I was young.
Milo, the older brother who had taken my place and who always made me
feel like I wasn’t good enough.
“Desmond, finally! Sit down and don’t frown.” A wide smile appeared
on my brother’s face.
Yes, my body language was a good indication that I didn’t want to be in
the same room as my older brother. I was like his shadow. I had never been
able to prove to my father that I was better than him. That was why I was
the coach and he was sitting up there with my father. We had been close
when we were young, but not any longer.
I squashed my anger and joined the circle.
“I think each of us needed a chance to get away and relax.” Harper drank
greedily from her bottle of wine. “This world is fucked up.”
“Tell me about it.” Milo threw his head back and let out a deep sigh.
 “I remember those carefree days when I used to bake cakes with your
mother, and you used to play in the fields.”
“It’s all in the past,” I said shortly.
“Do you remember that time we broke into our father’s office and played
with his gun?” Milo grinned. “I will never forget the look on his face when
he said we could have hurt each other.”
I took the bottle of wine from Chad’s hand, taking a few sips. I needed to
be in a better mood for this conversation. It had been so long since I had
spoken with Milo. “Or the time we both hugged our father’s legs to stop
him walking out the door to work. Everything changed when...” My words
caught in my throat.
Milo’s gaze went blank and emotionless. “When our mother was killed a
few hours before the dragons came to town.”
“From that day on, everything was a competition.” I squeezed the neck
of the bottle tighter. “We were just kids.”
“You were always supposed to be together. You shared such a special
bond from childhood.” Harper’s gaze lingered on me and then on Milo.
“There is no choice when Lazarus makes them fight for the only place,
as if only one of them can be called a son,” Chad said.
“It’s a terrible place to be,” I muttered.
Milo frowned. “I always felt guilty seeing my younger brother stay
behind me.”
“It certainly didn’t show on your face.”
“It would have been a mistake to show emotion. Our father would think I
was unable to control myself. That’s why I always wear a mask.” Milo’s
serious gaze lingered on me.
“How is your girlfriend?” Harper interjected, changing the subject and
tone of the conversation.
“What?” Milo’s expression changed to devilish delight. “My younger
brother has a girlfriend?”
Chad laid his head sloppily on my shoulder, his drunk body nearly
deadweight, as Milo became animated, every emotion unconcealed.
“She’s not my girlfriend, just an Ascension Games participant.”
Harper raised a single eyebrow. “Liar. You’re hiding under that mask,
Desmond. I’ve known you since you were a child.”
I sighed. “There is no point in loving something that this city can take
away at any time. One game on the surface can break your heart and kill
your loved ones. It’s meaningless.”
“It hasn’t changed or killed you. Being afraid of losing what you don’t
have is meaningless, brother. You have to experience as much as you can,
because you never know when it might just end.”
“It’s better not to be crushed by feelings you don’t have, Milo.”
“With every game you’ve been in, I’ve worried about losing the only
brother I have. It’s strange to say it now. I’ve been holding these words
inside for so long. We were separated for twelve years, from the day you
were appointed coach when you were just eighteen.” Milo rubbed at his
face with his hands. “The things I heard about you—the cruel coach. I
wanted to check out the dark hole you were sitting in, but I never got the
chance.”
“What has changed now?” I looked between them. “Who decided to hold
a meeting after all these years?”
“Guilty.” Chad raised his hand, smiling broadly.
“You’ve been cooped up for so many years, between the walls of your
office, punishing others. How do you stand it?” Harper asked softly.
“I have no choice. It’s my father’s orders. Sometimes it’s damn hard.
Sometimes it’s the only thing that brightens my day. It was hard in the
beginning, but it’s different now that I have my voice. I’m strong in my
position, and I’m not afraid to talk back to my father.”
“Everything has changed after this, right?” Chad touched his face,
looking at my scar.
None of them knew where my scar had come from. I had never told
them about the day my respect for my father had burned. The day my fear
had turned to anger and my feelings to ashes.
Only one time had I ever been better than Milo. That day, I had proved I
was worthy of the Callahan name. I had been proud of myself, but my
father had a different attitude.
That was the moment I found out that twilight magic existed—when my
father had fired it directly at me.
I had screamed as cold and hot needles crawled under the skin of my
face, slowly spreading in different directions. Tears had rolled down my
cheeks, and my voice had gone hoarse from begging him to stop.
The pain had been traumatic for a boy of that age, and my respect for my
father had turned into fear. That event had made me who I was—when the
person who should have been a pillar of strength on difficult days, a role
model in a young boy’s life, had become a demon with a face twisted by
rage.
I told Harper, Chad, and Milo the truth all these years later. Surprisingly,
it made my chest feel lighter, as if I’d finally set down a weight I’d carried
on my own since I was a child.

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 CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CLARA
“Actions worthy of respect.”

I hurried toward Desmond’s office, eager to start another training

session. It was early, but there was no answer when I knocked on the door. I
knocked again, louder this time, but Desmond’s office remained quiet.
I waited for a moment, then turned on my heel and marched back down
the corridor. I couldn’t rest and be lazy when the Ascension Games were not
far away. I made my way through the meeting rooms, down the long
corridor, and toward the open training room.
This one was completely different from the one where I practiced with
Desmond. The walls were dark, the lights dim, and Morgana was fighting
against Bianor in the middle. This practice room was much bigger, allowing
the other participants to retreat to a suitable distance. Morgana had chosen
twilight magic and Bianor white fire magic.
The fight stopped abruptly when I stepped into the room, everyone’s
eyes shifting toward me.
“Are you lost?” Erasmus sneered.
“I’m not forbidden to train.” I scowled at him, hoping it would be
enough to shut him up.
“First, you must prove that you’re worth training with us,” Cole said.
“Just because you’re Desmond Callahan’s choice doesn’t mean anything.”
“Which one of you will decide my worth?” My attention stopped on
Erasmus, Cole, and Morgana, knowing full well that these three were the
only people who were not happy with my presence in this room.
“I will.” Mervin stepped forward to replace Morgana.
“Great. When does the victory count?” I stepped toward Bianor,
replacing him.
The corner of Morgana’s lips turned up. “When one of the duelists falls
to the ground and loses their balance.”
I knew the consequences, but I had to keep a calm and cold face. It had
only taken half a training session with Desmond for me to hit the wall from
the magic blast, but I couldn’t give in and let these hyenas tell me what to
do.
I pulled my sword out of its sheath, fingering the blade and gripping it
tightly in my hand. Mervin’s sword glowed yellow in the darkened room.
His fingers formed a triangle at the hilt of the sword, and a yellowish
uneven ball flew toward me.
I clutched the sword to my chest, hand outstretched, the ball of magic
striking an invisible shield. My knee hit the floor along with the sword’s
blade, and flames of fire shot toward Mervin, who dodged with a quick
movement to change position.
Before I could stand up, his sword was heading straight for my head. I
blocked it by raising mine. As the blades met, a burst of magic slammed
into the floor. The sound was so loud that it left my ears ringing.
I pushed Mervin’s blade aside and stood, increasing the distance between
us and forming a triangle at the hilt of my sword, the blade pointing toward
Mervin. He raised his own magic shield in retaliation.
I repeated the action, but this time Mervin deflected it with a strange
movement to the side, sending flares of light traveling across the floor. They
blinded me in the darkened room. I tried to raise a shield, but Mervin’s
sword slashed straight at my head. The impact was so strong that I lost my
balance, but I stepped back, managing at the last moment to cross our
swords.
The force of the impact knocked me off my feet, and the ensuing burst of
magic made my whole body shake. Mervin retreated, unleashing balls of
light and air and filaments of light, ready to strike at any moment.
My magical shield disappeared with one attack. There was nothing I
could do to avoid the light traveling through the walls. I gripped my sword,
knowing I wouldn’t be able to perform another shield, but I had faith. I
didn’t close my eyes, waiting for the blow. The yellowish threads of light
were just half a meter away. With great force, they hit an invisible shield
that glowed black.
“Didn’t anyone teach you not to touch a woman who belongs to me?”
Desmond’s low, menacing voice drifted to us.
Mervin stepped back to stand beside Bianor and Cecily while Cole,
Morgana, and Erasmus’s bodies tensed, despite one of them daring to speak.
“Clara belongs to you, which is why you keep her locked in your dark
study,” Erasmus said. “This despicable woman has no right to train with us.
She doesn’t deserve it.”
Desmond took a very slow step forward, his dark eyes fixed on Erasmus,
shortening the distance between them. Erasmus clearly wanted to retreat,
but he had to stay strong to prove how arrogant he was.
Just a few meters away, Desmond stopped, giving Erasmus a look that
could kill. “Just one look, one nasty thought toward this woman, Erasmus,
and I’ll break your legs, change the rules so the injured can participate, and
then watch you crawl to the finish line of the Ascension Games.”
“Desmond.” Coach Roger’s voice rang through the room. “Did
something happen?”
“My chosen participant got lost,” Desmond said calmly. “It’s okay,
Roger.”
Desmond turned on his heel to walk past me, nodding for me to follow. I
said goodbye to Coach Roger as I left the training room and followed him
down the corridor.
“I leave you alone for a few minutes,” he said finally, “and find you in a
duel.”
“You could inform me of the later training hours if you plan on not
opening your office door.”
“Yes, of course. I was summoned to a meeting.” Desmond didn’t look at
me. “Today we will continue with magic training. You lack physical
stamina.”
“Thank you for using magic to protect me in the middle of the fight.”
My gratitude was sincere.
“I couldn’t let you get hurt before our training.” Desmond opened the
door to the training room. “I need you alive, not injured.”
The workout began differently from before. This time no magic was
used; we focused on strengthening my body and learning to parry sword
blows flying from different directions. Magic was an aid to this when
fighting from a distance. Everything was different when the opponent was
close enough. Then I would have to use not only magic but also the body,
evasive maneuvers, and learn sudden and correct sword movements.
“It’s slow, but your arms and body will become stronger as you learn to
take the force of the blow and the bursts of magic when the swords come
into contact.” Desmond drew his sword, summoning its blade. “Left hand—
ninth hour. Right hand—third hour. Sixth-hour is an overhead strike, and
twelfth-hour is a front strike. Is everything clear?”
 “Yes.”
Desmond stepped forward and drew his sword. Then he swung it to the
side, the uneven blade traveling straight toward me but changing direction
at the last second.
“Six o’clock.”
I gripped the sword with a firm hand raised at my shoulder, blocking
Desmond’s attack. A burst of magic as the swords collided caused my hands
to shake and the blades to slip past each other.
“Let your body relax. Your legs must have a flexible fulcrum, the knees
slightly bent and the arms not fully tensed. That will help to avoid the
energy of the magic knocking you off balance.” Desmond stepped back,
drawing his sword.
I relaxed my legs and arms, taking Desmond’s advice. He launched one
attack after another. With each blow, my body grew more and more tired.
All I could hear was the clash of swords and Desmond’s commands
announcing the direction of the attack. I barely managed to parry a blow
traveling to my left side, and Desmond immediately attacked with another.
“Twelve o’clock.”
I raised the sword above my head. My arms trembled with the impact,
and my exhausted body lost its balance. I kicked Desmond in the leg before
falling, refusing to be the only one on the ground.
It seemed he couldn’t keep up with the slow pace of this workout, so
there would be consequences for both of us. I hit the white tiles, but not
hard. Desmond wasn’t expecting it, so he rolled on top of me, laughing out
loud.
“Merkins, you’ve turned a training session into a duel.” Desmond put his
hands above my head, looking at me with his devilish brown eyes.
“Get off me, Desmond.”
Desmond didn’t look away, his eyes dancing with purple flames mixed
with brown. With his body so close, the whole atmosphere of the gym
seemed electric. I put my hands on Desmond’s chest, trying to push him
away, but all I could feel were firm muscles that wouldn’t move an inch.
So close. He was so close that the air I breathed into my lungs felt like
fire. His eyes didn’t look so angry, so dark. Now I saw the light that had
always been obscured by darkness.
“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” The corner of Desmond’s lips lifted, and
with a slight movement, he pushed himself off the ground and held his hand
out toward me.
I gripped it, accepting his help, still feeling a little dizzy.
“Today’s training is over. You did a great job, Merkins.” Desmond
returned his sword to its sheath as he made his way toward the training
room exit.
“Aren’t we done with training too soon? It’s only noon.”
“Your body won’t be able to take it if the workout continues. Take a
break. It’s no use if you fall with every stroke.”
We walked down the corridor. Desmond closed the door to his office
without saying anything, while I made my way to the Ascension Games
participants’ wing.
Take a break? The words sounded strange leaving Desmond’s lips. Had
his heart softened? Just a few days ago, he had been pushing me to train
even when I was exhausted and in a bad emotional state, and now he had
dismissed me so easily.
After a quick shower, I walked to the lounge. I made myself comfortable
on the sofa, ignoring the disapproving glances of Erasmus and Morgana.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Mervin’s voice
came from the front, drawing my attention.
“Mervin? Is something wrong?”
“I’m sorry. I feel guilty about what happened in the gym this morning.”
Mervin sat down next to me, crossing his arms over his head.
“Guilty? You have no reason to feel that way. It was an interesting fight.”
The corner of my lips turned up.
“I shouldn’t have attacked you so hard. You’re a first-time Games
participant. I should have understood.”
“So which side are you on? Your actions are very ambiguous.”
“Side? I’m on my side. Neither participant is worthy of trust or a bond of
friendship.” Mervin smiled broadly as he glanced toward Morgana and
Erasmus.
“You’re right, but how do you manage to remain so? You’re walking
such a fine line. Morgana, Cole, and Erasmus seem like dark individuals
who only care about blood and murder, while Cecily and Bianor seem to be
more intelligent, retaining humanity in their actions.”
“Morgana?” A few lines etched themselves into Mervin’s forehead.
“She’s not as bad as you think. Each participant has their mask. We’re all
hiding secrets and emotions. It’s the easiest way to avoid going mad.”
 “Threats don’t seem like nice character traits.”
“It’s just a nasty façade. She’s not the bloodthirsty monster you think she
is. Morgana has her own story. The reason why she’s in the Games is her
younger sister who needs medical attention for cancer. The treatment costs a
hell of a lot. That’s why she’s in the Games. It’s her only chance to earn a
large sum of money.”
“A bad situation is still no reason to treat others like rubbish.” I rolled
my eyes without feeling the slightest sympathy or empathy.
“It is better to be cold in face and heart than too friendly and open. When
you are dark, no one likes you. No one wants to know who you are, what
you like, your past or even to look in your direction. It’s like a defense
mechanism that ensures only the strongest remain.”
“Well, you may be right. Thanks for the talk, Mervin, but it’s time for me
to go.” I smiled broadly as I rose from the sofa and walked toward the
lounge exit.
Erasmus stepped into my path, his expression menacing. “Where are you
going?”
“Get out of my way,” I said calmly. “I don’t need any trouble.”
“You’re a walking disaster, Merkins. You think a terrible trainer is going
to help you survive on the surface with his stupid advice and lessons?”
Erasmus crossed his arms over his chest, proving that he had no intention of
retreating from his current position.
“His name is Desmond, and besides, that shouldn’t be your concern.
Don’t you have better things to do than block my path?”
“Three days left and your life is over, Merkins. When the Games begin,
the priority of the majority will be to get rid of you, to avenge what your
father has done to all humanity.” Erasmus’s gaze darkened.
My hand acted of its own volition, and I didn’t hold back as I slapped
Erasmus across the face. I could forgive those who were blinded by lies, but
I could not stand those who kept repeating them in my face without
knowing the truth.
“Don’t you dare talk like that about my father. You know nothing,” I
spat.
Erasmus put his hand out, ready to hit me, before I took a defensive
stance. His punch went straight into my face, but I managed to block it.
Pain shot through my arm, and I gritted my teeth, taking a step back from
the impact.
 “Enough.” Mervin’s voice rang out behind me.
“Don’t touch that despicable woman.” Morgana’s voice sounded on the
other side.
“Watch who you talk to, Mervin.” Erasmus walked away and stood next
to Morgana.
“Stop being a bastard, Erasmus.” Mervin stepped up beside me. “You
don’t know Clara. You hate this woman and you don’t even try to
understand the situation. You keep tripping over her for no reason.”
“I’m not interested in this bitch’s life story. She will have the same
ending as her father.” Erasmus turned on his heel and walked toward the
sofas.
“Well, this kind of behavior is not justified by the disgusting façade.”
My gaze shifted toward Mervin, slowly walking away from the scene.
The rest of lunch passed quietly. I exchanged a silent greeting with
Cecily and then returned to my room. I lay down on the bed, letting my
muscles relax, sleep occupying my whole body little by little.
Training was indeed exhausting, but with each passing day I felt more
determined to fight, more confident in my actions and more aware of the
consequences.
A faint scream woke me sometime later.
I got out of bed and ran toward the door. In the corridor, the participants
were already gathered around a person I could not see. All sorts of thoughts
crept into my head. Another Augustin attack? Who was the victim this
time? What was the reason?
Then my gaze landed on a man sitting in a pool of blood, his eyes
bloodshot and his face pinched with confusion and pain.
Erasmus sat on the floor. His leg had been cut off below the knee and
was lying beside him. The surrounding blood had not stopped flowing, and
sickness rose inside me.
His bright eyes narrowed on me. A trembling hand raised a finger,
pointing at me as if pointing at the culprit.
“It’s your doing. You’re to blame for everything.”

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 CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CLARA
“My days beside you were numbered.”

“You don’t think a short, weak, first-time Ascension Games participant

could hurt a powerful man like you that badly, do you?” The corner of my
lips lifted at the sight of Erasmus.
“I’ll call the trainer. Cole, make sure the wound is closed and the
bleeding has stopped.” Morgana spun on her heel, giving me an angry glare
before hurrying away.
I returned to my room, leaving the scene outside the door. Firstly, it
wasn’t my job. Secondly, the cameras were there to identify the culprit. And
thirdly, Erasmus was probably delirious due to the massive blood loss.
The commotion continued outside the door while I stared at the ceiling,
trying to calm my racing heart. A knock on the door made me flinch, and I
opened it to see Coach Roger.
“Good morning, Coach.”
“Clara, there is a person who wants to meet you. Come with me.” Coach
Roger turned on his heel.
“Do you know what happened to Erasmus?” I asked, following him. “Do
you have a suspect?”
“It’s not the same assailant who tried to take Olin’s life, but I can’t reveal
more than that.”
“Not the same? So the cameras caught the attackers and Lazarus and the
others are covering it up.” The fact escaped my lips.
Coach Roger shot me a warning look. “I’d choose my words carefully if
I were you, Clara.”
“Yes, I’d better keep my mouth shut if I don’t want to get killed,” I
retorted.
Roger unlocked a heavy door that led to a small room with a single table,
a stranger sitting behind it. He was middle-aged, with caramel-colored skin,
dark eyes, and a long beard, and he wore simple jeans and a black shirt.
 “I’ll be waiting for you outside the door.” The coach nodded his head,
urging me to step forward.
A stranger’s face. A small room. Why did this seem like the perfect place
to be killed? I brushed the thought aside as I sat in front of the man, whose
gaze was still fixed on the wall behind me.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You don’t need to know my name. We could both get into big trouble.
Finally, after all these years, I can see you again. I don’t expect you to
remember who I am, Clara. We’ve only seen each other a few times.”
“Great—another unknown person in this town who wants me dead.
Welcome to the club.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
A small smile appeared on the stranger’s face, highlighting his uneven
teeth. “You’re as sharp-tongued as your father.”
“You knew my father?”
“Yes. He was a wonderful man, a loving father, immensely devoted to
his work. It must be hard for you to hear negative things about him, his
past, and his actions all your life. You are not alone, Clara. There are more
of us, but we are forced to remain silent. Our lives are constantly in danger.
A single wrong word, wrong action, or strange look could get us killed.”
“Why are you risking your life to meet me?” I asked, frowning.
“To give you this.” The stranger pulled a pendant out of his pocket and
slid it across the table to me. “A little token of good luck. Your father loved
the mountains.”
“It’s a nice souvenir, but I can’t accept it.” This whole situation was too
suspicious.
A loud knock sounded on the door. The stranger’s anxious gaze shifted
toward the door, and his breathing became labored.
“I can’t say anything more. It’s too dangerous.” The man grabbed my
arm, forcing the pendant into my hand. His own hands were shaking. “It’s
time for you to go now.”
The man’s urgency had me hurrying toward the door. Coach Roger
grabbed my arm and urged me into the corridor and away from the room,
pulling me faster and faster.
“If you don’t want to die, don’t look back.” His voice carried a note of
warning.
I couldn’t help it. I glanced over my shoulder at the open door just as
two guards stepped inside. The heavy metal door slammed shut, but it
didn’t muffle the man’s screams.
I made to turn back. “We have to help him.”
“Keep moving, Clara.” A hint of desperation entered Coach Roger’s
voice. “There is nothing we can do. It was his choice.”
“Who is that man?” I demanded.
Two gunshots rang out, loud in the silent corridor. My hands began to
shake, and I prayed my legs would hold me as Coach Roger and I nearly
sprinted down the corridor now. He didn’t answer my question as we made
our escape.
A few minutes later, he stopped us outside Desmond’s office and finally
turned to face me. “Don’t tell a soul what happened just now. The wrong
words could cost me my life.”
Without another word, Coach Roger hurried toward the Ascension
Games Wing.
I stood there for a long moment, struggling to come to terms with the
fact that the mystery man was probably dead. Then I entered Desmond’s
office, projecting the most casual facial expression possible.
Desmond was sitting in a chair with a dagger in one hand and a cigar in
the other.
Desmond. Could he be the one responsible for cutting off Erasmus’s leg?
“You did it, didn’t you?” I sat on the sofa next to him. I didn’t have the
strength to stand. My body was was still trembling from my encounter with
that strange man. The man who had lost his life in a matter of seconds just
by meeting with me.
“Good morning to you too, Merkins.” The corner of Desmond’s lips
lifted.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Erasmus got a warning. It seems he didn’t take it. My father is behaving
disgustingly to break you by hiring Augustin to hurt Olin. I gave him a taste
of his own poison. Erasmus was a great participant with a lot of money at
stake. Now he will no longer be able to take part in the Games because of a
small wound.”
“A small wound? You cut off his whole leg, Desmond!”
This was a nasty game. Desmond’s disagreement with Lazarus had cost
lives. Blood had been spilled, innocents had gotten hurt, and nobody knew
what would come next. Nevertheless, why had Desmond done this? To
protect me? Because Erasmus hit me in the lounge and couldn’t stay in his
place? Or had it been Desmond’s response to his father for injuring Olin
and wanting to hurt me?
Either way, his dark side seemed to be getting a drop of light. Strange.
“You should be careful,” I said mockingly. “You don’t look so scary and
dark when you say those words.”
“Your eyes must be playing tricks on you.” Desmond snapped his
fingers, his voice turning cold. “You’re feeling very relaxed. Why are you
sitting next to me?”
In one swift movement, I pulled my sword from its sheath, the blade
revealing itself the moment I put it to Desmond’s neck. “No matter what I
look like, it doesn’t mean I’m not ready for a fight.”
He smirked and leaned closer, so close that my sword almost burned the
skin of his neck. “Then why are you hesitating? Why are your hands
shaking?”
He was right. My hands were shaking, and my grip on the sword was
loose, but his insolence had crossed a line. “I don’t hesitate. This action
only proves you wouldn’t have repelled my attack under normal
circumstances. A point in my favor.”
Desmond grabbed my sword and pushed it away from his neck. With a
deft movement, he climbed on top of me and waved his fingers. Shadow
strands imprisoned my wrists, pinning me to the couch. The sword fell out
of my hand as I stared up at him. I tried to move, but he was sitting on my
thighs.
“One to zero, in my favor.” Desmond leaned closer, our faces just inches
apart.
My gaze traveled from the scar on his face to his white hair in disarray.
To his strong jawline. I stopped resisting for a moment, hypnotized. Then,
without breaking the intense eye contact, I said through gritted teeth, “Get
off me.”
“Bossy, bossy.” Desmond’s fingers brushed a strand of hair away from
my face. His touch was chilling, strange, as if shadows were touching me.
Darkness glittered in his eyes—blind, black, sinful.
With an easy movement, Desmond slid off me, releasing my wrists and
crossing his arms over his head.
“That was cheating. What kind of fighting technique was that?” I
demanded, glaring at him as I sat up.
 “This is what you will learn in the future. Only those who have fully
mastered the first techniques can try to tame the magic and further improve.
Such insolence can make magic leave you or accept being controlled.”
Desmond leaned his head back, staring at the dark ceiling. “Don’t worry
about it now.”
“Did you burn your hand? You are a fool to touch fire with your bare
hands.”
Desmond held out his uninjured hand. “Don’t insult me. I used a shadow
shield.”
“Cocky. Are we going to sit and talk or practice?”
“I’m expecting guests, so you’re stuck with me for another half hour.” A
sigh left Desmond’s lips. “Although more accurately, the impending danger
at three-two...”
A knock on the door interrupted Desmond’s calculation.
Desmond sat up, his expression turning cool and formal. “Come in.”
Lazarus stepped through the office door, leaving his guards behind. It
was strange to look at this man so closely when he was always surrounded
by guards like some forbidden fruit.
“Do you have meat for brains, Desmond? Fuck you.” Lazarus stalked
toward us, his eyes glowing with rage. “You ruined the life of one of the
most important participants in the Ascension Games. Do you understand
what’s at stake?”
“Someone must have trimmed his ego.” Desmond raised an eyebrow.
Lazarus’s gaze slowly turned to me. His lips pressed into a single line
and several deep scores etched themselves into his forehead. Looking at this
man more closely, he seemed to have been seen, and not just because he had
been showing up at meetings on the lowest floor of Eldmoor for the last
years of his life.
“What is this traitor doing here?” Lazarus’s attention returned to
Desmond.
Desmond got off the sofa and crossed his arms on his chest. “She has a
name. Show some respect, or you can leave my office.”
“Don’t you dare do such a disgusting act to the Ascension Games
participants again,” Lazarus hissed, ignoring him. “You are ruining all my
plans. One more inappropriate action and you will be removed from your
position as coach.”
 “And then what?” Desmond chuckled darkly. “You’ll appoint Milo in
my place? Find another puppet to control? No person will ever be better at
this job than me. Because of what you made me into, you can pile up
money for yourself, manipulate everybody, and behave like a monster.”
“Don’t you dare preach to me, son. This city has been years in the
making. Every wall has ears, every man’s fate has been decided, and
everything is in my hands. It’s only a matter of time before you and your
bitch disappear from this city.”
“Choose your words carefully.” Desmond stepped forward, shortening
the distance between them. “Or your secrets may suddenly spread like
cockroaches between the walls of this city. Then the people will throw you
to the surface where you will become food for the dragons.”
“You and her—you will both die before any false words can leave your
lips.”
“Let’s see you try.” Desmond’s gaze burned with anger.
“Make one more mistake. You’ll see.” Lazarus turned and stalked out of
the office.
Once the door had closed behind him, Desmond let out a weary sigh.
“Ah, the threats never stop.”
The Desmond family drama seemed extremely complicated. Lazarus’s
behavior toward Desmond raised a lot of questions. Their words had been
ambiguous, but it seemed they understood each other perfectly. They could
clearly push each other’s buttons, which could turn any quiet conversation
into a war zone. Such a father was not worthy of the title. Why did he treat
his son like this? What was their history? Questions ran through my head,
but I held my tongue. It was none of my business.
“Family drama,” I said finally. I could think of nothing else.
“I don’t have a family.” Desmond walked toward the office door. “Let’s
practice. We don’t have much time.”
“Do you know the number of days until the Ascension Games begin?” I
asked. I knew the answer, but I wanted to see if it was true. Erasmus had
said that in three days my life would be over. If he meant that was when the
Ascension Games would start, we now only had two days left to train.
“Two days. Our time is short. Today we’ll train for longer hours, and
tomorrow you’ll have the day off.” Desmond marched down the corridor.
“How do you know the exact number of days? You don’t seem to get on
very well with your father that he would have told you that.” I caught up
with Desmond and walked beside him.
“Erasmus mentioned it when he threatened you. I confirmed it with my
brother.”
“That’s not enough time to be ready.” I pushed down my panic. “Your
father clearly wants me dead.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Merkins.” Desmond pushed open the
door to the training room.
When we stood in the center, facing each other, Desmond drew his
sword, wearing the most serious expression I had ever seen during my
training. I drew my sword as well, gripping it tightly in my hands and trying
to concentrate.
“Today we’ll combine the last two lessons—magic attacks, sword
attacks, and defense.”
Black threads traveled along the walls, constantly moving and
unwavering. I followed every movement with my gaze, and then they
darted toward me. I summoned a shield and performed a tuck and roll to
avoid his attack.
It was only a brief respite, though. Desmond’s purple sword blade flew
toward me before I could fully recover. I raised my fire sword and stopped
his slash mere inches from my face. Magic flashed, and I lost my balance.
The next slash was aimed at my stomach. I pushed Desmond’s sword
blade away, rolled to the side, and returned to a standing position.
Everything was much more difficult when my coach was concentrating,
doing things much faster than usual, and not giving me instructions on
which way the blow would go. I had to make decisions based on instinct;
my life depended on it.
The training room was filled with flashes of magic and the clashing of
swords. My body moved slower as time went on until finally Desmond’s
sword stopped a centimeter short of my neck.
“You’re dead.”
He pulled his sword away, and I struggled to my feet, wincing as every
muscle screamed in protest.
“Well done, Merkins. Today’s training session is over. Tomorrow is your
day off. Make the most of it.” Desmond patted my shoulder, then walked
toward the hall exit.
“Training is finished?” I frowned, trailing after him.
“Eight hours is a long workout. You’re ready. You just have to recover.”
 It hadn’t felt like eight hours, though the strain on my body felt as if I
had been training for a full twenty-four. My arms and legs were shaking. I
likely smelled atrocious, and it was difficult to get my breathing back to
normal.
“Can we train tomorrow?” I asked. “A day off sounds like a nightmare. I
can’t sit cooped up between four walls.”
“Your body needs a rest from the hard physical training.” Desmond eyed
me. “But if you don’t want to be alone, you are welcome in my office. Have
a good rest of the day, Merkins.”
After a shower and a hot meal, I collapsed onto my bed and fell into a
deep, exhausted sleep. I didn’t wake until my alarm went off at ten o’clock
the next morning.
In the canteen, I found Cecily and Morgana sitting in opposite corners,
ignoring each other. I grabbed a tray of food and settled next to Cecily.
“Are you ready?” I asked her.
Cecily glanced at me. “I’ll only be ready when I know my team
members.”
“Who will announce them and when?” I sipped my tea, savoring the
warmth as it slid into my belly.
“Desmond. He’s always been in charge of team composition, maps,
equipment, and all the other details.”
“That bastard. He didn’t mention anything to me.” I shook my head. “I
thought Lazarus was responsible for such important details.”
“Well, that’s the dirty part. Lazarus takes care of the nicer stuff—the
money, the bets.” Cecily rolled her eyes.
After we finished eating, I said goodbye to Cecily and walked toward
my room. As I opened my door, I was stopped by Coach Roger’s hand on
my shoulder.
“We need to talk, Clara.” Coach Roger’s face looked pleasant, but the
tone of his voice promised a different kind of conversation.

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 CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CLARA
“A life that could have been different.”

“Is this a good place to talk?” I scanned the corridor to make sure there
were no other Games participants around.
“No. I’m on my way to see your friend, Olin.” Roger nodded for me to
follow.
A tense silence fell as we made our way through the meeting rooms,
passing several unfamiliar faces. A large white room with glass doors
signaled our approach to the hospital wing.
“I’m sure you’re excited about the Ascension Games and nervous about
the team members you’ll be assigned to. Not to mention the dragons you’ll
be seeing up close for the first time.” Coach Roger spoke softly, as if
worried someone might overhear.
“This is not the first time I will have seen a dragon. The white flame
dragon, called Teirac, who killed my father, was just ten meters away from
me. They don’t frighten me.”
I couldn’t be afraid of dragons. It would be a sign of weakness. All I
wanted was revenge. Nothing would bring back my father, but perhaps only
then would my soul finally find peace. Maybe even then I wouldn’t be able
to forgive. Maybe I would need to spy on Lazarus—to find the real
perpetrators of the war and therefore the ones responsible for my father’s
death.
“Clara, are you listening?” Coach Roger had stopped walking and was
leaning against the wall.
“Yes.” I stopped too, looking back at him. I’m sorry. Can you say that
again?”
“I know Olin is your best friend, but don’t mention anything to him
about the murdered man. It will be safer for him while you’re away at the
Games. You have a much harder journey ahead of you than you can
imagine.”
 Anxiety settled low in my stomach. “What do you mean by that,
Coach?”
“The man who contacted you was part of your dad’s job. What he gave
you will give you more insight into what happened many years ago, before
the war between humans and dragons began.”
“Could you be more specific?” I huffed a breath. “Ambiguous stories
aren’t going to help me before the Games.”
“This is only a small piece of what I was able to find out from the letter
he left. It is not for me to decide whether it is true or false, but since it was
addressed to you, I thought you should know.”
I hesitated. “Thank you. Is that all you wanted to talk about?”
“Yes, that’s all. Be careful, Clara. It sounds silly, as you’re in the Death
Games, but you’re different. I’m not sure if the letter is true or just an
attempt to set a more sinister trap on the surface, but...” Roger sighed. “I
hope Desmond has prepared you properly.” He pushed himself away from
the wall and walked toward the glass door.
“Another obscure piece of the puzzle,” I muttered.
Roger glanced over his shoulder. “Did you say something?”
“What happens to the players who can’t participate in the Games due to
injury?” I asked instead, changing the subject.
“Erasmus and Olin will automatically be transferred to the next Games
in six months.”
Coach Roger said nothing else, and we continued into the hospital wing,
passing one door after another until my gaze finally landed on Olin, who
was resting peacefully in bed with a book. Coach Roger stayed behind the
door, giving us privacy and trusting me to do the right thing for the future of
my best friend.
Olin looked up, and his tired eyes brightened as he smiled. “Clara.”
I hugged him, but the faint ‘ooh’ that came from Olin’s lips made me
pull back and sit on the edge of the bed. I took his hand instead. “You look
much better.”
“Thanks. I should be able to get out of this bed in about a week. Then I’ll
be able to start walking, to take it slow and regain my strength.”
“It must be hard to stay in one place. Isn’t it boring?”
“Yes. Three stab wounds are no joke.” Olin groaned. “Enough about me.
Tell me what’s going on beyond these glass walls.”
 I carefully chose the words in my head, thinking of the events I could
recount and those I had to keep to myself.
“You’re thinking too much, which means you are going to lie.” Olin
frowned. “Clara, it’s me.”
I should have known he’d guess that I wasn’t being truthful. I cleared my
throat and said, “The Ascension Games begin in two days. Erasmus had his
leg cut off, which means there are only six of the eight participants left.
Training with Desmond has become bearable. I saw my mom at the
Ascension Games Ball. Everything has happened so fast.”
“I heard the doctors talking about another attempt on a participant. I
thought it might have been you, since everybody wants you dead. I was
going crazy until I finally heard that it was a man.” Olin shook his head.
“Do you know what happened? Who did it?”
I winced. “It was Desmond’s doing, for Erasmus trying to hit me.”
“Looks like the horrible coach has finally come to his senses.” Olin
winked. “How’s your training? Have you become close?”
“Olin!” I shook my head. “Desmond is my trainer.”
“Are you sure?” There was a note of teasing in Olin’s voice.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
I hadn’t thought much about it. Desmond had seemed dark in the
beginning, but over time I’d realized he wasn’t so scary. The family
disagreements, the constant anger with his father, the threats, the tension—
all of it weighed on him. But underneath the prickly man who tried to push
everyone away, I’d seen someone else. Someone caring. Those days when
my body wanted to give up, Desmond wanted to make me endure, to
overwork, to strengthen. A small part of him, maybe somewhere deep in his
soul, was not so dark. I could see it in his eyes when he was so close to me.
Vulnerability. Confusion. Looking into my eyes, with only a few
centimeters separating our faces, I could see the real him, the one who made
me interested and not angry.
“Well, it’s none of my business, but you can’t keep it from me if things
get heated between you and Mr. Scary Coach. Promise?” Olin squeezed my
hand.
“Of course.” I smiled. “I wouldn’t keep such serious things from my best
friend.”
Inside, I felt calm, and with Olin by my side, I felt safe. It was as if
everything around me had disappeared—all the problems and the secrets.
 Olin squeezed my hand again. “Just like old times, right?”
His words made me lose myself in memories. When I had first walked
through the doors of Eldmoor, everything had seemed alien. After the first
week of the fake news about the Merkins name, my life and my mother’s
life had turned to hell. I spent my days locked up in my room while Mom
worked and took care of food and clothes.
One day, a brown-eyed boy had knocked on the door and offered to walk
the corridors with me. That was how I had met Olin, who hadn’t paid
attention to the rumors going around, a boy who believed the words that
came out of my mouth.
The stares, the bad words, the rough pushes, the dropping of food on the
ground, the humiliation, the shouting... It had continued day after day. Tears
had rolled down my cheeks as I hid under the bed from strangers. I was
plagued by nightmares, and the only person who could calm me down had
not been my mother, but Olin.
That period of my life had been as dark as a cloudy night. I could only
be myself with Olin, a boy who had nothing to eat, who was disliked by
others, who lived in a room with an alcoholic man he did not know.
Growing up, we had shared everything: food, water, and money. Olin
became my mother’s favorite. She was happy that I managed to find friends
in such difficult living conditions, that I managed not to lose myself amidst
the abuse and the angry stares. So, Olin became part of our family, and over
time we both started to work, allowing my mother to rest as she was struck
by an unexpected illness. It was the three of us against the whole world and
we didn’t need anything else. Everything had been as it should be.
My past had made me close-minded, unable to communicate perfectly at
times, but what could one expect when the life of a seven-year-old girl had
been so shattered? When, from such a young age, both adults and younger
people had pointed fingers and pushed? The past had made me who I was—
someone who found it difficult to be friendly and open, who lacked trust in
other people, whose anger sometimes bubbled out of control when my
emotions became unstable.
“Yes,” I said softly, “but the most important thing is that in the midst of
it all, we found each other.”
Olin didn’t answer, his steady, deep breathing betraying sleep.
I carefully slid off the bed, gazing at my sleeping best friend. “Stay
strong, Olin. I’ll see you soon.”
 Coach Roger was waiting patiently in the corridor. He walked me
halfway back to the residential corridor, saying goodbye and reminding me
of the meeting that would take place at eight o’clock in the main meeting
room.
I passed the remaining time in my bedroom, physically resting in bed as
my mind worked overtime. Olin’s assassination attempt had been foiled, but
who had been behind the attempt on my life? Was it just Erasmus and Cole?
It could also be Morgana, or maybe even Lazarus, trying to break me in
another way.
I took the bracelet out of my pocket, given to me by a man I didn’t know,
a blue outline of mountains in a circle that could mean anything. That
strange man had a past linked to my father.
In all these years, my mother had never mentioned what my father’s job
had been. All I knew was that he had left early in the morning and returned
late at night. He had always been overloaded with notebooks, sometimes
even working at home in front of a lamp with a pen in his hand, filling in
the pages. That man had known my father back then. He’d had answers to
my burning questions, but now he was no longer alive to answer them.
The clock beeped to announce the meeting. I walked down the corridors
toward the main hall, a place where it seemed only recently everyone had
met for the first time. I settled comfortably in my chair, my gaze drifting to
Cecily, who had a look of determination in her eyes. Morgana wore a cold
mask, while Bianor drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. Cole sat
with his arms crossed, staring at the wall in front of him, while Mervin,
with his chin resting on his hands, almost snored.
Footsteps sounded from the right side—muffled, firm. I didn’t need to
hear his voice to know who approached.
“Good evening, Ascension Games participants. Today you have gathered
to learn the members of your team who will be your backup, your helping
hand, and perhaps your cause of death.” Desmond’s voice drifted around
him just as he reached the doorway archway. “The selection process was a
natural one, with only six of the eight contestants left. You can call that a
success. It means you have a better chance of reaching the finish line.”
Desmond stepped forward and stood at the end of the table, catching
everyone’s attention. He pressed a button, and a map appeared behind him
on the white wall, marking several cities. My gaze immediately fell on my
birthplace, the city where my father had died.
 “It’s a three-day journey to the first stop in Lumera. There, you will have
the opportunity to replenish your food supplies and regain your strength,
and the last point you will reach in three or four days is the town of
Collistar, where you will find the flag.” Desmond ran his finger over the
map, but it looked strange, as if pieces were missing.
“Is there only one flag?” I asked.
“Your armor will have some special features,” Desmond continued,
ignoring me. “On the left side, there will be a chip that you must attach to
the flag. It will transmit information to the Eldmoor computers, notifying
them of your position at the end. Team members and their coaches will be
able to communicate with each other via a bracelet on the left arm. The
bracelet has three buttons. Green is your coach’s line, red is your
teammates’ line, and black is silence mode. This equipment will keep the
Ascension Games running smoothly and will keep those who stay here
aware of what is happening during the Games.” Desmond’s gaze lingered
on me briefly, then on each of the other participants.
“Will the return be as stupid as the last time?” Morgana asked in a
disgruntled voice.
“Control your tone, Morgana. Anyone who makes it to the front and
marks themselves in the last city must make it back alive to secure a place.
That means the Ascension Games will last between fourteen and twenty
days, accounting for the journeys there and back.” Desmond crossed his
arms over his chest. “Does anyone else have any questions?”
No one spoke up, and I didn’t have any questions either. I had expected
the Games to take place in one city, like a slaughter. This would be much
harder. Surviving the wilderness, the cold to which few were accustomed,
the weather conditions that could kill, knowing how to adapt to the
environment, how to find and set up a shelter, how to survey the
surroundings for danger…
“Good. The first group consists of Bianor, Clara, and Morgana. The
second group is Cecily, Cole, and Mervin. Tomorrow, your trainers will
prepare you to enter the surface with backpacks, armor, and all other
necessary equipment. Enjoy your last days.” Desmond walked toward the
archway, leaving the meeting room.
Morgana glared at me. “You cannot be part of my team.”
“Whether you like it or not, I don’t give a damn. It’s not my choice.” I
pushed myself out of my chair and walked toward the Ascension Games
wing.
“Morgana, it’s time to bite your tongue and be bearable,” Bianor said.
“You don’t understand. I can’t lose, and Clara will ruin everything for
us.”
I tried to ignore their conversation, but they walked behind me without
trying to soften their voices.
“Don’t be so arrogant, Morgana,” I snapped. “We’re teammates now.”
“Yes, and you will be the reason we all die.”
“A very enthusiastic attitude,” I drawled.
“You don’t know what’s waiting for us out there.”
Bianor put a hand on her shoulder. “Get a grip. The area is larger this
time. There is no turning back now. Get over it and fight for what is left of
this city.”
Morgana, strangely enough, did not push Bianor’s hand away. I could
almost see the pain and the events of the past running together in her face.
I returned to my bedroom, not wanting to interfere in matters that were
not my own. Though I should interact with my teammates and find a
connection, because soon we would depend on each other in the wild.
Before I could reach the bed, a knock sounded behind me. I opened the
door and frowned at the person I least wanted to see at that moment.

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 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CLARA
“Stubbornness can reward or destroy.”

“Morgana, have you mixed up the sleeping chambers?” I tried to keep

my tone neutral, but I couldn’t hide my surprise and irritation.
“No.” Morgana didn’t bother to hide her irritation either. “I came to
inform you that every year, the Ascension Participants hold a meeting in the
lounge shortly before the Games. Ours will be tomorrow at ten o’clock in
the morning.”
“Thank you. I’ll consider the offer.”
I shut the door without so much as a goodbye and changed into my
uniform, determined to get some well-deserved rest. I closed my eyes, and
although my thoughts made sleep hard to reach, I tried to relax. Finally, I
sank into the dream realm. I woke a short time later in a cold sweat, but I
couldn’t remember the dream. I felt like I was being watched, only this time
I knew whose fault it was.
“It’s not polite to watch someone sleep,” I grumbled, glaring at the
darkest corner of my bedroom.
It had to be Desmond. I could feel his magic in this room. Just like
during my training when I had to overcome obstacles on the ground, like
that day in the canteen, he was always watching me. Why? I had no idea,
but it was creepy.
The feeling in my chest disappeared. I took that as my cue to get out of
bed.
The canteen was empty save for Bianor and Cecily, who were sitting
together. I grabbed some food and sat next to Bianor. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Clara. Did Morgana contact you yesterday?” Bianor’s
gaze lingered on me.
“Yes. It was an unexpected meeting.”
“Great. We don’t want any of the new members to miss the one fun
event between all the hard training days.” The corner of Bianor’s lips turned
up.
 “Silly to try to find positivity in such a tragic situation.” Cecily leveled a
serious look at Bianor.
“You’re right, but seeing it as the end won’t increase your chances of
survival.”
“This is the last time you’ll see most of us alive,” I mused.
“One death, one step up.” Cecily’s brutal words were true.
Bianor got up from the bench, clearly giving up on persuading Cecily to
show up at the meeting in half an hour. My gaze went to the blonde, who
seemed lost in thought. “You were unhappy about the team members,
weren’t you?”
“No. Mervin’s on my team. That’s great.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“I can’t lose the Games, but what chance do I have of reaching the finish
line? Between nearly twenty days of travel, dragons, and deadly
conditions...” Cecily’s shoulders slumped.
“I understand, but there is no going back. Only forward. You have to
fight for your mother who is waiting for you, for Mervin who doesn’t want
to lose his girlfriend. There are people waiting for you despite the hard road
ahead.”
“Such thoughts do not help me to be positive at all.” Cecily sighed and
got up from her bench. “See you later, Clara.”
I watched her go. Instead of staying with my thoughts, I headed straight
for the lounge. The sofas were in different places this time, lined up
opposite each other, forming a circle. In the middle was a small table with
snacks and a few bottles of alcohol. Bianor had made himself comfortable
next to Mervin, while Cole sat next to Morgana. I sat on Bianor’s other
side, still wanting to keep my distance from Cole and Morgana.
“It seems that Cecily has decided not to show up, so I think we should
get started.” Morgana uncorked a bottle of wine.
“What exactly is this meeting about?” I asked, taking the glass from
Morgana’s hand as my gaze shifted to Mervin.
“It is a meeting where we share our past, the highlights of the last
Ascension Games, and our experiences. It’s a fun way to sit down and get
to know each other better.” Mervin took a sip of red wine.
“Some of us aren’t as bad as we seem,” Cole said. “We’re all trying to do
our best in training, hoping that will help us reach the finish line.”
 “This is my second Ascension Games,” Morgana said. “I watched each
of my teammates die at the hands of Honsu, otherwise known as the
Twilight Dragon. I was the only one able who survived. The other team
wasn’t so friendly. They killed one of their teammates to give themselves a
better chance of winning.”
“This isn’t Bianor’s first Ascension Games,” I said. “Does that mean he
was on the opposing team?”
“No, I was in the other wing of the Ascension Games.” Bianor crossed
his arms over his head as he made himself more comfortable. “At the very
beginning, you met the people who might decide to participate in the
Games again. They become your teammates or opponents. There are four
Ascension Games per semester for all selected members. If any teammates
are missing, new ones are selected from the lowest floor of Eldmoor.”
Mervin spoke next. “In the third Ascension Games, the encounter with
the White Flame Dragon was one of the most memorable. I dream of those
crimson scales at night and those dead white eyes. Death is inevitable in the
Games, but a voice whispers inside me, inviting me to participate again and
again. The screams in my head even now bring me out of sleep. I can still
feel my hands smeared with blood as I try to save my teammates on the
brink of death. At the end of the day, I think we all have a reason for
entering this death duel.”
“We don’t all have something to fight for,” Cole countered. “Sometimes
the feeling of loneliness is so maddening that every time you step on the
surface, you secretly hope it will all end. Sometimes the responsibility
weighs too heavily on your shoulders.”
I cleared my throat, my gaze shifting to Morgana. “What’s your story?”
“While my mother is swimming in money,”—anger flashed in her eyes
— “I’m fighting for my sister’s life, hoping that if I win these Games, I’ll
be able to get her to this floor and pay for her medical expenses.”
“How does it feel to stand before a dragon?” I asked. “Is it true that fear
paralyzes you? Is it possible to hurt them?”
And so the stories flew. Some bared their souls, revealing their wounds
inside. We all relaxed by letting ourselves be seen, putting aside our anger
—thanks, of course, to the alcohol—and enjoyed perhaps our last moment
together.
At the end of the night, we all went our separate ways with lighter
chests, fuller minds, more advice, more stories, and an increased
willingness to fight for survival. I walked down the corridors; I hadn’t
forgotten my promise to Desmond that we would meet. The two glasses of
wine hadn’t affected me strongly, but I felt more relaxed, my thoughts lazy.
I knocked on Desmond’s door and heard his faint voice beckoning me
inside. His office looked different tonight. It was bright, with lots of candles
burning. The shadows no longer seemed so dark and frightening.
Desmond was sprawled in an armchair, nursing a bottle of alcohol. His
white shirt had a few buttons undone, and his black trousers were wrinkled.
I settled in the armchair across from him. “Are you drunk?”
“Do you care?” Desmond eyed me.
“No, but I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Desmond grabbed a bottle of tequila from the table and filled the four
glasses on the table. “Drink?”
I found myself relaxing. The hard part was over; training had come to an
end. This would likely be the last time I saw Desmond.
“We don’t know each other, but on this last day, I want to change that. It
has been an honor to work with you, Merkins. To see the stubbornness in
your eyes, the burning anger that fuels your determination to move forward
despite difficult circumstances.”
These words seemed to turn everything upside down. The heartless
coach was giving me a compliment, and he was smiling.
“You were cruel from the beginning, not listening to my wishes and
tears,” I said, offering him a half-smile. “I hope you will always remain so.”
“Let’s play a game.” Something strange shone in Desmond’s eyes. “Each
person will have a turn to try to guess the details of the other’s life. If the
guess is wrong, the person who asked will have a drink. If the guess is right,
the person who was asked will have a drink. Let’s spend the rest of tonight
relaxing. There’s not much time left before the end.”
“You grew up in a big house, surrounded by luxury,” I said, making my
first guess. “Your parents had good jobs and were perfectly capable of
supporting their children.”
“Half true. I didn’t live in a luxurious house. It was on the outskirts of
the city. A small house, but we all fit in it well. My mother was the
housekeeper who took care of me and Milo, and my father was a general in
the army.” Desmond took the glass, held it out toward me, and waited for
me to do the same.
We clinked them together, and the burning liquid slid down my throat.
 “Your turn,” I said.
“You didn’t have any friends before you came to Eldmoor.”
“Wrong. Drink.” My gaze lingered on the tequila glass. “I wasn’t always
the way you see me now, Desmond. When the world was free, I was seven.
I didn’t have many friends, of course. Mae was the only one. We were like
two different sides of the same coin, perfect for each other. While I was the
dreamer, she was serious and realistic. She didn’t survive the initial attack.”
Desmond picked up the glass and emptied it, then filled the glasses back
up. His gaze was fixed on me, waiting patiently for my next guess.
“Your father is the reason you became so cold,” I said finally.
Desmond smiled, although his eyes were sad, as if lost in a memory. It
had to be true. The way Lazarus dealt with his son, constantly threatening
and treating him like garbage. It would make anyone turn dark and cold.
Desmond’s gaze slid to the glass. “Drink.”
I emptied another glass of tequila. The alcohol made my body feel heavy
and light at the same time. Now, looking more closely at Desmond’s face, I
couldn’t help but notice the fine freckles on his nose. His white hair, while
slightly long, was neatly cut. My gaze moved to his strong jawline, to his
mouth, and then down toward where his bare chest was visible through his
shirt.
“The day my world went completely dark,” Desmond said, his gaze
never leaving mine, “I was nine years old. Just hours before the dragons
attacked the city, I saw my mother killed. It was late, and Milo was asleep
while my father worked late hours. A masked man broke into our house. My
mother confronted him.” He paused, his expression solemn. “Two bayonet
wounds, one in the chest and the other in the head. From that second, I
became distant from everyone; colder, more closed-off. Lazarus just pushed
me deeper into the abyss with every word, every action, every raised
voice.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Guilt was a bitter taste in my
mouth as I observed Desmond’s face, contorted by emotional pain.
“That’s the rule. You have nothing to apologize for.” Desmond sat back.
“The reason you’re in the Games is to vindicate your name.”
I flashed a broad smile. “Drink.”
Sitting before him, so relaxed, it was easy to forget I was hated by the
entire city, the culprit of a war between dragons and humans. One detail
from my vague memories whispered that perhaps it was true. The way my
father had stood confidently in front of the dragon, turning his back on it.
He hadn’t been afraid. It was as if he’d been trying to protect the dragon
from the soldiers—as if they had been his enemies, not the dragons
destroying the city.
“I don’t care what the inhabitants of this city think,” I said. “I am not
trying to clear my name. I’m in the Games because I want revenge on
Teirac for killing my dad. It has nothing to do with vindication, clearing my
name, or the opinion of others. This is my fight, my promise, and my goal.”
“You’re not going to hunt Teirac during the Ascension Games, Merkins.”
Desmond’s voice became stern.
“I don’t care what place I take in the Ascension Games, whether I have
to go back to the last floor of Eldmoor or take the prize.”
“You can’t kill Teirac. The magic in the swords can only wound the
dragons, not kill them. You can’t risk your life for revenge. It’s suicide.”
Desmond’s serious gaze fixed on me.
“All Ascension Games are suicide, thanks to your father. Has anyone
tried to kill a dragon? All the participants have been concerned only with
injuring and escaping. No one has tried to exert all the power they have. All
the participants are only interested in rising above in this rotten society, in
benefiting themselves, in saving their family members stuck on the lower
floors, and in improving their own lives. All of them are equally selfish. I
have nothing to lose. I won’t run and hide.” I took a glass of tequila and
drank it, unwilling to continue this conversation.
“You’re right. Everyone in this city is selfish.” Desmond leaned forward.
“Revenge can be intoxicating at times, but you can’t leave what you have
left in this city—your mother.”
“I’m not going to die, Desmond.”
“You have to promise me that you won’t do anything stupid, Merkins. I
didn’t train you to fight Teirac. My goal was to help you survive the harsh
conditions on the surface, to learn how to use magic to defend yourself
against dragons, to survive being attacked by a human.” Desmond’s voice
grew colder with every word.
“You did your job. I don’t think you should care where I step from the
starting line of the Ascension Games.”
I didn’t like where this conversation was going. Desmond had no right to
tell me where to go once the Ascension Games started. Training was his job,
and I had heard it from his lips enough times to get it into my head. I could
see the dancing violet flames in his dark brown eyes, that strange glow I
couldn’t explain.
“Merkins...” Desmond’s voice sounded low and uncertain.
“Thank you for tonight, Desmond. It’s been a pleasure to know you, and
an honor to have been coached by you, but in the end, I will stand by my
beliefs and goals. Thank you for letting me see what lies beneath your
shadows, but it’s time for me to leave.” I got up from my chair and walked
toward the office exit.
I didn’t want our last meeting to be bitter with anger and disagreement.
This evening had started well, and it was my responsibility to end it as
calmly as possible before things took a turn for the worse. If we didn’t, our
fiery personalities would continue to set each other aflame.
I had almost reached the door when muffled footsteps sounded behind
me. I looked over my shoulder and Desmond was standing just half a meter
away, looking at me with his chestnut eyes. Slowly, giving me time to back
away, he tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. Then his fingers
slid down my cheek, pausing at my jaw and gently lifting my chin higher so
that I was looking straight at him.
A single word left his lips. It was the first time he’d ever addressed me
by name.
“Clara…”

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 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DESMOND
“I don’t want to lose you.”
The words came straight from my heart. Part of me was afraid, worried
for the first time in so long, looking into Clara’s bright eyes. I didn’t want
this woman to enter the Ascension Games, to fight for her life, to fight for a
place in Eldmoor, to fight for the chance to breathe. In some ways, we were
alike, baring our scarred souls to each other minutes ago. Clara did not
allow me to hesitate for a moment. She was strong. She knew her goals and
never gave up.
Only now, standing so close, with both of us shedding our masks of
stress, anxiety, fear, anger, and contempt, did everything look different.
Looking into her blue eyes, where white flames played, I let my mask fall. I
could lose myself in her eyes for eternity. I could burn in those flames.
For a moment, it seemed the storm of the shadows inside me was
calming just for her.
“You can’t lose what you never had, Desmond. “Clara pulled my hand
away from her chin and turned on her heel to leave the office.
I stood there for a moment, then went back to my chair, picked up a
bottle of tequila, and took a few greedy swigs, letting the alcohol wash
away that bitter feeling inside. A deep sigh left my lips, and I lit a cigar. The
thick smoke drifted around, and I let myself get lost in it.
It was just the alcohol playing with my mind. Clara was one of my
targets in Eldmoor. I had to find out why the symbol of the town’s founder
hung around her neck. I had to find the reason why Evan Merkins had
caused a war between humans and dragons. What could have happened?
Things had once been different. People had known about the existence of
dragons for many years. I remembered my mother’s bedtime stories about
powerful winged creatures living in the mountains, peaceful and calm.
Every year they had grown in number, and on our trips with Dad to the
mountains as the sun set, we’d loved to watch them from afar. As time went
on, they had flown closer and closer to the cities, but they had never
behaved in a predatory way.
 My drunken thoughts returned to her. Clara. The only person in Eldmoor
who knew my past besides Chad. The anger was still simmering somewhere
inside, but not as intense. The thought of Clara trying to kill Teirac
infuriated me and made every fiber of my body scream.
The only person who had ever tried to kill a dragon was me. That had
been two years ago when my father demanded that I take my place in the
Ascension Games to make sure my abilities didn’t go anywhere. In the last
fifty kilometers of the journey with Chad, we had been separated from our
group due to bad weather conditions. That day I had felt death breathing
down my back as Xaran’s shadow dragon aimed straight for me. Using his
powers, which were hardly equivalent to sword magic, Xaran had
imprisoned me in a shadow shield, preventing Chad from interfering. He
had been helpless.
In the minimal combat zone, it had been just me and the shadow dragon
with no way to run or hide. The minimal battlefield had used up a lot of my
strength. I had tried not to waste energy, but my body had grown more and
more tired with every attack, every shield, every step. But I had fought until
the last. While my body screamed in pain, my thoughts had screamed
louder, telling me to live.
Xaran had left a scar on my shoulder. His magic had seemed to suck the
life out of me, and the last things I’d seen were his violet eyes. Chad had
told me that Xaran retreated as my body stopped moving, as my lips turned
white. He had thought I was dead and so had I.
That day had proven to me that regardless of physical training, stamina,
fighting experience, or the magic in the sword, all a dragon needed to kill a
human was the will to do so.
I emptied my bottle and went to visit Chad, who had been quiet lately.
Just past the glass doors, pain shot up my legs, causing me to stumble.
Every muscle in my body contracted at once, and I screamed. My chest
heaved until finally my vision dimmed.
“I chose you,” a deep voice said. “Now it’s time for you to choose me.”
I stood on the top of a hill, looking at the ground where the snow was
melting. Little by little, winter gave way to spring. Warm rain fell from the
sky, soaking through my clothes. A roar came from ahead, and my gaze
fixed on a black dragon landing on the other side of the mountain as if
consciously keeping its distance. Those violet eyes, the barbed tail, and the
shining scales reminded me of the past. He was so close, capable of
finishing me off with a single blow, yet I felt no fear as I stared into the
violet eyes of Xaran.
“Acknowledge what you see and hear.” The voice came from Xaran’s
direction, but it rang in my head. “Then all the questions in your mind will
have answers.”
“Brother, get up.” Milo’s voice snapped me out of my dream.
I opened my eyes. I was lying on the floor in an unfamiliar office. Milo’s
frightened eyes stared down at me.
“What happened to you?” he demanded.
“It’s just a minor setback from participating in the Ascension Games.”
Milo held out a glass of water he’d grabbed from a nearby table. “Does
Dad know?”
“No.” I took the glass. My body shook as if it was in shock.
With each recurring dream, if you could call it that, the amount of
information had increased, as had the voice in my head. Sometimes it was
just words without an image, then an unbearable headache. The hardest part
was when everything happened at once—the image and the words. Then my
body refused to function.
I breathed deeply to regain my normal heart rate, still sitting on the floor
of Milo’s office.
“Do you know what it means?” Milo sat on the floor, looking at me.
“No. I’m the only one it happens to. I was reading medical records from
previous participants, hoping someone had experienced a similar problem
after the Ascension Games. I haven’t found anything, so maybe it’s just my
body’s response to a near-death experience.”
“That information wouldn’t be stored in the hospital wing.” Milo got up
from the ground and opened his laptop, making himself comfortable in his
chair.
“Is your computer connected to Eldmoor’s master files?”
“No. That would require access to our father’s office, but with a few
hard steps, I could find out the secrets and everything else in our father’s
main office. No, my login can access slightly lower files.” Milo’s brown
eyes lingered on me and then returned to the computer.
“What are you looking for?” I pushed myself up off the ground, leaning
against the desk and shifting my gaze to Milo’s computer.
On the computer was a list that seemed endless. Each name had a single
word next to it—cause of death. It was multiple choice: murdered, died in
Ascension, kidnapped, broke the rules, suicide, disappeared. With each
name, I felt an increasingly sick feeling of anger inside. Most of the
inhabitants of Eldmoor since its founding had two main reasons: death in
the Ascension Games or breaking the rules. They were the two most
common reasons, but I still couldn’t figure out what Milo was looking for. I
was alive, so why was he looking for something on the list of dead?
“Your symptoms are extraordinary, but I knew one person who had
similar complaints,” Milo explained. “I want to take a closer look at his
medical records and life history. Maybe that will give us an idea of what
happened to you.”
“You knew someone with the same symptoms? It could be any cause
related to deteriorating health. Why do you think that person’s symptoms
are the same as mine?” The question escaped my lips without taking my
eyes off the list.
“Eoghan, the person who was killed before the last Ascension Games
began. An older man. It wasn’t his first Ascension Games. He had a
yellowish scar on his leg, just like the one you have on your shoulder.
Father mentioned him a few times in meetings, but I can’t remember
exactly why he didn’t like him. He kept saying it had to be removed before
it reached the surface of the earth as if his life depended on it.”
Milo clicked on the name. Eoghan Delgado, age forty-three. All the
records from the very first day he had set foot in Eldmoor. Living quarters,
family composition, medical records, number of Ascension Games
attended, every job he’d worked, salaries, and even bank statements
showing where his money had been spent.
Milo clicked through the medical records, trying to find the symptoms
that matched mine. Like every other participant, Eoghan was required to be
examined by doctors after the Ascension Games to ensure his
psychological, mental, and physical health. A year before he took part in the
last Games, Eoghan had been taking strong painkillers for his head—in the
doctor’s words, he had been complaining of sleepless nights due to
recurrent headaches.
Could this be the cause? The voice in my head was causing the headache
for me, but how could I be sure it was causing Eoghan’s pain as well?
Ascension Games participants reported many symptoms following a death
in the Games—headaches, nightmares, depression, sleepless nights,
schizophrenia, self-harm, harming others, suicide, constant pain in the limbs
of the body.
“A prescription cannot confirm that our symptoms are the same, Milo.
Headaches can have many other causes.”
“I remember the scar on Eaghan’s leg. Where did the scar on your
shoulder come from?” Milo’s gaze flicked from the computer to me.
“None of your business.”
Anger flashed in Milo’s eyes. “I’m trying to help you, brother.”
I huffed an irritated breath. “It’s a scar from fighting a dragon.”
“Eoghan and you had two similarities: scars of different colors and a
headache. That must mean something, right?”
“The aftermath of trauma, that’s what it means, Milo.” I sighed. “When
your body dies, that’s what happens. There’s no other explanation for it.”
“I don’t believe that. I think you should attend the next Ascension
Games and find out why Lazarus didn’t want Eoghan to reach the surface.
Perhaps then you would find out the real cause of your symptoms.”
“This is just speculation,” I said. “If we can get more precise
information, then maybe.”
“I will try to find out more information. Now get some rest. You can’t
miss tomorrow.” Milo nodded toward the office door in polite dismissal.
I made to leave, but a million questions were running through my mind.
Who was Eoghan? Was this another person Lazarus hated for no reason?
Did he know something I didn’t?
I opened the door and stopped, turning back. “Milo, why are you helping
me?”
“You’re my brother.” Milo smiled. “I think that’s a pretty solid reason.”
I went back to my office, the night’s events heavy in my mind. I had
spent years hating Milo, but now the anger was… lighter somehow. As if
the wounds inside were healing little by little. I wasn’t sure if a few
conversations could change a person, but the scars left behind would never
heal; the bitterness inside would always remain.
I took a quick shower and slipped into my soft bedsheets. Everything
would be different if the war between people and dragons had never started.
My family would have remained compassionate, understanding, and warm,
a place where I would be welcomed with open arms. Lazarus would have
been a great dad, like he had been back then, with an understanding gaze. A
person I would have wanted to be like when I grew up.
 Everything would have been different if it hadn’t been for the Merkins
who had spoiled the whole world order and peace. Clara, the girl to blame
for what my family had become—broken up, violent, out of control, out of
shape—walked the corridors of Eldmoor as if the extinction of mankind did
not rest on her shoulders.
A woke to the sirens heard only on the second floor of Eldmoor. I
hurriedly put on my uniform, splashed cool water on my face, and hurried
out of the office.
Lazarus’s voice came over the speakers. “Fifteen minutes until the start
of the Ascension Games.”
I rushed down the corridors, straight toward the place where the players
would be released. In the distance, I could already hear commotion coming
through the glass doors. Roger was helping his participants put on their
armor. As I stepped through the door, my gaze went to Clara, who was
struggling with a heavy vest whose laces reached her back. I intercepted
her, taking the laces and tightening the vest. I secured the other pieces of the
armor, ensuring everything was tight.
“Good morning, Desmond.” The words left Clara’s lips as she attached
the armor sleeve to the chest armor.
I gave her a small smile, then walked a few meters away, unlocking the
door behind which the Ascension Gaming Facility was located. Special
backpacks were neatly arranged on the shelf with all the necessary
equipment packed inside: food, tent, paper, sleeping bags, water, and
communication equipment. All of this was divided among the three
backpacks of the participants on each time—another reason not to get
separated from the group.
I handed out the backpacks one by one, finally stopping at Clara. Her
eyes burned with determination.
“Time to put on the communication gear you’ll find in the smallest
compartment of your backpack,” I said, raising my voice so all the
participants could hear me.
Lazarus’s voice came over the speakers again. “Five minutes until the
start of the Ascension Games.”
“I want everyone’s attention for a few minutes before the Games start.”
Roger’s voice carried above the siren, and everyone gathered in a circle to
hear him. “In recent weeks, you have shown...”
 I lightly touched Clara’s shoulder, drawing her attention and nodding for
her to follow me out of the room. Her confused gaze landed on my face as
we stepped through the glass doors into the empty corridor. “What are you
doing, Desmond?”
“The commotion in there can drive you crazy.”
Clara shook her head, not believing a word I said. “I think you just
wanted a private moment with me.”
“I take what’s mine.”
Leaning forward, I gently took her small face in my hands and kissed
her. Her hands slipped into my hair.
This kiss, with our tongues moving in unison, made me feel alive. With
every heartbeat, somewhere between anger and passion, everything got
mixed together. Every touch made my demons retreat. I wanted her for
myself. I wanted her to belong to me.
“Clara?” Coach Roger’s voice called from inside the room.
I pulled back and couldn’t help a smile as Clara’s gaze went to the coach
standing in the doorway. She broke free from my grip and swept her knife
up from the floor, returning it to her belt. “Don’t think it means anything,”
she muttered, following Roger back inside.
Through the glass door, I could see Morgana and Bianor’s faces turned
our way. They wore twin expressions of disapproval.
“Good luck, little blaze,” I murmured as I watched Clara go.
At the last door, Clara glanced over her shoulder. When our eyes met, I
nodded my head, silently conveying that I believed in her, that everything
was going to be okay.
I couldn’t predict the future, but Clara was a woman whose soul burned
with determination combined with vengeance—a combination that would
carry her forward even on the hardest days. I didn’t want to believe this
could be the last time I saw her.

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 CHAPTER NINETEEN
CLARA
“You are my hope to be heard.”

“Half an hour’s travel in this direction will ensure that the teams are far
enough apart that the first actions of the Ascension Games are not
massacres.” Bianor’s voice drifted around us as we walked down the steep
corridor ahead.
“Early morning is the best time to start our days,” Morgana added.
“Dusk, evening, and night are the most dangerous times to travel.”
I trailed behind them, lost in thought. Desmond had acted so brazenly, as
if I belonged to him.
No. Now was the time to concentrate, to focus on what lay ahead. To
leave all of Eldmoor behind and fight for my life, for my return to Olin, for
my mom’s better life, and to punish my dad’s killer.
“Is there something going on between you?” Morgana’s gaze lingered on
me.
“Mm? What are you talking about?”
Morgana’s expression betrayed her displeasure at the situation she had
seen before the Ascension Games began, but her voice remained calm and
political. “You and Desmond?”
“No. It was just a stupid, impulsive act.”
“Enough of this uncomfortable topic, Morgana. Don’t be a pest and
leave your past behind.” Bianor glanced toward Morgana. “What is our
course? Are we going across the river or over the lake?”
“Going over the lake causes more danger. If we choose the river, we will
put more distance between ourselves and the mountains,” Morgana replied.
“What is the difference between traveling toward the lake and crossing
the river to retrieve the flag? Do either of these directions help us reach
Lumera faster?” I asked.
“It’s an hour faster when traveling closer to the mountains.” Morgana
pushed open the door leading to the surface.
 “The first day is the easiest, and the first night is the hardest. Come on;
let’s try not to become a snack for the dragons.” Bianor smiled as he
stepped through the white snow.
The view filled me with both joy and anxiety. The plain ahead was
completely flat, with snow visible only occasionally, brown grass in large
patches, and the sun slowly rising in the distance.
Our conversation died as we chose a direction closer to the mountains
and began walking. Winter seemed to be giving way to spring, but very
slowly. The brisk wind bit my cheeks and the snowflakes stung my face.
One step after another, the frozen grass and snow crunched under our heavy
boots. We walked side by side, not leaving much distance between us,
ensuring that we didn’t lose each other, though in a flat area like this we
would see danger approaching in an instant.
Hours passed. My legs grew heavier, my arms stiffening with cold as the
sun rose.
“When the sun reaches its highest point, we will have lunch.” Bianor’s
voice mingled with the wind. “We should reach the edge of the lake by
nightfall.”
As I walked on, all I could hear was uneven breathing, footsteps, and the
howling wind. Did Bianor know much about Morgana’s past? Why did
Morgana seem so unhappy with the closeness between Desmond and me?
“We break here. Time for lunch.” Bianor took off his backpack, pulling
out a few cans of oats flavored with coarsely chopped nuts and a small
bottle of water. The food would help keep our bodies from overworking and
give us energy and strength. We sat in a circle on the hard ground, enjoying
the cold food. It wasn’t gourmet, but after five hours of walking, my
stomach would have been happy with anything.
“What does a place to refuel look like?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“There are usually two on the city map. Each one has a chest full of
food, and the first team to the city gets to choose which one they want.”
Morgana took a long sip of water.
“Sometimes the players have to fight over food, making the Ascension
Games even more brutal than they already are.” Bianor shoved a spoonful
of oats into his mouth. “As if there weren’t enough to worry about with
dragons that can kill an entire group with a few attacks.”
“So what’s scarier, dragons or team members killing each other?” My
gaze rested on Bianor.
 “Both are cruel in their own way. When you have to kill another living,
breathing person with a past… when you know that he might have a family
waiting for him when he comes back, but you still have to do it… The
image is deeply imprinted inside and never goes away. Dragons, on the
other hand, when you see the terror on the faces of your group members,
the moment when they realize that death is inevitable...” Morgana’s gaze
drifted into the distance.
“Humans often become more cruel than dragons in the Games,” Bianor
said. “I’ve heard stories of a participant in one group killing his teammates
to increase his chances of winning, only to be killed by another participant
on the return journey for the prize.”
“The games don’t end when you mark your place on the flag?” I asked.
“No. The road back is the most dangerous. Those who stay outside the
city often try to eliminate those who win, thus getting a chance to rise
higher. On the way back to Eldmoor, groups tend to reunite to increase their
chances of surviving a dragon attack, but things can always take a fatal
turn.” Morgana put the water bottle in her backpack.
“Time to go.” Bianor rose from the ground, slinging his backpack over
his shoulder. “We need to reach the lakeshore and settle down before dark.”
“Why is darkness so dangerous?” I asked Morgana as we followed
Bianor.
“Dragons usually come out of their caves after dark. They rarely attack
in full daylight.”
“Nighttime is when the human body releases the highest levels of
testosterone, thus attracting dragons,” Bianor added.
“It’s unlikely that sleep will be reserved for the night,” I muttered.
Bianor smiled. “When the human body is asleep, you don’t have time to
fear and panic.”
With each step, my legs grew heavier. The sun began to set, and the
mountains became visible on the horizon. The temperature began to drop
faster than I expected, warm steam escaping from my lips with every
breath. The armor weighed me down. Training with Desmond had helped,
but I had never worn them while traveling such a distance. My fingertips
were growing stiff from cold. The armor didn’t have any pockets, and the
best I could do was to keep them as close to my body as possible, tucking
them under the armor and my normal uniform.
“L-last time the w-weather was much n-nicer,” Morgana said, shivering.
 “Better cold than summer, when you feel like you’ve been thrown into
the desert.” Bianor blew out a breath of steam.
After another hour, we started setting up our tents, gathering branches
from the nearest bushes to make a small fire and filling our bellies, this time
with warm food. Bianor left the circle and walked toward the tent while I
sat with my back to Morgana, looking out over the calm water of the lake,
the flames of the campfire warming my back. Turning my gaze to the left, I
scanned the mountain horizon, a place where dragons should be flying, but
none were in sight.
Well, not such a dangerous first day—just damn debilitating physically.
Morgana’s soft voice interrupted my thoughts. “Why are you here,
Clara?”
“Do you think I’m here of my own free will?” The corner of my lips
lifted as my gaze drifted toward the moon.
“No. It’s the law, but you seem very militant about what lies ahead.” She
sat down next to me, looking in the same direction.
Morgana was the last person I wanted to talk to about my past or why I
was in these Games. I certainly didn’t want to talk about my inner feelings
—my anxiety, fear, anger, and pain. She was just a member of my team who
would return to her normal place in life after the Ascension Games, having
achieved her goal in her comfort zone, forgetting the past.
“The Ascension Games and the prize are the least of my concerns,” I
answered, “but I have no other path or freedom to choose, so I will go all
the way.”
A great howl came from somewhere in the distance, a sound that was
etched deep in my memory, just like the day Lumera had been destroyed.
“Do you hear that?” I asked Morgana.
Morgana instantly rose from the ground, walking toward the fire, and
began emptying the water supply to quench the flames. My gaze went to the
black cloud coming this way, moving fast.
“Clara, help me.” Morgana’s quiet voice sounded stern.
I pulled the bottle out of my backpack and poured it on the fire as Bianor
emerged from the tent, raising his gaze to the sky.
One by one, crimson dragons flew over our heads. Their wings flapped
so hard that we had to crouch to avoid being blown away by a strong gust
of wind. The smoke from the extinguished bonfire rose upwards but didn’t
seem to attract the attention of any dragons.
 “That could have ended very badly.” Bianor gripped the edges of the
tent.
“We almost lost not only our roof over our heads but our lives.”
Morgana pushed herself up off the ground, kicking a few charred branches
with her foot.
“No flames after dark. Morgana, you should have learned that lesson last
time.” Bianor’s serious gaze shifted toward Morgana.
“It was just a bunch of mindless dragons. Calm down, Bianor.” Morgana
walked toward the tent.
Bianor shook his head. “The first day could have been over before the
morning even dawned.”
I sat on the ground, looking off into the distance. Sleep was the least of
my concerns right now, despite my exhaustion. My gaze wandered between
the mountains and the moon shining above them. I couldn’t stop admiring
the world and the sights that every person in Eldmoor should be able to see
as well. Freedom. Everyone deserved it, but not everyone could have it.
“A sentimental detail, isn’t it?” Bianor’s gaze lingered on the bracelet on
my arm.
“Yes,” I lied. “It’s one of the things left over from my father’s death.”
“It’s the outline of the Blaze Mountains, the ones we see in front of us.”
Bianor extended his finger, tracing the outline of the mountains in the
distance. “Seeing such spectacular sights for a short time imprints them in
your memory.”
I raised my arm, comparing the outline of the bracelet and the mountains
opposite. Bianor was right; they were identical. Roger’s words about this
bracelet revealing the truth rang in my head. I felt a sudden, irresistible urge
to see the mountains up close.
“I have to go there.”
“It’s an eight-hour journey one way, Clara. I understand your nostalgia
and your feelings for your dad, but it’s dangerous. It’s just an old chain. We
can’t change our route.” Bianor’s calm voice spread around.
“No, you don’t understand.”
Bianor fell silent as if in thought while I couldn’t sit still. I had to go in
the direction I was going, even if it meant death, even if it meant being
attacked by a dragon or not winning the Ascension Games. I had to find out
what it meant. Why was the outline of the Blaze Mountains on this
bracelet?
 “If you go out early in the morning before the sun rises, you’ll be able to
reach the mountains before noon. Then you’ll have a few hours there and
you’ll have to make your way to the edge of the lake, where we’ll spend the
second night,” Bianor said reluctantly.
“You think a day will be enough?”
“I’m not saying it will be enough, Clara. It’s a dangerous journey that
depends on how fast you go, what the weather conditions are like, and how
many times you stop. The journey there will be longer than the return
journey, as our campsite will be closer, but there’s a chance you won’t make
it back.”
“Great. We’ll keep in touch through the headset.” I rose from the ground
and walked toward the tent. “Goodnight, Bianor.”
“If you’re not back by dawn, we’ll have to leave you,” Bianor said from
behind me.
“I’ll meet you at the finish line, then.” I glanced over my shoulder at him
before slipping into the tent.
I took off my armor and slipped into my sleeping bag. The air
temperature was still sub-zero. I watched the warm steam escape my lips,
and by the time my body warmed up, I was already asleep.
I opened my eyes to complete darkness. I put on my armor, put on my
rucksack, and walked silently out of the tent. The sun should rise soon. I
glanced at Morgana and Bianor’s tents and walked steadily toward the
mountains, leaving the team behind. I stopped for a moment at the
lakeshore, washing in the not-so-clean water, which helped wake me up.
Traversing the road ahead, thoughts running through my mind and all
sorts of scenarios of what might lie ahead, I took it one step at a time. Soon,
the sun rose and melted the snow, leaving only vast meadows ahead. A little
to the left, somewhere in the distance, a forest hid the greatest secrets and
many animals.
I felt rested despite sleeping on the ground. Hours of early training had
helped my body grow accustomed to lack of sleep. The wind was not as
fierce as yesterday and the air temperature was slowly rising, although I
knew it would not be so warm that I could enjoy it without heavy armor.
I made one stop to enjoy a cold meal and emptied half a bottle of water
when the sun was highest in the sky. The number of supplies in my
backpack was limited due to yesterday’s campfire being put out. I would
have to speak to Bianor about that. To believe there would be enough water
for the return journey was foolish.
How was Olin holding up? Had my mother started working yet? The
questions crept into my head one after another, making my chest feel
heavier. The sun was shining in my eyes, and although it did not give me
warmth, I enjoyed the wonders of nature. Bianor and Morgana should have
moved from their place five hours ago, and I was already past the halfway
point, knowing that the mountains and the truth were not far away.
“Clara, good morning. Are you sure the flag is on that side?” Desmond’s
sarcastic voice came through the earpiece.
“Are you spying on me?” The question left my lips as my hand landed
on the green button.
“I had to make sure you weren’t going through with your suicide plan,
but apparently I was wrong. Turn around and head back to the second
campsite.”
“I’ll be there by nightfall.”
Hearing Desmond voice so close, my heart began to beat faster in my
chest. Yesterday’s kiss flashed in my mind, and my cheeks heated.
“I’ll keep you company until you reach the mountains. The
communication is poor there, so you will have to contact me as soon as you
finish your stupid mission.”
“Aren’t you tired?” I asked him.
“From what?”
“From running around in my head all day.” The corner of my lips turned
up.
Desmond’s laughter rang through the headphones, and I smiled fully. It
was such a rich, unexpected laugh, and the sound banished any fear that had
been growing inside me.
“I dare you to say that to my face,” Desmond said, still chuckling.
“I’m sure you won’t be able to stand me for ten minutes.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Let’s bet.”
The headphones emitted static, letting me know the signal was getting
worse.
The mountains had a lot more greenery inside than the meadows,
probably because of the lingering moisture and water somewhere in the
mountains. The path led ever onward and upward, and I struggled to keep
up with the steeply rising surface. From here, I could see the lake where
Morgana and Bianor should be. I climbed about ten or fifteen meters; I
needed to get higher.
I sighed. “This can’t be the end of the road.”
My gaze darted around the trees, rocks, stones, and small bushes,
looking for the slightest possibility of moving forward. My gaze stopped at
a lower hill, the only place to climb. It was about five meters high. My
fingers were soon searching for holes, for footholds, carefully climbing
upward. I didn’t allow myself to look down. The surface of the stones was
slippery due to the sub-zero temperatures, so my body felt more and more
tense with each placement of my foot and fingers.
I eventually reached the top, smiling to myself that Desmond’s training
had not been in vain. A small meadow led uphill, and there was a cliff
straight to death. What was I looking for? Frustration grew in my chest. I
took a step backward, and my foot slipped. I windmilled my arms, but I
could do nothing to stop my body from falling.
I collided forcefully with the ground, and my head slammed into a rock,
interrupting my scream of pain.
“Clara, c-can you hear me-e-e?” A crackling voice sounded somewhere
in the distance as my vision went black.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY
CLARA
“The truth is always painful.”

I opened my eyes with difficulty, pain lancing through every part of my

body. With trembling hands, I pushed myself up from the damp rocky
ground, feeling a searing pain in my right shoulder.
“Fuck. Dad, couldn’t you think of a softer way down?” My voice echoed
in the large cave.
I put my hand on my sword, and the blade illuminated my surroundings.
I grabbed my earpiece from where it lay on the ground and put it in, but I
only heard static. No signal. Ahead of me, two tunnels led in different
directions. Only the sound of water dripping filled the enormous space.
I turned off my radio so I wouldn’t hear the static and stared at the
tunnels. Which way should I go? Both sides looked identical, like a narrow
rocky corridor leading backward or forward. Turning on my heel, I chose
the tunnel behind me. The damp surface was slippery, and my muscles
ached from the fall and from trying to keep my balance as I picked my way
through the corridor.
How long had I been unconscious? What time was it? It was so dark. I
had to be inside the mountain. If I didn’t get out soon, I wouldn’t reach
Morgana and Bianor’s campsite before dawn.
A small light was visible ahead, so I sheathed my sword, not wanting to
attract attention. Was this a dragon’s cave? I hoped not. I wouldn’t want to
come face to face with a winged monster.
The end of the corridor opened to an incredible view. Water fell through
a hole high up in the ceiling. Its only source of light was the cold
moonlight. I took a few steps down the slippery surface and put my mouth
to the cold water, drinking greedily, then filled the few bottles in my
backpack for later.
Mossy, uneven stones formed the walls of this new cave, leading back
into darkness on the far side. I hesitated. Forward or back? I scanned the
walls, trying to find any clue. Something about this place felt special, like I
was supposed to be here but just couldn’t see why.
A loud humming sounded from the darkness in front of me. The hair
stood up on my arms, and I sprinted toward the uneven wall. My foot
slipped on the damp stone and I went down, but continued crawling on all
fours. I pressed my body close to the wall, trying to hide between the
protruding rocks.
A terrible roar filled the cave, and I covered my ears. A huge shadow
grew on the other wall as the ground shook beneath my feet and stones
started falling from the ceiling. A crimson dragon came into view, scales
shining in the darkness. It was so close I could count the teeth in its jaws.
I turned my head to the side, trying not to give myself away. My gaze
landed on a strange-colored rock that differed from everything around it.
There was a strange symbol carved into it.
The dragon took a mighty stride deeper into the darkness while I held
my breath. It would not be a wise idea to fight the dragon with a dislocated
shoulder.
As the humming receded, I crawled out of the shadows and squatted
down beside the strange rock, my fingers tracing over the symbol. This rock
was gray, not black like the ones surrounding it. I touched it, tried to press it
like a button, but nothing happened. Why was it here, in a dragon’s cave?
I pulled out the hilt of my sword and struck the gray rock. It crumbled
before my eyes. I froze, listening to see if it had summoned the monster
lurking somewhere deep in these corridors. When the humming didn’t
return, I wiped away the crumbled stone, revealing a small alcove
containing a dusty book with a hard cover and a strange lock on it. I picked
it up, stuffed it into my backpack, and hurried in the direction the dragon
had appeared from, hoping it wouldn’t come back.
I had no idea what the book was or how long it had been hidden here.
The cover and sides reminded me of something deep in my memory, but I
couldn’t place it.
I left my sword in its scabbard as I moved forward. I didn’t want to
attract the dragon with the light, so I had to rely on my senses. A small light
appeared in front of me, revealing an opening blocked by stones. The light
was caused by the moon shining through the gaps.
I bit my lip. Of course it would be easy for the dragon to get out; he was
ten times bigger than me. I tried to push the huge stones with my hands, but
with my bad shoulder, I wouldn’t get anywhere fast.
I paced. I had to get out before that dragon decided to return. Drawing
my sword, I summoned the blade and retreated a few paces. A combination
of movements sent a fireball straight at the stones, which blasted apart.
A roar sounded behind me, and I slowly turned, my gaze darting to the
two white eyes staring straight at me.
“Hi, buddy,” I breathed. “I hope you’re a vegetarian.”
With another mighty roar, the dragon charged.
I sprinted toward the exit. Dust was still heavy in the air from the
explosion, and I ran blindly out of the cave. Then my foot connected with
nothing, and I was falling. Again. This time I reacted more quickly, drawing
my sword and slamming it into the rock wall beside me. My injured
shoulder could not withstand the impact and one hand came off the hilt. I
didn’t have time to brace my legs and cushion the blow, and my body
crashed into the rock wall, knocking the air out of me. I hung there for a
moment, chest heaving, and craned my neck to look for the dragon. It was
soaring in the sky far above, its powerful wings flapping as it circled.
The dragon was blind.
I didn’t take the time to celebrate. I slowly descended the cliff face,
fighting against my sore muscles as they grew tired and shaky. My fingers
began to lose their grip, and my legs struggled to find footholds, but I
finally felt solid ground under my feet. Breathing hard, I took the map out
of my backpack. It was hard to tell where I was. I could see the remains of
buildings on the horizon—maybe Lumera? I was much closer to the city
than to Bianor and Morgana.
I was too exhausted to push toward Lumera on no sleep, so I found a
bigger gap in the mountain and settled in for the night. Sleeping with
dragons was dangerous, but there was no way for me to reach Bianor and
Morgana. Even if I could, I would be too exhausted to spend almost a whole
day on the road.
I ate a quick cold meal, knowing it would be foolish to build a fire near
the dragons’ mountains. Then I curled up in my sleeping bag and
succumbed to my exhaustion.
A violent tremor made me open my eyes. My hand immediately went to
my sword, but it was still dark around me. I had no idea how much time had
passed, and I stuck my head out to assess the situation. A large group of
dragons was flying toward me from the direction of the lake.
 “I’m trying to sleep,” I muttered. “You could be quieter.”
I shook my head, packed my things, and prepared for the journey ahead.
I waited patiently until there were no dragons in the sky and the trembling
above me had stopped, probably from the dragons crawling into their caves.
As I started walking, I turned my earpiece back on and pushed the
button. “Desmond, can you hear me?”
Only crackling and popping answered, and I quickly turned it off.
Apparently, the earpiece had become nothing more than scrap metal thanks
to my fall. I couldn’t contact Desmond or my group members. Everyone
probably thought I had been eaten by a dragon.
A little while later, I took a bottle out of my backpack and greedily drank
water. I should reach Lumera City before Morgana and Bianor, then I’d
have to climb high enough to keep an eye out for them. The sun was about
to reach its highest point; only a few hours to go.
“C-l-lara, can you hear me?” A crackling voice came through the
earpiece.
“Hello? Bianor? Morgana?” I pressed the green button, hoping at least
one of them would hear me.
Nothing but crackling in response. Was it because I was still too close to
the mountains? Or had the fall broken the earpiece completely and the
microphone was no longer working?
There was nothing to do but to keep walking. I soon came across the first
wreckage of the devastated city. Most of the houses had been left in ruins,
the untidy streets littered with bricks. Screams echoed in my memories as I
walked through the forgotten city. So many years had passed, but as I put
my foot down on the uneven asphalt, the image in front of me blurred with
the tears gathering in my eyes. I wiped them away, choking back the
emotion.
I was no longer a little child, no longer the girl who had screamed in fear
and grief.
Leaning against the wall of the nearest house, I rummaged through my
backpack for a water bottle. My gaze fell on an unfamiliar bundle. I
unwrapped it, revealing a map of Lumera, with the food storage location
clearly marked. It was at the old train station. I still knew the city like the
back of my hand; I could get there.
I continued walking, deciding not to wait for Bianor and Morgana. Our
route should have given us a three-hour head start on the other team. I
would have been the first to arrive. Walking became running, and my gaze
scanned my surroundings as they breezed past. The shops that had once
stood now looked like ghost buildings, the houses had become ruins,
whitewashed buildings partially or completely collapsed. My heart was
heavy in my chest, but I had to move on.
The city I had once called home was now just a pile of rubble and ash.
It didn’t take me long to reach the wide staircase leading down to the
underground train station that had once been the main means of transport
from one city to another. The underground station had three exits. I took the
main one in the center of the city, and the other two were much farther
down to my left and right.
In the pitch dark, I drew my sword and illuminated my way toward the
right track. I jumped down, keeping my eyes on the ground. I didn’t know
what I was looking for, but it had to be here. My gaze rested on the ruined
rails, beneath which was a strange metal cover. I held my sword in my teeth
as I squatted and hauled the lid open. I didn’t want to lose the light, even
though the fire was hot on my face.
The chest was full of food and snacks—dried fruit, bottles of water, tins
of oats and pork, nuts, sandwiches packed in airless bags with meat and
with peanut butter, bread, and other goodies. It looked like a treasure trove,
but there was far more food here than was necessary for three people.
Which meant only one thing. This place—
“Choo-choo, here comes the train.” Cole’s voice rang out in the distance.
I dropped the lid and took my sword in my hand, assuming a defensive
position. Cecily and Mervin soon emerged from the darkness, walking
alongside Cole.
“Clara, be reasonable and step back,” Cecily said calmly, pulling her
own sword from its sheath.
There was nothing reasonable about the Ascension Games. What chance
did I have against three well-trained participants? Chances of survival
might be slim, but I wouldn’t blindly obey the opposing team’s words.
In one motion, Cole shot a ball of yellowish light toward me. It
illuminated the entire train station. I performed a blocking maneuver, but
the force of the collision knocked me back a step. The ground shook, and
dust and stones fell from the ceiling. I held my position as Cecily and
Mervin launched attacks of their own. Twilight and white flame traveled
along the ground and walls.
 I launched a flying fireball toward Cole, who stepped to the side and
immediately summoned a shield. I was able to defend against the ball of
fire, but as twilight’s magic approached on the ground, my shield was
already damaged. I jumped to the side to dodge the attack, but threads of
yellowish light grabbed my leg, sending pain throughout my body. I
screamed as my evasive maneuver failed and my body suffered the
consequences.
Cole extended his sword toward me, but Mervin’s hand landed on his
shoulder.
“Don’t be stupid,” Mervin said in a low voice.
I rose from the ground, gripping my sword tightly. My left leg refused to
move. I couldn’t feel the hard surface beneath it, as if it was paralyzed. My
other knee hit the ground, and I shot white flames forward Cole and
Mervin.
Mervin summoned a shield without countering my attack, while Cole
shortened the distance between us. Mervin and Cecily stopped at the chest
lid, but Cole swung his sword at me.
I got off the ground, blocking him, and a shockwave rippled outward. He
attacked my shoulder; I parried. He defended; I attacked. The dark train
station glowed with each blow as our swords collided. My chest heaved as I
twisted sideways, avoiding Cole’s sword slipping past my defenses. With
another flick of his hand, Cole knocked my sword out of my hands, leaving
me defenseless. Grinning maniacally, Cole swung his sword to finish me
off.
A ball of white flame slammed into him, knocking him a few feet away
from me, and my gaze snapped to the culprit.
Bianor smiled broadly as he gestured toward us. “The three of you are
trying to kill one participant, but you’re still struggling.”
Cole glared at Bianor from where he’d been knocked to the ground.
Morgana summoned a shield to protect the food chest from Cecily and
Mervin’s hands, and they snarled their displeasure.
Cole ignored me and attacked Bianor, launching a twilight orb toward
him. My defensive shield, created just a few meters away from him,
deflected the attack, forcing him to slam against the wall and lose
consciousness. Bianor shot me a look of gratitude before leaping forward to
help Morgana, who was fighting hard against Cecily and Mervin. He
unleashed threads of fire traveling along the ground toward Mervin.
 While Morgana and Bianor fought against Mervin and Cecily, I took the
opportunity to open the lid and load everything into my backpack. They
wouldn’t last long. Magic combat was exhausting, and they would soon
resort to hand-to-hand.
A hand landed on my shoulder in a rough movement, pushing me away
from the chest.
“You die here.” Cole’s angry gaze fixed on me as he stepped forward.
I jerked backward at the sight of Cole’s furious face, bloody and coated
with dust and grime. Cole swung his sword, but I kicked him in the leg and
he went down, hitting his head on the rails. I rose, kicking his sword away
and giving him a contemptuous look.
“You die here,” I told him.
In one motion, I plunged my sword into Cole’s thigh. His scream pierced
the darkness around us. I withdrew my sword and walked toward my
backpack, but his arm wrapped around my leg. Turning, I kicked him in the
face with my other foot. His body went limp.
I threw my backpack over my shoulder and turned to the others. Cecily
was backed up against the wall while Bianor struggled to withstand
Mervin’s blows.
“Enough!” My loud voice and filled backpack distracted everyone.
“Cecily and Mervin, step back or this fight will end here.”
“I’d rather die fighting than surrender.” Cecily gripped her sword tightly
as she ran toward me, leaving Morgana behind.
Our swords collided. The release of energy crushed the walls and ceiling
of the old train station. Blow after blow, my body grew weaker, but I
refused to give in.
A distant rumble sounded, and I hesitated long enough that Cecily’s kick
knocked me a few meters away. A light approached from somewhere ahead
at a tremendous speed.
“Clara, get out of there!” Morgana yelled, climbing free of the track.
I surged to my feet and ran with all my strength toward the wall above. It
was as tall as my shoulders, but I hurled myself against the edge. Heat
emanated from the tunnel behind me, and sweat formed on my skin. I tried
to grab a hold and pull myself up, but my injured shoulder gave out. A
strong hand grabbed mine to pull me up just as flames erupted from the
tunnel, shooting down the track and into the opposite one. I rolled onto my
side, covering my face as indescribable heat probably melted my armor.
 “A silly little dragon,” Bianor said after the heat and flames had passed.
Morgana helped me up. “We need to hurry.”
We left the train station and rushed through the deserted streets. The sun
was setting, stars winking into existence above us. It appeared the city of
Lumera would be our stop for the night. I didn’t look back as we walked,
feeling confident that Mervin, Cecily, and Cole were not following us.
“Let’s set up on the outskirts of the city,” Bianor said finally. “It’ll be
safer at night.”
My legs locked up, and the world narrowed to the road in front of me.
The main road leading out of Lumera.
“Clara, are you all right?” Morgana’s hand landed on my shoulder, and
she followed my gaze.
I blinked, but all I could see were memories of Teirac and my father—
here, on this street. In this exact spot.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DESMOND
I stalked down the dark corridors of Eldmoor, one step after another
without finding a place. Milo hadn’t contacted me with further news about
the scar Xaran had left on my shoulder and the scar Honsu, the twilight
dragon, had left on Eoghan’s body.
I made myself comfortable in the Ascension Games lounge and lit a
cigar. Thick smoke escaped my lips. My thoughts could not calm down.
Yesterday, I had lost contact with Clara. What if something had happened?
Did a dragon attack? Had she fallen down the mountain? Had she hurt
herself and couldn’t move?
“What are you doing here alone at this time?” Roger’s voice echoed
through the room.
“Roger, my friend, do you want to join me?” I picked up the bottle and
glanced at the dark figure standing in the doorway.
“Sure, I won’t refuse the offer.” Roger shortened the distance and sat on
the sofa next to me. He took the bottle of whiskey from my hand and
looked at me intently. “Can’t fall asleep? Having nightmares?”
“I’ve lost touch with Clara.”
The corner of Roger’s lips turned up. “You seem to care about her.”
“I don’t think you’d be happy to know that any of your trained
participants have died, Roger.”
“That’s the Ascension Games. Those are the rules. One, two, or three of
them are bound to die. You remember exactly what happened during each
of the Ascension Games, Desmond. It’s inevitable, and not just when
dragons are around.” Roger drank greedily from the bottle. “It is possible to
survive, even on opposing teams. Only the most brutal kill each other, but
everything changes when the dragons arrive. Then there is only survival
instinct.”
“Everything should be different.” I sighed, knowing full well the cruel
truth.
Roger’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Clara’s fine. I heard through
Bianor’s earpiece that she’s back.”
 A huge weight lifted off my chest, but it wasn’t over yet. Tonight, there
would be a fight in Lumera for food. Who would win? It was a guessing
game I couldn’t answer sitting in my office or even on this floor. The only
way to know was to reach my father’s office.
I blew out the sweet smoke of the cigar and took the bottle from Roger
to drink. Intoxicated thoughts were calmer and less crazy.
A sharp pain shot through my back. The bottle slipped out of my hand,
and I slid off the couch, landing on all fours.
“Desmond, what’s wrong with you?” Roger demanded, worry clear in
his voice.
I couldn’t utter a word. My jaw was locked, my fingers tingling, my face
numb. My surroundings became hazy; I felt only pain. Pain radiated from
the scar on my shoulder as if it was being carved with a red-hot knife. I
screamed through clenched teeth as my body collapsed, unable to move
except to stare sideways with a dull gaze.
“M… M...” I tried to utter the word, but to no avail.
Roger’s footsteps hurried away. Had he left me? The pain expanded
slowly toward my upper ribs, toward the arch of my back and neck, leaving
me without the possibility of screaming in pain. As if I was being tortured,
the feeling of hot metal changed to burning. I trembled, and sweat broke out
on my body. My eyelids became heavier, and I could hear my heart beating
loudly in my head. My thoughts became faint, as if they were fading away.
Was this the end? What was happening to me?
Something pricked my shoulder, and the pain subsided little by little. My
vision returned, and my gaze went to Roger kneeling beside me.
“It’s morphine. Should help.” Roger’s forehead furrowed. “What
happened to you?”
“These are the consequences of fighting the dragon,” I grunted,
struggling to get off the ground. Even though I could feel the morphine
working and the pain was almost gone, I still couldn’t move.
A deep sigh left my lips as thoughts assaulted me again. What was it?
What did those images of my body in pain mean? What did I have to do to
make it stop?
The pain suddenly returned as if with a snap of the fingers, and I
succumbed to the darkness.
“You’re back.” A low voice sounded somewhere in the distance, one I
had heard many times.
 Instead of the fear that had blinded me, I now felt determination, a
burning desire, and strength throughout my body. The images before had
been vivid, but this was completely different. I felt everything. The faint
warm wind on my skin, the sunlight dancing on my cheeks, the chill in the
air, the soft moss beneath my feet, the smallest thing around me.
“Who are you?” I asked. This was new. I couldn’t do this before.
“You’re ready, or you wouldn’t be here.”
The voice came from behind me. A strange, warm breeze touched my
back.
My gaze slowly drifted over my shoulder, and I froze. Xaran was so
close, the air he exhaled teasing my hair. His violet eyes were locked on me,
the black scales glistening on his jaws, his purple chest strewn with large
scales, and his horned head tilted slightly to the side.
“Xaran?” Only one word managed to leave my lips.
“Your brain is finally bigger, and you understand what you’re up
against.” A low, slightly mocking voice came from Xaran’s direction.
I stared, glassy-eyed, shocked, trying to understand what was happening.
Dragons could talk? No, that was nonsense. It couldn’t be true. They were
just mon-
“No, we’re not monsters. Humans are the real monsters who have taken
our lives and destroyed the peace.”
“What do you want?” I demanded. “Why me?”
“I will show you, but first you must acknowledge me. You must choose
me.” Xaran’s voice became louder in places and then quieter.
‘“Will the pain end then? How do I do it?”
‘‘The pain will disappear. We will be able to communicate much easier,
and I will show you the truth. I will answer all your questions, but you must
know the consequences.”
Xaran’s voice became loud, causing me to cover my ears. It stirred up
two feelings inside me—endless curiosity and fear. I could hardly
comprehend what was happening, that dragons could talk, that Xaran was
standing in front of me. Or was it just a dream? The aftermath of immense
pain and a mirage?
“I am real. I chose you at our last meeting. I left a mark on you. You
seemed the right candidate; strong, stubborn, dark, fearless.” Xaran eyed
me. “I chose you to show the truth, to show reason, to ask for help. By
accepting the mark on your shoulder, you risk your life.”
 The word “truth” swirled around in my mind. Could I risk my life to
find out the truth? What had happened between humans and dragons? Who
was truly to blame for the war? How could dragons talk? One by one, the
questions came into my mind, but they stayed there, like question marks in
the air.
“What are the consequences of accepting you?” I finally asked.
“I can’t tell you exactly. Our conversation is being monitored. You must
trust me. You must be ready to understand what is coming. You must be
ready to deny all that you have been told until today. My time is limited.”
Xaran tilted his head upward, watching the setting sun.
“Do I have time to think? This is extreme pressure, with strange
conditions and even more terrible consequences.”
Xaran’s violet eyes returned to my face. “No. This is our last meeting. I
have used up too much of my power to show you what you have seen over
the last year. I’m using even more right now to be able to talk to you.
Choose now, Desmond.”
A pressure rose in my chest as if I were standing on the brink of death
and had to decide whether to jump or retreat. Would not accepting the mark
mean the pain would be over, that Xaran would no longer appear in images,
no longer speak to me, and everything would go back to normal?
Despite these tempting facts, one word screamed louder in my head than
any other. Truth. What was the real truth? Or was it just the truth through
the eyes of dragons? Why hadn’t anyone said that dragons could talk? Did
it not happen often?
The time had come to make a choice—to betray the city my father built
and destroy and crush his son, or to follow my destiny. Now was my time to
rule, to be invincible, to make peace between men and dragons.
“I accept the mark,” I said firmly. “I am ready to be on the side of the
dragons.”
The image disappeared, and the lounge came back into focus. Roger was
shaking my shoulder, urging me to wake up, his voice filled with panic.
When he saw I was conscious, his shoulders sagged. “Desmond, you need
to see a doctor.”
“No, Roger. You can’t tell anyone what happened. Promise me that no
one will know about this.”
I pushed myself up to a sitting position. The pain had stopped, but my
body felt exhausted. I collapsed onto the sofa, shaking my head, trying to
regain my normal feeling. I needed sleep.
Roger put his hand on my shoulder, as if fearing that I would lose
consciousness again. “You don’t want me to tell anyone? Do you
understand that you have to see a doctor? Participants go through all sorts
of things after an Ascension Game, but what happened to you... If you don’t
have anyone around you, you could die. This is not the time or place to be
stubborn.”
“You trust me, Roger, don’t you? I know what I’m doing. It’s not the
first time I’ve felt like this. I’ve come to terms with it, and the fewer people
who know, the better.”
“I’ve seen it somewhere. You’re not the only one, Desmond. Alice Porter
only participated in the Games once and then disappeared without reason.
She had the same symptoms.” Roger stopped in the corridor and looked at
me with concern.
“Darian Porter’s wife?” I asked in disbelief. “The man who was killed
just before the Ascension Games six months ago?”
Six months ago, Darian Porter had been murdered just one day before
the Ascension Games began. He had been a volunteer; I remembered him
because it was strange to see volunteers of that age. His wife had
disappeared six years ago, but his involvement, after all this time, was still a
question. Had he volunteered because of grief? A strong desire to die but an
inability to do so? Despair? Burning? Depression? People in this city
disappeared all the time, killed or committing suicide. Not everyone could
endure such depressing living conditions, such constant competition.
Deep down, I had known the reason for Porter’s death and
disappearance, and of course, it had to do with my father.
“Yes. She was in constant pain and had nightmares. She won the prize
even when her husband urged her to stay in Eldmoor and assured her that he
would take care of their expenses. Nevertheless, after the Ascension Games
and the improvement in their living conditions, one day Alice simply
disappeared. Some say they saw her leave through the staircase leading to
the surface; others said she never left her room. Darian couldn’t find her in
the morning, and nobody knew anything. I can still remember how hard he
took his wife’s loss. I was close to their family. We used to spend evenings
together in bars.” Roger didn’t look at me as we walked down the corridor.
“I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but I think...”
 “Porter’s disappearance from the city’s lists is my father’s fault.” The
words escaped my lips. “Did you see anything unusual in Alice’s
appearance?” I stopped at my office and looked at Roger.
“Yes. She was very proud of the scar left on her arm, from wrist to
shoulder.”
“Did the scar have a color?”
“Black.” Roger’s eyebrows rose. “Does that mean anything?”
“Yes. I need to find out more information about the Porter family. Thank
you for the conversation and good evening, Roger.” I put my hand on
Roger’s shoulder and smiled.
“Take care of yourself, Desmond.” Roger nodded and then turned on his
heel and strode down the corridor.
I pushed open the office door, stepped into the sleeping room, and took a
short shower. What was this nonsense? Alice had a scar like mine. Did that
mean I was going to die too?
I looked in the mirror. At my scar. Now I understood why the searing
pain had happened today. The scar was expanding; now it wasn’t only
around my shoulder, but reached my ribs, part of my neck, and part of my
stomach. How could this have happened? Was it because of Xaran and our
agreement?
I lay on the soft bed, trying to shut out my thoughts, until my exhaustion
took over and I fell into a deep sleep.
A knock sounded somewhere in the distance. It was insistent. I rolled out
of bed and put on a pair of jeans and a black shirt buttoned to the top
button. As I entered the office, the sound became more and more
unbearable.
“Come in,” I snapped.
Lazarus stepped through the study door, Milo trailing behind him. He
marched toward me, anger burning in his eyes. “How dare you do this? You
despicable trash.”
I grabbed his arm before he could strike me. “Don’t you have better
things to do than disturb my sleep?” I pushed his arm away and stepped
back, increasing the distance lest he think to try something again.
“How dare you break into my office? What were you looking for? Speak
up!” Lazarus’s jaw tensed.
“You have a break-in, and the first person you think of is me? I am your
flesh and blood, but despite that, I become the first suspect. You should
check your rat army. I’m sure you’ve got a few traitors there.”
“Milo, handcuff him. He’ll be imprisoned until after the Ascension
Games.” Lazarus glanced at Milo, who stood stone-faced.
I didn’t know who it was for sure, but it had probably been Milo. He had
to take action to learn more about Eoghan. The punishment was mine, even
if I hadn’t lifted a finger. I didn’t resist, merely kept a broad smile on my
face as Milo put the handcuffs on my wrists behind my back. Meanwhile,
Lazarus looked at me with a contemptuous gaze.
“So much security, so many cameras recording twenty-four hours a day,
and still you can’t control the situation.” I shook my head derisively.
“Shut up.” Lazarus punched me in the face.
My head whipped to the side, and I tasted blood. Anger rose within me
like the tide. I didn’t know if it was possible to hate someone more than I
hated my father.
Xaran’s voice rang out. “I would gladly bite his head off and use the
bones as toothpicks.”

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CLARA
“I can hear you, but you can’t hear me.”

I stood on the outskirts of the city beside a campfire while Morgana and
Bianor rested in their tents. I admired the setting sun, a sight that allowed
the thoughts to fade so I could enjoy the moment. From my backpack, I
took out the book with a heavy metal lock on it, like a safe, with an
engraved circle of numbers up to a hundred and a turning arrow that moved
freely. What date could it be? I looked up my dad’s date of birth, then my
mum’s, and my own, but none of the combinations matched.
I sighed and snuffed out the bonfire as the stars began twinkling in the
sky. I looked over my shoulder at the destroyed city, the place where my
heart would always be. In the distance, I could hear roars and flapping
wings coming from Flame Mountain. Even at such a distance, the sound
was terrifying.
I put the book back in my backpack, slipped into my tent, and curled up
in my sleeping bag. Maybe my mother would know the answer when she
saw the book, but first I needed to win the Games. My body was sore, my
bruised stomach and arms aching. I rolled from side to side, trying to find a
comfortable sleeping position, but everything hurt. Finally, darkness settled
over me and my body demanded rest.
“Breakfast,” Morgana’s loud voice called.
I packed my things, my backpack, and my tent while Bianor and
Morgana took care of breakfast. Then I settled next to a pile of bricks,
watching the fire. I stuck my earpiece in and pressed the coach line, but all I
could hear was a crackling sound.
“Is the food that unpalatable?” Bianor’s gaze lingered on my face.
“No, my earpiece broke when I was in the mountains. I lost contact with
you and the coach.” I shoveled a spoonful of meat into my mouth.
“Give it to me.” Bianor held out his hand, placing his food to the side.
“What were you looking for in the mountains?” Morgana asked
suspiciously.
 “It’s none of our business. The important thing is that she’s alive.”
Bianor took the earpiece from me and examined it.
Morgana rolled her eyes. “Maybe she’s some kind of dragon
enchantress.”
“This bracelet was my father’s.” I stretched, showing her the outline of
Flame Mountain on my bracelet. “Those mountains meant something to
him, and I wanted to know why. That’s all.”
“Did you find anything?” Bianor pulled out a knife and cut some of the
headphone wires.
I hesitated before answering, the questions lining up in my mind one
after another. Could I trust them with this secret? Morgana had made it clear
during our first meeting that she believed Lazarus’s lies and wanted me
dead. Nevertheless, she had become more bearable during this journey.
Were her good traits coming out because we were a team and had a
common goal? Was Bianor so generous as to want to help his parents and
not take the first opportunity to get a large sum of money in exchange for
information about me and my secrets?
“No,” I said. “It was a mistake that could have cost me my life.”
“Here. This should work, but be careful. The connection could break at
any moment.” Bianor returned my earpiece and rose, returning the items to
his backpack. “We have two and a half days before we reach our final
destination.”
“Next stop: the Silent Forest.” Morgana smiled.
The road led onward. Somewhere up ahead, big trees waved their
branches as if waiting for us. The sun was slowly rising, warming us with
its rays, and the snow had completely melted, giving way to spring.
“What are your plans for when the Ascension Games are over? Do you
plan to participate a second time?” Morgana’s gaze lingered on Bianor, who
walked on her left, and then over her shoulder to where I walked a few feet
behind them.
“Yes. Three more Ascension Games and then I can enjoy my rest,”
Bianor said proudly. “Of course, I have to survive them first.”
“Clara, how about you?”
“I’ll decide when I’m settled in Eldmoor.”
“Ooh, someone is determined to win.” There was surprise in Bianor’s
voice.
 “I can’t just die. I have people waiting for me to come back.” I rolled my
eyes, but none of them saw it.
“Well, you can say that when you meet the dragons.” Morgana laughed.
“The one I met didn’t seem particularly dangerous.”
“You met a dragon?” Bianor asked. “It must have been a little white
flame dragon. They don’t have much of a mind until Teirac is around. Wait
until we meet everyone in one group; then you’ll rethink what you said.”
“I met Teirac when I was seven,” I said. “There is no dragon around that
I am afraid of.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Morgana warned. “Your little brain couldn’t
understand what was going on at the time, but now that you’ve grown up
and understand the danger of dragons, you’ll see the whole situation
differently.”
“My little brain figured out that Teirac ate my father. I think that’s
enough to understand how dangerous they are.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Bianor asked, “How did you
get to Eldmoor? Lumera is far away from the underground city. Was your
father an important person?”
“No. We were just lucky. The military evacuated the population. We
were one of them.”
For a moment, my thoughts went back to my murky memories. Had it
been just a coincidence? Just luck that I had later become the most hated
person in Eldmoor?
“No, it wasn’t a coincidence,” Bianor said. “The army generals had
special lists for each city. I guarantee that your name was on it.”
“Don’t tell me you believe that nonsense.” Morgana punched Bianor on
the shoulder.
“I was on the list to sacrifice my health by doing physically demanding
work on the lowest floor of Eldmoor? What kind of insane people create
these lists, if they exist at all?”
“You should be happy you’re worth at least that much,” Morgana
quipped, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Otherwise, you would have
become nothing but dragon food.”
“Morgana.” Bianor’s voice was full of indignation.
“What?” Morgana held up her hands as if in defense. “I’m just stating
the facts.”
“What cities do you come from?” I asked. “You’re not from Lumera.”
 “Callistar,” Morgana replied.
“Agosax.” The corner of Bianor’s lips lifted.
“And the reason why your names were on the lists?”
Morgana laughed. “Is this an interrogation?”
“My parents were part of the army. That’s probably one of the reasons,”
Bianor answered without hesitation. His gaze rested on me. “What’s special
about your surname or family?”
“Even though everyone hates me, my mum was a librarian, and my
dad...”
“Your dad?” Morgana prompted.
“I don’t remember. I was just a kid. After the dragons appeared, they
took over most of my memories, mixing up the past, crushing the future,
and leaving a deep wound. I try not to think about it. I don’t know what my
dad was, but I’m sure he was a man worthy of respect, otherwise I wouldn’t
be one of the inhabitants of Eldmoor.” My gaze shifted to the slowly setting
sun. “I’m hated, but at least I’m alive.”
Morgana sighed. “My mother is an arms smuggler. It’s not a very
popular or legal business, but it’s the reason we’re alive.”
“We’re almost there.” Bianor’s gaze flicked over his shoulder as if to see
if anyone was following us. “We’ll set up deeper in the woods. That way,
we can make sure the opposing team doesn’t meet us when they enter the
forest.”
“You think they survived the dragon attack at the train station?”
Morgana asked.
“Cole was unconscious, but Cecily and Mervin may have survived,” I
said.
“That will become clear another day.” Bianor looked up at the sky. “It’s
going to be a difficult journey.”
The sun was slowly setting when we found a clearing suitable to make
camp in. Within half an hour, the tents were up and the fire was slowly
burning as we sat in a circle and had dinner. The animal and nature sounds
around us grew louder, and the gray clouds shrouded the sky around us as it
suddenly became dark.
“We have to put out the fire. It’s getting too dark.” Morgana pulled a
bottle of water out of her backpack.
“Don’t waste the water,” Bianor said. “The rain will do it for you.”
I sighed. “Another night in a tent.”
 “Tomorrow will be our last night before we reach Callistar.” Bianor’s
gaze drifted toward the trees.
“We should be there by mid-day,” Morgana mused. “The bigger problem
will be finding the flag.”
“Isn’t the flag marked on the map like the food chest?” I asked.
“No,” Bianor replied. “The flag is only visible in the dark. We all have a
map of the city, but it’s only for orientation.”
Silence fell around us. We all knew full well what darkness meant—
dragons. Damn Lazarus; he knew dragons were most active at night, which
would turn the final goal of the Ascension Games into a veritable slaughter
and survival race.
“Good night,” Morgana said, rising from the ground and heading to her
tent. “See you in the morning.”
I stared at the embers, gray smoke rising as icy raindrops put the fire out,
but neither Bianor nor I rose from our seats. After all the days of traveling,
for the first time, I felt a thrill. Yes, the journey had been exhausting, full of
challenges, and debilitating, but what awaited us would not compare to
memories or dreams. A fight for life and death, a fight for a better place, a
fight for ourselves and our team members. The day when it would become
clear whether the training had been worthwhile and useful.
“Knowing that someone is going to die in a few days is depressing.”
Bianor’s gaze went to the sky.
I closed my eyes, not letting the negative thoughts reach me. Cold
raindrops refreshed my tired face, and a strange, muffled sound came from
the forest.
My eyes opened wide, and I turned to Bianor. “Did you hear that?”
“It’s probably a wolf, a deer, or a doe.” He didn’t take his eyes off the
sky.
I rose from my seat, making my way toward the strange rustling coming
from the forest. Bianor followed, probably not eager to leave me alone after
my little trek to the mountains. Through the dense trees, I could see nothing
in the darkness, but the sound grew closer as we advanced. Suddenly,
Bianor’s hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me. I shot him an annoyed
look, but he only pointed a finger forward, somewhere between the tree
trunks. My gaze followed his lead.
A crimson dragon lay on the ground, his large white eyes peering
around, his chest heaving.
 “Shouldn’t the House of Dragons be Flame Mountain?” I whispered to
Bianor.
“Yes, but it seems he can’t fly,” Bianor murmured back.
Bianor was right. The young dragon’s wing was bleeding. Of course, the
dragon wasn’t small, still five times the size of a human, though that was
considered small compared to Teirac.
I stepped toward the dragon, no longer hiding behind the tree trunks, and
two white eyes immediately stared at me. A low roar rumbled in its chest.
“Clara, what are you doing? You don’t want this dragon to call for help.”
Bianor was still standing behind the tree in the shadows of the night.
“He’s hurt. He needs help.” I stepped forward, then stopped just a few
meters away.
“He needs help?” Bianor whisper-shouted. “The first thing he’ll do when
he gets help is try to kill you.”
“Don’t be stupid. The little dragons have no brains. Yes, they are killers,
and dangerous, but until Teirac is around, they are like babies. If we leave
him here, he will die.”
“And that’s one less dragon we’ll have to fight in the last city. One less
dragon who will submit to Teirac and want to eat you.”
“How would you feel if you were wounded and left to die?” I held out
my hand toward the dragon.
The dragon bared its teeth, backed away, and leaned its body against the
tree trunk. I took another step forward, but the dragon lunged at me. I
managed to jump in the opposite direction, somersaulting to avoid the
attack. The dragon retreated to its previous position, but its intent gaze was
fixed on me.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I murmured, staring at the dragon from a
distance.
“Humans are their enemies,” Bianor said. “What did you expect?”
Another roar rumbled in the dragon’s chest, a warning to move away and
stay away.
Yes, what had I expected? For a moment, I seemed to have lost my
sanity and my judgment. Looking at those white dragon eyes, they seemed
different in the night, as if there was much more hiding inside than a beast
overwhelmed by killing instincts.
I turned on my heel, shaking off those unnerving thoughts.
 “Finally, a wise decision.” Bianor’s hand landed on my shoulder, and I
could hear the pride in his voice.
We returned to the campsite, wishing each other good night. I settled into
my sleeping bag, staring up at the dark ceiling, and pressed the coach button
on my wrist. “Desmond, can you hear me?”
There was only rain all around, no answer on the other side. The strange
sound was no longer in the earpiece, which meant Bianor had fixed it. So
why wasn’t Desmond answering?
“Clara, welcome back.” Desmond’s voice sounded so close, almost
inside my head. “Are you safe?”
I felt strange hearing Desmond’s voice, like a bad feeling had started to
grow inside me. “Yes, I’m fine.”
A deep sigh sounded in my ear. “When your connection was broken, I
thought you were dead.”
“You’re out of luck. I’m still alive.”
“That’s a bad joke,” Desmond said quietly, but I could hear a smile in his
voice.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Problems with Lazarus.”
“Problems?”
“You know, the walls of solitary are very thin, and with the guards sitting
on the other side of the door, I can’t speak very loudly.”
I blinked once. Twice. “Are you locked up in your father’s prison?”
“Yes, and you are the only person who keeps me company. It’s good to
know you’re okay. It’s time for me—”
Static sounded, and the connection was broken.
Lazarus had locked Desmond in solitary confinement. What could have
happened in a few days? Why didn’t he fight? I put my earpiece down and
let my mind wander.
Desmond had been right when he said that when I was here, in total
obscurity on the surface, my thoughts would return to him and the words he
had spoken. A week had gone by, and I kept trying to push the thoughts of
him away, but they kept coming back. That look that burned with violet
flames, those flashes of light through his dark soul, that kiss deeply etched
in my mind. As my body struggled to move forward toward the finish line,
my thoughts kept returning to Eldmoor, to Desmond’s office, a place where
the darkness had seemed scary at first but became strangely cozy with time.
The man I had hated, who had caused negative feelings every day, now felt
different.
With hundreds of kilometers separating us, I felt anxious—something I
couldn’t allow myself to feel. It was as if a small part of me wanted to feel
the anger burning between us, to feel his presence in the same room. In the
midst of all that anger, there was something more, something my body
craved and my mind refused to acknowledge.
There were too many questions in my head. Why should I care?
Nevertheless, I could not help myself. That kiss… but it hadn’t started
there. That anger burning inside me for Desmond had faded with each
meeting. Allowing myself to get to know a man so hated by others, I had
fallen into a trap without knowing it. The day before his father had shown
up at his office, when he was on top of me, looking at me with his dark
eyes, something had changed in me. Though he’d had a hundred and one
chances to kill me, Desmond had stood by my side, defending me from his
father, from the other players, from others...
I got up early, prepared the fire and breakfast, and soon Bianor and
Morgana joined me.
“Have you lost your mind? Trying to help a dragon!” Morgana glared at
me.
“Can we forget it?” I asked with a sigh.
“Enough with the morning scandals. It’s time to go. Next stop: the foot
of the mountains. That’s where we’ll spend our last night.” Bianor started
folding his tent.
Half an hour later, we walked through the forest, the sound of water all
around us, dripping from the trees and somewhere in the distance, the sun
rising through the leaves. A vast meadow stretched in front of us, mountains
looming in the distance.
“Settling down in the middle of a field would be much safer than in the
mountains,” Morgana commented.
“Of course,” I said, “if you want to be attacked by the opposing team.”
“I agree, Clara. It’s much better to fight stupid dragons than humans.”
Bianor smiled.
We had almost reached the halfway point when a great and terrible howl
sounded behind us. I clapped my hands over my ears and turned to look.
“Clara, run!” Morgana shouted.
 I didn’t know who or what it was, but I started running in the same
direction as Morgana and Bianor. The sound grew louder, followed by the
flapping of wings. I stole a glance over my shoulder as I ran. The sky was
dark, but night hadn’t fallen.
A huge swarm of dragons had blocked out the sun. They were flying
from the forest toward the mountains.
Right toward us.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CLARA
“You ran away, and I had so much to say.”

My chest heaved as I sprinted across the meadow. My armor seemed to

press against the ground, and my legs grew heavier with each step. Morgana
ran first, I second, and Bianor lagged slightly behind. The mountains were
visible ahead, growing ever closer, but the roars and the increasing wind
were approaching at a tremendous speed.
I could see the surface structure of the mountains when the earth shook
beneath my feet. One look over my shoulder confirmed it; a dragon had
landed, pinning Bianor to the ground while the others circled in the air. In
one motion, I drew my sword and called Morgana’s name.
“Clara, stay back,” Bianor shouted, pain clear in his voice.
I hurled a ball of white fire toward the crimson dragon. The dragon took
half a step back, just enough for Morgana to help the limping Bianor off the
ground. The beast released an ear-splitting roar, flapping his mighty wings
and buffeting us with a great gust of wind. It lunged forward, opening its
jaw to grasp Bianor, but Morgana had created a shield around them. As the
dragon’s fangs connected with the shield, a tremendous blast of power blew
me backward. My head slammed into the rock.
Behind me, Morgana struggled to stand, looking around.
My ears were ringing from the impact, but I got to my feet. The crimson
dragon charged me, and I stood my ground, readying to create a shield of
my own.
“Clara, hide,” Bianor yelled from behind me. “Inside!”
I held my sword tightly in my hands, waiting as the dragon approached.
Then I slammed the blade into the ground, my knee touching the wet dirt.
White flames erupted, shooting toward the dragon. The creature roared in
pain and backed away.
A firm hand grabbed my arm and pulled me back. Morgana’s dirty face
stared at me. “Come on!”
 She dragged me toward a small cavern at the foot of the mountain, and
we squeezed through the small opening.
The other dragons’ roars continued outside, and the ceiling above my
head trembled with each paw stroke, dust and small stones raining down on
us.
“Bianor, how are you?” I crouched beside a struggling Bianor.
“Their behavior is fucking bizarre,” he said through gritted teeth.
“You should have called for help, damn it.” Morgana slammed her fist
into the wall as she paced back and forth.
Bianor’s left leg had a huge wound. His flesh had been split open and
blood gushed out. The sight of it made my head spin.
“Do we have a first aid kit?” I asked Morgana. “Anything?”
She nodded, pulling a first aid kit out of her backpack. It contained only
painkillers, a needle, sutures, disinfectant fluid, and a few bandages. Not
ideal treatment for fighting dragons.
“Why are there no elixirs?” I muttered, but I already knew the answer.
Because Lazarus didn’t want to make the Ascension Games easy.
I pulled a thread and needle out of the first aid kit and then used my teeth
to uncork a bottle of disinfectant. My hands were shaking, but I couldn’t
leave Bianor here bleeding. We’d have to travel tomorrow.
“Do you even know what you’re doing, Clara?” Morgana sat next to me,
took a pair of scissors, and cut through Bianor’s trousers, clearing the way
to the nasty wound.
“No, but we can’t leave Bianor alone.”
“It’s all right. You have to keep going. I’ll only slow you down,” Bianor
panted.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” I told him. “It’s probably affecting your
brain.”
“Bianor is right. Our time is limited.” Morgana gave me a worried look.
I took the bottle of disinfectant from her and poured it over Bianor’s
wounds. His scream echoed around us, and my feigned calm almost
crumbled. I hated seeing my friend in such pain.
“Have you… done this before?” Bianor asked, squeezing his eyes shut.
“I once sewed my best friend’s torn shirt. It’s something like that, I
imagine.” I forced a smile.
“You’re crazy,” Morgana said, shaking her head.
 “I’m not going to sit by and watch my teammate bleed to death,” I
snapped. “Now shut up and let me concentrate.”
Bianor’s screams continued as I stitched his wound closed. I tried to
work quickly, but my hands were shaking and Bianor’s body was trembling
and his blood made everything slippery. Morgana shoved a piece of rag into
Bianor’s mouth, muffling his screams.
“Thank you,” I told her as I moved to the second wound.
When I was almost finished with the last wound, Bianor’s screams
stopped and his body went limp. He had lost consciousness, but his weakly
heaving chest told me he was alive. I dressed his leg with a bandage,
washed my hands with water, leaned against the wall, and slid down to sit
on the ground. A shuddering sigh left me as Morgana pulled the rag from
Bianor’s mouth.
“Well done, Clara, but it won’t help Bianor reach the finish line.”
Morgana sat down next to me with a serious look on her face.
“I know,” I said quietly.
There was not even the slightest possibility that Bianor, with his
critically injured leg, would be able to travel. Even though the wound was
closed, it would take weeks for it to heal completely. Traveling together
would take much longer. Instead of one day, we would be traveling several.
It would guarantee a fight between the three of us for the one remaining
place, as the opposing team would have already confirmed themselves with
the flag.
Despite my nagging thoughts, I didn’t want to leave Bianor alone. He
had shown his true character since the start of the Ascension Games Trials.
While everyone hated me, he was different; he had believed in me and
defended me even when I didn’t need it.
Morgana provided some wet sticks, asking me to start a fire using the
sword flame. She made dinner, but my stomach felt like it was tied in knots,
and the thought of eating made me want to gag.
“I know food is not on your mind right now, but you have to eat,”
Morgana said. “Tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day.”
I agreed, so we ate our dinner in silence. When we were finished,
Morgana placed a cool bandage on Bianor’s forehead, and I sat at the cave
exit looking up at the stars. Leaving a teammate behind sounded tragic, but
not reaching the last town because of him would be even worse. There had
to be a way to ensure Bianor’s victory.
 As my thoughts went round and round, Morgana settled into her sleeping
bag and curled up by the fire, the embers glowing faintly. There was a
muffled trembling in the rock, the constant sound of dragons stirring within
the mountain. When my eyes grew heavy, I curled up in my sleeping bag
and my body soon succumbed to sleep.
“Time to get up,” Morgana said sometime later.
I opened my eyes with difficulty and took care of the fire while Morgana
made breakfast. Bianor was still unconscious, but his fever had subsided.
“Do you think Bianor will be up before we leave?” I asked.
“I hope he doesn’t die before we return to pick him up after the
Ascension Games.” Morgana’s gaze lingered on me.
Yeah, that was the only thing we could hope for, knowing that Bianor
was doing this for his parents and wouldn’t make it to the finish line. It
would guarantee that he could for the next Ascension Games.
We put out the campfire, packed our backpacks, and walked toward the
cave exit. The sun was slowly rising, painting the sky yellow and pink.
“Even if we reach the city first, we will have to wait for nightfall.”
Morgana bent down to crawl through the cave opening.
“Morgana.” Bianor’s faint voice sounded behind us.
Morgana and I returned to Bianor, who tried to sit up, but to no avail.
“Bianor, you need to rest.” Morgana sat down next to Bianor and put her
hand on his forehead.
“I can’t lose the Ascension Games.” Bianor’s voice broke. “But I don’t
think that’s for me to decide.”
My heart ached for him. I had to do something. There had to be a way to
change this.
Bianor’s gaze lingered on me, a weak smile playing on his lips. “You
have shown great courage, Clara. If it weren’t for your determination to
fight the dragon and free me, I probably wouldn’t be here.”
“Either of you would have done the same.”
“Go on. It’s time for you to go. I’ll be fine.” Bianor’s attention shifted
toward Morgana.
She nodded once and stepped out of the cave while I remained standing
in place, looking at Bianor. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his face,
trying to find the slightest hope, the smallest reason that could change this
man’s fate.
 As my eyes flicked open, my gaze rested on Bianor’s hand, on the
bracelet that glittered there.
“Of course. Bianor, give me your bracelet. It’s the key to securing your
place at the flag at the end of the Ascension Games.” I kneeled beside
Bianor, trying to unfasten the bracelet.
“Clara, if you do this, Bianor won’t be able to communicate with us.”
Morgana lurked at the cave exit. “We won’t know if he...”
“Even if I don’t survive, my place will guarantee money for my parents.
That’s enough for me.” Bianor unclasped the bracelet, holding it out to me.
“Don’t you dare give up until we get back,” I said as I walked toward the
cave exit, glancing over my shoulder one last time at Bianor.
“You realize this is a big responsibility, right?” Morgana whispered to
me.
“Responsibility? It’s the possibility that Bianor might win the prize, and
I’ll be the person who’s determined to do it.”
“Great. In case of defeat, it will be on your shoulders.”
“Your attitude is truly inspiring,” I said flatly.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to make sure we reach the finish line
together.” Morgana glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.
As we continued our journey, the sun rising higher and higher, the
outline of the city’s ruins finally loomed ahead. I couldn’t get Bianor out of
my head, alone in a cold cave, injured and probably worried about us.
“What is life like in the lowest level of Eldmoor?” Morgana asked
suddenly.
“Probably like the gossip and rumors you’ve heard from those who live
higher up.”
“You sleep with the rats?” she asked, clearly surprised.
I let out a short laugh. “No, that’s just gossip. The lighting is always
poor, the humidity in the air is stifling, and diseases spread quickly. There’s
one communal canteen, a small clothes shop, several washing machines,
and communal showers. It’s like a giant dormitory for hundreds of people.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad.”
“You wouldn’t last five days.”
“Hey, don’t forget we were all once on the lowest floor.” Morgana
paused. “I just wanted to see what has changed in all that time.”
Yes, of course. Morgana’s mother had moved her to a better floor, but
before then, she had lived on the lowest floor of Eldmoor. Living in luxury
could probably make you quickly forget about the hard years of your life.
“What is your relationship with Erasmus and Cole?” I asked.
“Why should we have anything in common? They are just friends,
people who have supported me on this floor, understood me, stood up for
me, have been there when...”
“That was your job, right? That night I was attacked by Erasmus and
Cole.”
“No.” Morgana shook her head. “If I wanted to attack you, I would have
done it myself. I don’t let strange hands interfere in my affairs. Erasmus and
Cole, they are not obedient to me. They are just friends with their own
brains and opinions.”
“You know the truth, though. The reason why they decided to attack
me.”
“Money can do a lot.”
“You’re not going to tell me the truth, are you?” I glared at her. “They
tried to rape me, you bitch!”
“I still hate you, just less than usual these days.” Morgana didn’t bother
looking at me. “Just because I tolerate your existence doesn’t mean we’re
friends.”
Mervin had been right. Morgana had a painful past, which was why her
façade was so dark. The reason why she was bearable one moment and I
wanted to punch her the next.
We fell into tense silence, with only the sound of the wind for company.
As I walked, I kept glancing over my shoulder toward the mountains. I
couldn’t risk being suddenly attacked by dragons again.
“What is your relationship with Desmond?” Morgana asked a while
later.
“None of your business.”
She sighed. “I’d advise you to be careful. Desmond is not the kind of
person you want to fall in love with.”
“Fall in love? I hate Desmond with every fiber of my being. His father is
to blame for the rumors and gossip that my father caused the war. Desmond
is arrogant, dark, and cruel, just like his father.” I spat out the words, feeling
a sickness rising inside.
“That kiss didn’t seem full of anger.” The corner of Morgana’s lips lifted.
“Your interference doesn’t seem very helpful.”
“Of course, of course. Do as you wish.”
 I didn’t believe a word Morgana said, and I wasn’t going to listen to
stories about Desmond.
We continued on our way, finally reaching the first wreckage of the city.
We climbed an abandoned apartment block and decided to make lunch
since the sun was at its highest point. From the nine-story building, I could
see almost the whole city, not just the outskirts where the residential areas
stretched. Morgana sat on the edge, lost in thought, looking down at the
devastated city. I understood how she felt. It was strange to see the place
where you grew up destroyed. Childhood memories turned into nightmares,
windy days into horror in one single event.
As the sun set, anxiety began to build within me. “How well do you
know this city?” I asked Morgana.
“Like the back of my hand. I know every street, hideaway, nook, and
shop.” Morgana’s lips turned up as she looked at the setting sun. “My
mother and I were always on the move, from early morning until late at
night. The streets became one of my favorite places, knowing every turn,
every door, and the faces that lived behind them.”
The weather, which had been pleasant and a bit chilly, suddenly changed.
The wind picked up, bringing gray clouds promising rain. The city was
engulfed in fog as the first drops began to fall from the sky and shadows
shrouded the streets.
“It’s time to start.” Morgana pointed to a large building in the distance. A
small blue light was visible there.
Hurrying down the stairs, icy raindrops immediately fell on my face as
we left the apartment building. The haze reduced the visibility to seven
meters, which was going to cause a lot of problems.
“Keep up with me and keep your hand on the hilt of your sword.”
Morgana glanced over her shoulder as she moved down the narrow street.
In this case, I was glad Morgana knew all the narrow passages. We had
less chance of running into the opposing team, who were probably traveling
along the main streets. “How long will it take us to get there?”
“Twenty-five minutes,” she replied curtly.
Silence fell around us again, but it was exactly what we needed. Muffled
footsteps, falling rain, and steady breathing were all I could hear. I tried to
listen to every sound, but I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. No
dragons, no people, just emptiness.
 Then a great roar shattered the silence, and five huge shadows soared
overhead.
I pressed my body against the wall, trying to merge with the shadows.
“How do they know where we are?”

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DESMOND
How many days were left? What day was it now? I had lost count as I
stared at the gray walls of the small room. I tried to control the anger and
anxiety rising inside me, but it was all starting to sink in.
“You know you could walk out of here with a wave of your hand, right?”
Xaran’s low voice rang in my head.
Yes, but the consequences could be brutal. Better to wait a few more
days. Sometimes being invisible without drawing attention to yourself is
better. Sometimes you have to be down to take it all in, to think things
through. Patience is sometimes the best weapon to move forward with your
head held high. We have time, plenty of it, to assess the situation, to think,
to learn more.
“So powerful, yet so fragile at the same time. You look completely
different on the outside, Desmond.”
Killing isn’t the only way out of this place, Xaran.
“Death is an inevitable part of revolution. Those who have spent so
many years angering the dragons will die, and those who fear and flee will
suffer. It is inevitable.”
Many people deserve to suffer, but there are many more in this city who
are not to blame for what happened between humans and dragons. The end
of the Ascension Games should be near, which means getting out of this
despicable prison cell. How is she holding up? Has she achieved what she
wanted?
“Clara, Clara, Clara. All I hear these days is this woman’s name ringing
in your head. The feelings you have for her are pure burning anger. I can
feel it. Nevertheless, you can’t stop thinking about her. What am I
missing?” Xaran’s voice became inquisitive.
Simply put, it’s none of your business. Our goal is the same, to get rid of
the people we both hate. After all this, the survivors and the deserving will
be able to return to live on the surface. Let’s not talk about people who
aren’t involved in our plan. Tell me more about what happened. Why did the
dragons attack humanity so suddenly? Without answers, I won’t be able to
help you find the culprit and bring justice.
“It was many years ago, but the fact that what they stole has still not
been recovered suggests that the people are alive.” There was pure rage in
Xaran’s voice. “They were two men who had formed a bond with dragons,
who had spent years together and had become our friends. One of them
betrayed us and stole a relic precious to the dragons, destroying the peace,
declaring war, and pitting two peaceful civilizations against each other.”
Although the information was rather vague and unspecific, it was
enough for me. It confirmed that two men were responsible for the whole
war. Could it have been Clara’s father? It could have been anyone, even one
of Eldmoor’s inhabitants quietly hiding underground. Are there more details
you could give me?
“The book and the medallion, the two things they kept with them at all
times. That’s all I can say. My memories are not as clear as I would like.”
A knock sounded on my cell door, and Xaran instantly retreated from my
thoughts. It was strange to hear a dragon’s voice in my head, but it was no
longer painful.
The door opened, and Milo peered at me. “You have a visitor.”
He waited for me to step through the door, then led me down a narrow
corridor to the room where prisoners met their visitors. Chad sat at a table
in the center of the room, his arms crossed on the surface.
“Ten minutes.” Milo retreated, leaving us alone.
Chad instantly jumped up from his chair, hugging me and clapping me
on the shoulder. Then we settled at the table facing each other as his
anxious gaze traveled over my face.
“What have you done, Desmond?”
“I obey my father, as always,” I said in a low voice. I was well aware
that this room was being watched. One of the walls was transparent, and
several guards sat on the other side collecting information—every word
uttered in this room. Speaking the truth here was extremely dangerous and
Chad knew it.
“Did you break into your father’s office?” he asked. “I hope you found
what you wanted.”
“I’ll only find it when I get out of this hole.”
His gaze became intent on mine. “Is there anything I can do to alleviate
the current situation?”
 “No, your visit is enough to brighten my day.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look different.” Chad’s eyes narrowed,
silently demanding answers.
“Yes,” I said shortly. I couldn’t say what Chad saw that made him think I
had changed, but this wasn’t the place or time to talk about it. Not with
three pairs of eyes watching us.
Chad’s brow furrowed. “Your eyes...”
“You need to leave, now.” Xaran’s voice sounded sudden and stern.
“It’s time.” I rose from my chair, gesturing toward the exit.
What the hell? Could I have changed so much that my best friend
suspected something? If the agreement between Xaran and me was visible
on my face, it meant only one thing: death. I couldn’t disappear like the
people in this city who had the mark. I had to be more careful.
“Your eyes,” Xaran said in my head. “They’re different. You have to
learn to hide it, otherwise you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”
You’re just telling me this now? It could have killed us both. How do I fix
this? Hide it?
I walked back down the corridor toward my prison room, and as the door
closed, the dragon spoke again.
“It can only kill you, not me. I was just curious about the relationship
you have with the people of this city, so it’s my fault. Every time I cross the
boundary into your mind, your soul, your body, you become a little
different.”
Your actions do not match your words. Don’t be so arrogant, or our plan
will fall apart before it even begins. One wrong look, one wrong word, and
it will all burst like a bubble.
“I need to know what is going on around me. You can’t tell me; you’re
just a weak human.”
You need to reduce your ego, or we will not become a team. Do you want
to kill me or help me? You won’t get far with that attitude.
Xaran disappeared, leaving me alone with my thoughts. These days I had
forgotten what it was like to be in silence, to not hear the voice in my head.
I lay on the single bed, staring up at the dark ceiling of the room. My
eyes grew heavy, but a loud knock on the metal door pulled me out of half-
sleep.
My father stepped through, surrounded by several guards and giving me
an indignant look.
 Next to Lazarus stood a person I didn’t expect to see—Chad. One look
was enough for me to realize that something was wrong.
“Why is Chad with you?” I asked coldly.
Lazarus grabbed Chad’s shoulder in a rough movement. Something
flashed in his other hand and stopped at Chad’s chest. A knife, pointed
directly at his heart.
My breathing came faster as I looked at my best friend, who seemed
perfectly calm.
“I’m locked up. I haven’t done anything. Is that not enough? Chad’s got
nothing to do with it, Lazarus. Don’t you dare touch my best friend.” I got
up from the bed but stopped instantly as the blade nicked Chad’s skin,
drawing blood.
“You and your despicable friend are causing problems, and I won’t be
merciful just because you are my son, Desmond. Now is your time to tell
the truth.” Lazarus’s cold glare seemed to burn a hole in my head.
With one swift movement, my shadow dagger crashed into the guard’s
leg, forcing him to kneel. His scream of pain echoed in the cell. My next
dagger struck my father’s cheek, cutting deeply into his skin. Lazarus
would not move first; he would retreat, aware of the danger. He wouldn’t
risk the lives of his trusted guards for what he considered a despicable and
lowly best friend.
“If you touch my friend again,” I said, fury in every word, “next time I’ll
hit you where it counts. Let go of him and act like a man.”
Lazarus pushed Chad to the guards, who soon disappeared from sight.
This left me alone with Lazarus, who leaned against the doorframe,
watching me intently. It was pointless, repeating the same words as if they
were bouncing off the wall. No matter what words passed my lips, Lazarus
would never believe them.
“Now that it’s just the two of us, are you going to be honest and tell me
what you were looking for in my office?” Lazarus’s expression was a pure
mask of ice.
“I was looking for information on the Porter family,” I lied.
My father froze. It was enough for me. “Porter, you say? Did you find
what you were looking for?”
“Darian Porter was killed before the Ascension Games. It was your
doing, if I’m not mistaken. As for Alisha Porter, I think you had a hand in
her disappearance as well. How did these people get in the way of your
life?”
“Those are strong accusations, son. Do you have proof?” Lazarus merely
looked at me, his face a mask of calm.
Lazarus was right; I had no proof of the death of any of these people or
that Lazarus had done it. If I had been the person who broke into his office,
perhaps I would know all the answers.
“Alisha Porter chose a different life—free, independent. It was her
decision,” Xaran said in my mind. “This town was a prison for her, and now
she is free.”
The dots seemed to connect. Roger had mentioned the black mark on
Alisha’s arm, meaning she had been marked by Xaran. She was dead now.
That was the only justification I could afford. Is she dead? Is this what
you’re doing? Is it your failed bargain? Is the same thing waiting for me?
“You are the only predator in this society standing at the very top of the
food chain,” I said to my father.
Lazarus's gaze fixed on me and the corner of his lips rose. As if my
words were the perfect description of his title, the face beaming with pride
soon disappeared behind the closed door of my cell.
“Can’t I just kill him?” Xaran demanded, indignant.
For once, I’d approve of your desire to kill, but we need him alive.
Lazarus will cause us obstacles, but until we know all the details, the
identities of the traitors, we can’t destroy this society. I understand that you
are anxious for peace to prevail and for those who have harmed the
dragons to accept their justice, but there must be a time and a place for
everything. How do you know about Alisha Porter? Was she part of the
deal, just as I am now?
“No. Alisha chose another path, leaving this life underground and
choosing a life on the surface where she is not bound by any laws or selfish
people.”
Another path? Does this mean that humans still live on the surface?
She’s alive? Your words make me doubt your truthfulness. Are you going to
give me more than vague facts?
“You must trust me. You will learn in time, Desmond. For the time
being, we are too few to tell you the whole truth. When we are all ready to
act, it will be over in a flash,” Xaran said impatiently. “Now are you going
to tell me more about the woman named Clara?”
 I think you’ve spent enough time in my head to know who this woman is,
Xaran. She is hated by the entire city because my father believes that her
father is responsible for the war. I was a child at the time, and no more
specific information has been revealed. Maybe it’s an allegation, or maybe
it’s true. I don’t know.
“Good, then we know our next target—Clara.”
No. Until we know the truth, we can’t just do that. It’s tactless and stupid.
Xaran, you can’t touch her, understand?
Every cell in my body was screaming danger, and I couldn’t do anything
about it. Clara was on the surface. If Xaran decided to attack her...
Clara’s father is dead. She doesn’t know anything about him. We’re
going to leave her behind and move on to the next man with the medallion,
whatever that means.
“There is a side you keep quiet about, right? Underneath the anger,
underneath the belief in all the rumors, is there something more coming
from inside you for this woman? Care, attraction, passion?”
I couldn’t allow myself to think. Every thought or feeling running
through my body, when Xaran used his powers to contact me, he felt
everything the same as I did. He could even see some of my thoughts. It
was irritating.
Will telling the truth make you stop your stupid thoughts about wanting
to kill Clara without a motive?
“Yes.”
You’re right. This woman makes anger boil inside me. Her character, her
demeanor, her mannerisms, every detail of her makes me shudder. But as
the days went by, things became more controlled and more understandable.
Her inside, her reasons, her purposes, her desires, it turned everything
upside down. Yes, she is still unbearable, but after so many days of not
seeing her face, I have come to realize she changes something in me with
her very presence. Every time our eyes meet, it’s as if a little black part of
my soul turns gray.
“You care about her, so she’s your problem. Find out who her father was
and whether the rumors about her are true. I will leave you alone.” Xaran’s
voice trailed off.
As the hours passed, I couldn’t sleep thinking about the conversation
between Xaran and myself. What had he meant when he said they weren’t
all ready yet? What was really behind Alisha’s disappearance? Was the
same thing waiting for me? What was that important relic to the dragons?
Where was it now?
Finally, my thoughts calmed down, and I stretched my hand toward the
ceiling. My mind wandered to Clara, and shadows began to spread from my
fingers, gathering on the deck. The shadows intertwined with each other to
create the shape of a face, eyes, and lips. After a few seconds, Clara’s
unsteady face stared back at me. The feeling of emptiness in my chest grew
with every second I looked at the imperfectly smooth features of her face. I
knew she wasn’t there, but my fingertips still reached for her, longed for
her.
That was what Xaran had meant when he said I could easily escape from
this prison room. The shadow magic that was only in the sword seemed to
have spread throughout my entire body now. It could be used not only in
combat but for other incredible things that were new to me. It was another
small detail that had changed about me. Would things continue to be like
this? Would I keep changing until I no longer recognized myself?

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CLARA
“It’s been many years, where are you?”

The dragons circled the nine-story building, and several of them crawled
on top. The rain fell relentlessly from the sky while Morgana and I hid in
the shadows. The finish was within reach, but getting there would be a
deadly task.
“What now?” I whispered.
“It’s the clock tower, one of the highest places in the city, of course. That
asshole Lazarus.” Morgana scowled. “There are only two ways to reach the
top. Either by the stairs, which will probably be collapsed, or by climbing
up the walls on the outside. Both are dangerous. We cannot move forward
now, or we will draw the dragons’ attention.” She stepped into the deserted
shop, sheltering from the rain.
“We can’t delay too long. Cole, Cecily, and Mervin could show up at any
moment.”
“They won’t be stupid enough to draw the dragons’ attention to
themselves, and that’s the only way to move forward.”
“Someone will still have to make the first move. We aren’t going to wait
all night for it to get light and the dragons to leave, are we?”
“A step forward could be fatal.” Morgana looked at the dragons flying in
the dark sky. “There are four dragons and only two of us. The opposing
team is more likely to step forward. There are more of them, and they have
a better chance of standing against the dragons. Once the fight starts, we
can sneak by them.”
“This is stupid,” I muttered.
“You have a better plan?” Morgana’s gaze lingered on me.
“No.”
I ran through different options, strategies, and ideas. Waiting seemed like
a big mistake, especially when the flag was just within reach. One by one, I
listed in my head the things I knew about dragons, trying to find one
suitable option that would not be disastrous.
 “Light,” I said suddenly. “That is the answer.”
“I’m listening,” Morgana said.
“The flame would draw attention away from the flag. It could be our
chance for victory.”
“You’re the only one with flame magic. It sounds more like a suicidal
plan.” Morgana’s forehead etched a few lines.
“It shouldn’t be hard to light the wreckage. Fire magic is much stronger
than ordinary fire. It would buy us some time, make sure we get at least part
of the way up the clock tower.” My gaze turned toward the ruined city.
“We can try. Sounds like a pretty solid plan. Would you prefer the inside
of the tower or the outside?” Morgana’s gaze shifted toward the ruined
tower.
“Outside. When the dragons have gone far enough, hurry inside. I’ll
meet you at the top.”
I stepped through the broken glass window, choosing the direction I had
come from. Before I could move away, Morgana’s hand landed on my
shoulder, stopping me. I shrugged it off, meeting her eyes in silent question.
“Up this narrow street, you should find a wooden building. You’re not
going to set fire to the bricks, Clara,” she said, her tone slightly mocking.
“When the dragons start moving in your direction, cross the building on
your right so you’re on the next street and not being targeted by the
dragons. It will lead you back here.”
“Thank you.”
I stepped forward, leaving Morgana standing in the rain. Did I trust her
words? Her advice? Her insights? No, but I had no choice. This was our
only logical plan for victory. Twilight magic wasn’t bright enough to attract
the attention of dragons, which was why Morgana wasn’t suited to the task.
“Clara.” Morgana’s voice could be heard in the distance.
I turned to look over my shoulder at Morgana, who stood at the end of
the street. Her expression was serious.
“Be careful.” With those words, Morgana disappeared.
I hurried forward. My walk became a jog in the cold rain falling without
mercy and the roars coming from behind me. My gaze searched for the
remains of a wooden building, but all I could see were collapsed brick
houses. There! I finally found it.
I summoned the flames of a sword and touched the blade to the wooden
ruins of the house, but the flames were extremely slow to light. The wood
was drenched.
This would take an eternity.
My gaze shifted to the dragons still circling the clock tower. They didn’t
pay attention, which meant the flame was too small for them to be
interested. I took a few steps back and sent a ball of flame flying straight
into the wreckage. The force of the blast knocked me into a brick building.
The flames burned so brightly that the heat made me cover my face and
jump up from the ground, trembling from the impact.
Glancing toward the sky, I saw the dragons speeding in this direction. I
tried the door of the house, but it was locked, so I sprinted for a nearby
broken window and dove inside., Outside, the wind rose, followed by a
series of deafening roars. The dragons had arrived.
I ran through unfamiliar rooms to the other side of the house, then
climbed out of another window and ran down the narrow street ahead. The
flapping of the dragons’ wings caused a strong wind, and I glanced over my
shoulder but only saw three dragons. Where the hell was the fourth? Ahead,
the tower loomed at the end of the street.
“Morgana,” I yelled.
“Come on!” Morgana’s voice came from somewhere in the direction of
the tower.
I glanced toward the dragon who was still guarding the flag as I ran. He
was at the top, rummaging around. The uneven wall of the tower was made
of stones. I reached it and began climbing, my hands and feet scrabbling for
jagged areas to use for my ascent. One indentation after another, pushing
off, I tried to move as quickly as possible. The wet surface of the wall did
not improve the situation, and the stones that had fallen off in places made
it even more difficult. My arms were tense, my chest heaving, nerves
building with each step up.
Until I reached a giant hole in the wall preventing me from going
upwards.
“Shit.”
I had to think. Getting around would take time I didn’t have. Every
second counted now.
A loud roar nearby jerked me out of my thoughts. The remaining dragon
began to descend from the tower. I dug my feet firmly into the stones,
resting my body against the hole in the wall. The dragon continued to
descend, bricks falling one by one from its weight.
 My attention turned to Morgana, who was slowly moving up the stairs,
using the walls as a way out of the collapsed areas. As the danger receded, I
clung to the uneven stones as I moved upwards, trying not to look down.
Up, up, up. With every move, I felt more confident that the finish line
was within reach.
There was a crunching sound, and I glanced over my shoulder. A huge
yellow ball was heading this way.
“Morgana, cover!” I yelled.
The magical ball of twilight slammed into a wall nearby. I lost my
balance but managed to swing my sword into the wall, returning to my
previous position.
Good thing Cecily’s aim was terrible.
Cecily, Cole, and Mervin stood a few meters away from the tower with
their heads up. Mervin moved toward the inside of the tower, and Cecily
unleashed another attack. I was backed into a corner; all I could do was
stick my sword in the wall and hope I wasn’t knocked down by another
blow. Cecily’s attack bounced off a shield created by Morgana, who was
one floor higher than me. The collision of magic and the shockwave
buffeted me, but I managed to stay in place.
“Keep going,” Morgana called. “I’ll take care of the protection.”
Cole began to climb the wall, not wanting to be left behind, and Cecily
launched another attack, this time aiming for the tower’s foundation. I
changed my trajectory, traveling along the inner walls of the tower, thus
preventing my opponents from easily targeting me and knowing my exact
location.
“Morgana, take care of Mervin. He’s low.” My gaze drifted down toward
Mervin, who had already put together the right-hand combination, but
Morgana was quicker. She aimed straight for the stairs above, turning
everything below it into a pile of rocks and dust. I tried to ignore the danger
on my heels and tried to catch up with Morgana, who was moving fast.
“That should hold him back,” she said with a wicked smile.
The sound of twilight’s magic reverberated. A huge hole opened in the
wall five meters away from me. The surface of the bricks became unstable,
and the force of the collision made me close my eyes. My breathing became
labored. I was the easiest target in this group, up against the wall and unable
to fight.
 I shoved those thoughts out of my head as I moved upward and slightly
to the right, expecting another attack from Cecily. Morgana climbed up the
stairs above me.
A series of roars made me freeze in place.
“They’re coming back,” Cecily screamed.
An unexpected stop, another hole in the wall. I poked my head out.
Cecily was nowhere to be seen. Somewhere down below, Mervin was
climbing up the wall far behind us. A combination of hands and sword sent
flames down the wall, and he immediately thrust his sword into the wall to
avoid falling. The flames burned his hands, and he screamed as he let go.
But Cecily’s arm popped out of somewhere to keep him from falling—
probably another hole in the tower.
My gaze shifted to the dragons that were flying at high speed in this
direction. “We’re out of time, Morgana.”
“Don’t stop, no matter what happens,” she yelled back.
The wind whipped around, and the roar that followed behind made my
blood curdle. Ignoring the deadly conditions, I hurtled upward, one large
stone after another, one leap after another. The walls of the tower began to
shake as a dragon landed on top of it, crushing the walls on the other side of
the tower with his claws.
My heart beat faster with each passing second. The gullet leading to the
clock and the flag was so close. I reached forward, clinging to it, and the
wall beneath me crumbled as the dragon tore it down with its sharp claws.
My body went into a free fall, but instinct saved me yet again. I slammed
my sword into the wall and braced my legs to take the brunt of the collision.
A yellowish ball struck the dragon above my head, knocking it off the
wall. I nodded my thanks to Morgana and kept moving.
Something hot slammed into the wall I was holding onto, knocking me
to the stairs on the opposite side. My head spun, and the sound in my ears
went distant. I could feel warm liquid running down my forehead, and my
gaze drifted toward Cole, smiling broadly on the lower floor of the tower.
They had decided to use the inside as cover, but it wouldn’t last long.
“Clara!” Morgana’s voice echoed far away.
There was a huge explosion. The surface beneath my body started to
shake, and everything snapped back into focus. A dragon’s head popped
through the stone wall right in front of Cecily and Cole below, forcing my
body to recoil and grab onto the wall to stand. My head was spinning, but I
kept moving. I refused to meet my end here. Up the stairs, with only a few
to go, Morgana reached out her hand to pull me up. We were behind the
hands of the clock, the numbers, but where was the flag? I crouched down,
looking around, trying to hide from the two dragons flying around, but I
couldn’t see the finish line.
“There!” Morgana pointed to the flag at the end of the clock hand. The
path to reach it was narrow, just wide enough to step one foot in front of the
other.
A dragon landed in front of us, staring at us with its empty eyes. It
destroyed everything in its path as it crawled toward us. I sent fire shooting
across the stone floor. The dragon roared in pain, flapped its mighty wings,
and retreated. Stupid as they were, the weight of their bodies and the
flapping of their wings would soon turn this building into a pile of stones.
“Go! I’ll cover you.” Morgana stepped slightly to the side, drawing her
sword and preparing for the next attack.
I walked forward on a firm surface that soon became narrow and
slippery. One foot in front of the other, I tried to keep my balance against
the strong wind. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dragon flying toward
me, and I drew my sword. A bright yellowish ball flew past me, hitting the
dragon directly and causing it to retreat.
Exactly fifteen meters to the flag.
“Game over!” Cole’s voice rang out behind me. He swung his sword at
the stones, sending flames underfoot.
A dragon’s jaws snagged his legs and whipped to the side, sending him
flying off the tower. His agonized scream echoed, punctuated by a distant
thud.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Just like that. One wrong step, and…
I stepped forward in a crouch, reaching for the flag. A strong wind
buffeted me, and my foot slipped. I didn’t have time to draw my sword. My
hands gripped the edge, sliding on the wet surface.
Five fingers left. Four. Three…

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DESMOND
I had lost count of the number of days that there had been no contact
with Clara.
My shadows wandered around Eldmoor. The walls couldn’t imprison
them; it was the only thing that kept me from going mad. I sent them down
corridor after corridor, trying to find even a small piece of useful
information. When I began to tire, I called them back and returned to where
my body lay in my cell.
How had Eldmoor survived the war? Could the dragons have slaughtered
the entire human race, and the lucky ones were the ones who had managed
to hide? Xaran had said they were only looking for two people, two males,
but why kill everyone? I had never seen any sign of life on the surface
during any of the Ascension Games. So many people had been slaughtered,
so many families, so many women, men, and children, because of a single
wrong action. Because of theft. How greedy must humans be? Did we not
believe in consequences or fate?
I was struck by a memory that flashed through my mind like a sudden
lightning bolt, sending unpleasant shivers down my spine.
Milo and I were sitting together on the marble floor of the gym, waiting
for our father. This training session would determine who was stronger, who
was smarter and tougher.
The door of the gym slammed open, and Lazarus stepped through,
carrying three swords in his hand.
“Good morning, Dad,” Milo and I said together as we got up from the
floor.
“Today’s final training session will determine your future. You will fight
against me, using all your strength and the techniques you have learned and
giving your all. Milo, you are first.” Lazarus drew his sword, placing the
other on the ground and pulling his own out of its sheath.
It didn’t make me worry in the slightest. The last months, even years,
had been like this. Training, physical exercises, lifting weights, yoga, body
preparation, meditation, calming the mind. Everything seemed like another
training session, only this time it was against Lazarus.
Milo drew his sword, and he and Lazarus bowed to each other in respect.
The distance between them was exactly four meters, allowing them to read
each other’s next moves. Milo attacked first—one blow, a clash of swords
—then retreated. The blows followed one after the other until my father’s
blade caught Milo’s leg and caused him to stumble. It wasn’t over. My
brother stood up to fight on, but his body was quickly weakening, his
evasive maneuvers slower, his sword strikes weaker. Then Lazarus stopped
Milo’s sword and struck him squarely in the abdomen with one thrust,
sending him backward several meters and to the ground. He struggled to
rise, breathing heavily.
“Is that all you can do?” Father’s menacing voice echoed in the hall.
“Stand up, Milo.”
Milo staggered to his feet, clutching the sword tightly in his hands. With
one sudden move by Lazarus, his sword crashed right into Milo’s shoulder,
and he fell to the ground, screaming for him to stop.
“Pathetic. Get out of the training room and go to the hospital wing.”
Lazarus stalked away.
Milo got up from the ground, limping toward the door. Our gazes met,
and I felt horrible knowing that my father might do the same to me. So far,
the training had been hard—his yelling, the disappointment on his face—
but now there was something else shining in his eyes. Something I hadn’t
seen before.
“Desmond.” My father urged me to come forward.
I picked up my sword from the ground, gripping it tightly in my hands.
Father bowed in respect, and then the fight began. It was difficult to stand
against an opponent with more experience, but I was younger, more agile,
and more flexible. The clash of our blades echoed in the room. I slashed
toward my father’s leg, but he blocked by slamming his sword into the
ground. I took the opportunity to kick him in the legs, knocking him off
balance and bringing the sword down. Even while on the ground, Lazarus
blocked the strike, increased his distance, and returned to a standing
position.
I charged toward him with my sword. Our blades met with a shower of
sparks.
Lazarus pushed me back. “You have to know when to retreat.”
 “I’ll retreat when I can’t hold the sword.”
I aimed for his ribs, but Lazarus blocked me again. I took a few steps
back to assess the situation. Lazarus took the opportunity, not allowing me
to retreat, and swung at my head. I instinctively leaned in, though fighting
at that distance could be fatal. An open field; that was what they called the
millisecond it took to open the way for an attack. Time slowed for a
heartbeat, then moved at hyper-speed as I slammed my fist into Lazarus’s
stomach, forcing him to bend over, and swung my sword at his neck. I
stopped a few millimeters short, the blade shaking.
“Come on, do it.” Lazarus straightened, looking into my eyes and not on
my blade so close to his neck. “Finish the fight!”
Before I could lower my sword, Lazarus slammed his palms into my
chest, and I lost my balance and fell to the floor. I pushed myself to my feet,
but my father’s kick went straight for my neck. Pain lanced through me.
“Do you think you’re being sensible? Respectful?” Lazarus stared down
at me, his sword held high. “Pity, respect, hesitation, feelings—they only
prove your weakness.” Lazarus drew the sword away, one arm bent at the
elbow above his head, the other extended toward me, holding it close to the
blade.
Yellowish threads tangled around the sword, and I blinked in shock. The
threads formed into a ball, and a flash of light nearly blinded me. When my
vision cleared, that yellowish ball was flying toward my face.
Everything around me became so bright and then suddenly dark. I felt
nothing—no pain, no anxiety, no fear.
That was the day I learned that magic existed.
When I was sent to the Ascension Games, Roger taught me to control my
own magic, to become strong. Unbreakable. Dark.
I came back from the memories that had carved my childhood. A sigh
left my lips as I closed my eyes. That day, I had been stronger than Milo. I
had proved that I could defeat my father. Nevertheless, I had been punished,
injured, hated, rejected, and shackled.
A knock on the door of the small cell woke me sometime later. I opened
my eyes wide and looked at the person standing in the doorway—Milo.
Another visitor? Or…
“It’s time for you to return to your office,” Milo said calmly.
“So easy?” I raised an eyebrow at my brother. “What’s the catch?”
 “Move.” Milo’s face remained serious, though I could see the softness in
his eyes.
I got up from the single bed, left my room, and walked along the bright
corridors. I reached my office door without encountering anyone else, then
passed through it into my bedroom and the bathroom beyond. I hadn’t
bathed all week, and a hot shower brightened my mood and sharpened my
mind.
Once I was dressed in my black uniform, settled in my office chair, and
had lit a cigar, Chad walked through the door, smiling broadly. “Welcome
back, criminal.”
“I didn’t do it.” I shook my head. “Milo was being extremely reckless,
and I was accused.”
“Milo? What plans are you making?” Chad made himself comfortable on
the black leather sofa.
“We’re looking for answers about the scars on my shoulder. Turns out
I’m not the only one who has them.” I blew out a thick puff of smoke.
Xaran’s voice rang in my head. “Shut up, now.”
Chad knows the whole truth, so you can shut your menacing mouth and
be more polite. He’s my best friend and the only one who knows about the
scar on my shoulder, my past, and my present.
“Does that mean you’ll disappear just like them?” Chad frowned.
“Disappear? Do you know something I don’t?”
“It’s an easy guess. If any of these people were alive, you wouldn’t need
to break into Lazarus’s office. You could find them on this floor or the
next.” The corner of Chad’s lips turned up.
I puffed another cloud of smoke. “No matter what the future holds for
me, you know I won’t go down without a fight.”
“Yes. Now onto a slightly more pleasant subject. Have you heard the
news about Clara?”
I sat up straighter. “Has she reached the finish line? What time is it?”
“The Ascension Games participants should reach the city of Callistar
today. The end is just around the corner. I heard her through Roger’s
headset during one of the meetings. I can assure you she is holding up
well.”
“It’s strange. I haven’t been able to hear her conversations since she went
into the mountains.”
 Chad smiled. “That makes it less likely to be spied on and more likely to
be trusted.”
“I’m not spying. It’s just a feature that hasn’t been told to any of the
participants in the Games.” I sighed. “Besides, just because words leave
Clara’s lips doesn’t mean she’s holding up well. The inside of that woman is
much more complex.”
“You care about her,” Chad said slowly. Cautiously. “It’s more obvious
than you think.”
“Clara, despite the unjust past and the cruel present, has managed to
remain pure. It’s amazing.”
“Everyone’s demons are different,” Chad mused. “You’ve got it the
darkest, Desmond.”
I snorted. I sat with my demons, drank my morning coffee with them,
spent every day with their voices in my head. My actions had become as
dark as my soul, and I had lost myself more and more with each day that
had passed.
A knock sounded on my door. Then Roger’s voice said, “Desmond, we
need to talk.” He poked his head inside and frowned when he saw Chad.
“Excuse me. Am I interrupting?”
“We’ll talk later, Chad.” I nodded in a polite invitation to leave.
Of course, Chad was a special part of my life. I had met him during my
first Games, and from that day on we had bonded like two pieces of a
puzzle that fit together, but Roger… That was another story.
Roger approached, waiting patiently for Chad to leave the office and for
the door to close. Then he demanded, “What’s going on in your mind,
Desmond? Breaking into your father’s office? Getting locked up like some
prisoner? Is that the life you want?”
That was the Coach Roger who had been the first to introduce me to
magic. The man who had been there for me when things had gotten tough,
who had taken care of my private training lessons after normal hours, who
had visited me in the hospital after the incident with my father, the person
who had answered my every question. From the day I had become a
prisoner of this office, I had thought I didn’t deserve the title of coach. I
was just a son trampled on by his father. But Roger saw something else in
me: a potential, a strength, an opportunity, a determination, and a desire.
Despite my dark façade, he had always seen the real me.
“Roger, don’t start.” I threw my head back, staring at the ceiling.
 “Desmond.” Roger sounded disappointed.
“I don’t need you to say the same thing every time. Every time I make a
mistake that spreads like locusts across this city, you show up in my office.”
“You know exactly why I’m here, yet you keep making your name
known with black deeds. It’s one thing to do your job; it’s another thing to
do it outside working hours.”
“It wasn’t my fault, I snapped. “You know Lazarus’s first target when
there are problems in his life is me, even when I have nothing to do with it.”
Roger frowned. “Check your tone. I don’t deserve the contempt and
anger in your voice. I’m not the enemy.”
“You’re right.” I shook my head, commanding myself to calm down.
“It’s all too much these days.”
“The situation you are in is cruel. In every hurtful action—”
“—there is a black lesson that will show the stars,” I finished for him.
He had been repeating those words to me since the first days of our
acquaintance. They had become my motto when I was hurt, broken,
surrendered, crushed, and drowning in pain. Every one of life’s prostrating
moments had to be seen as a black blank page. I had to turn off the pain, the
tears, the despair, the anger, all the emotions I felt after a crushing event.
Only then, looking blankly at the black sheet, could I see the emotions from
a distance, like stars. Only then could I choose what to keep and what to
throw away from the bowl of life. This approach allowed me to retain the
best lessons and not be dragged down by a train of emotions filled with
pain, contempt, and anger. It had helped me so many times to look at
everything with empty eyes, with quiet thoughts, with a calm heart.
But now is certainly not the time to preach. Didn’t he have better things
to do than lurk in my head?
I sighed as I looked at Roger’s disappointed expression. He was the
closest thing I had to a father figure. Despite the gratitude I felt toward him,
I couldn’t seem to choose the right path. I had made too many mistakes, too
many dark decisions. Feelings were just a sign of weakness. Even though
Roger had been by my side all these years, trying to get me back on the
straight and narrow, my father’s words always echoed in my head. That was
why I hadn’t allowed myself to feel for so many years. I had tried, but I
made the wrong choices again and again. Pity, love, compassion—it was for
the weak. Maybe, after all these years, the little boy inside me still believed.
Maybe if I was different, if I was what my father wanted me to be, I would
be able to regain my place, my name, and my respect.
I could become a monster like him, feeling no remorse for killing, no
guilt for stealing and hurting. Feeling nothing.
“I hope you still have the slightest bit of humanity left in you,
Desmond.” Roger turned on his heel and headed for the office exit.
Finally alone, I lit another cigar, feeling my body and my thoughts
relaxing little by little. What had happened to everyone? I had only been
gone a week, maybe two, and they all seemed to need something.
Chad soon stopped at the door, leaning against the frame but not moving
forward. I could feel his lurking shadow, but I remained silent as I waited
for him to tell me why he had reappeared.
“You won’t like it, but your father wants to see you.”
I got up from my chair, stubbed out my cigar, and walked down the
corridor and toward the elevator. Chad followed without saying a word, his
usual playfulness seemingly locked deep inside. Yes, he could read me like
a book, and he knew full well that my mood was not bright at the moment.
We reached the long corridor that led to my father’s office.
Xaran’s voice sounded in my head, rage clear in every word. “It’s that
pendant. That symbol. The person behind it caused the war.”
A finger on the sensor next to the door. It slid open. Two people were
standing inside, plus two guards. All the other personnel responsible for the
system’s computers had gone.
“Did you call for me, Lazarus?”
Behind me stood Milo and the other guard. My father was in his chair,
and to his left stood Augustin, a man whose past was darker than a black
hole.
“Yes, Desmond. I have a special assignment for you. A chance to make
amends for your break-in at my office and a chance to start over.” Lazarus’s
calm gaze watched me.
The pendant. The symbol. The symbol of Eldmoor’s founder. The words
swirled around in my mind as I tried to connect the dots. Did this mean my
father was responsible for the war between dragons and humans? There was
also a pendant around Clara’s neck.
“You have your messenger—Augustin. I don’t want to interfere in your
dirty business,” I said coldly.
 “You have no choice. Refusal will lead to only one thing: the death of
someone you care about. Who could that be? Chad? Clara? Harper?”
Lazarus rose from his chair, shortening the distance to me.
My face remained the same stony, calm expression, despite Lazarus
listing the people who knew me best. My father’s threats wouldn’t break
me. They were just empty words he spat out when he lost control over me.
“Not interested.”
“I suppose we’ll have to handle things another way.” Lazarus stepped
back. “Augustin. Take care of it.”
Augustin walked toward me, aiming a punch straight at my face. I
blocked it, pinning his arm behind his back, and with my other hand I
gripped his neck and made him kneel.
“Lazarus,” Augustin squeaked, his voice barely audible.
Lazarus said nothing, just stared at us with a cold face. He didn’t try to
stop me, didn’t try to save his faithful servant. He didn’t say a word.
I pulled the dagger from my belt and cut Augustin’s neck. His body fell
to the floor, a pool of red blood rapidly growing on the white carpet.
A smile that looked more like a grimace appeared on Lazarus’s face.
“It’s just one meaningless death. You’ll have to try much harder than that.”

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CLARA
“I’ll get you back very soon.”

My hand slipped off the edge. Cold fingers wrapped around my wrist,
pulling upward. With the last of my strength, I scrambled onto the edge,
looking gratefully into Morgana’s face.
“Hurry up.” Morgana turned to walk down the narrow path ahead.
I rushed over to the flag and added my bracelet, which glowed green,
and then did the same with Bianor’s. Then I quickly retreated until I
reached a firm, wide surface.
A roar came from behind me.
I turned toward the dragon and released a ball of flame, hitting the
dragon’s wing. This seemed to enrage the beast, who dove toward us.
“Fuck. What now?” My gaze shifted to Morgana.
“Hide.” Her hand grabbed mine, pulling me into a small shelter next to
the hands of the clock.
The dragon flew by, destroying part of the wall. Scraps of wood
scattered around. The flapping of wings grew distant, but I knew another
attack was imminent.
“How do we get down?” Morgana used a light movement of her sword
to secure our shield against the next strike.
My brain refused to function; I was much more worried about not being
eaten by dragons than about how to get down from this tower. It would not
be easy to get down; the stairs Morgana had used to climb up were now a
pile of rubble. We would be dragon food if we tried to scale down the outer
wall.
“We’ll jump,” I said.
A dragon slammed straight into Morgana’s shield. The shockwave
knocked us back a few meters. With our shelter gone, we became easy
targets for two dragons—the one I had angered and another that had spotted
us from the sky.
 “Do you want to die?” Morgana shouted, summoning another yellow orb
and launching it toward the oncoming dragon. “Jump off the building?”
“Got a better idea? We don’t have time for long, clever plans.” I
slammed my sword into the ground, sending flames toward the dragon that
was crawling toward me.
The creature flapped its wings and retreated to the air, hovering in place
and watching us with angry eyes. Did it understand our plan? Why was it
waiting?
“You proposed it.” Morgana nodded to the edge. “You first.”
I launched a flying fireball toward the dragon Morgana was fighting. It
dodged it by turning sideways. The second dragon flew at high speed
toward Morgana, but she jumped to the side.
I dropped to my belly and lowered my legs over the edge, holding on
with only my arms. My heart was pounding like crazy in my chest, but I
had no other option. It was the only way to get down.
“Distract them,” I said to Morgana.
Then I let go.
I let my body free fall for a moment, then slammed my sword into the
stones, stopping my fall. Three more and I would feel solid ground beneath
my feet.
A roar came from high above, forcing me to look up from the task at
hand. The dragon that had been hovering in the air was now flying at high
speed along the wall of the tower, aiming straight for me.
To descend would mean dying, falling from such a height; to stay put
would mean becoming dragon food.
A yellowish ball hit the dragon squarely in the stomach, knocking it
away. A large bang shook the tower as its body collided with the buildings
below.
Morgana hadn’t fired that ball. It had likely been an accident, maybe
from Cecily and Mervin still fighting inside the tower.
I let go once more, stopping my fall and bracing my feet against the wall.
I was just a few meters away from the hole in the wall, and I looked inside
the tower. Neither Mervin nor Cecily were in sight. I ducked one last time,
preparing to thrust my sword in to soften the blow. I missed, or rather there
was no wall, just a hole, and I hit the ground at full fall speed.
I staggered to my feet, every bone in my body screaming in pain.
“Morgana!”
 “Coming!”
Morgana stuck her head out from the top of the tower, checking that I
was clear, then let her body hang over the edge.
Three dragons flew around the top, yellowish balls flying after them.
Their roars were deafening, and I watched them intently as Morgana made
her descent, ready to intervene if necessary. One dragon retreated and
caught sight of Morgana. With a mighty flap of its wings, it created a giant
downdraft, causing Morgana to fall faster than she should.
I launched a fireball toward the dragon. Getting his attention was my
only goal, but it backfired as he started flying straight toward me. I took off
running, leaving Morgana behind and rushing toward the nearest building. I
stopped in front of the door, launching another ball with a swift movement.
This one hit the dragon, and it fell to the ground with a loud thud. That
didn’t stop it, though; it continued to crawl toward me.
I slammed my sword into the ground. Flames shot toward the dragon,
and its mournful roar echoed in the darkness. The dragon didn’t resist, just
lay on the ground exhausted, staring at me.
My attention turned to Morgana, who had reached the bottom and was
smiling triumphantly. “Great teamwork,” she called, but her smile soon
disappeared.
My gaze shifted in the direction she was looking. Hot, sweltering air hit
my face. The dragon that had crashed into the buildings was standing right
next to me, not even a few meters separating us. I froze, unable to think of
the right combination. One wrong move and I would die.
“Morgana,” I called without looking at her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her move agonizingly slow,
summoning a shield to protect me from the dragon.
It wouldn’t be enough.
The dragon stepped forward, turning around, and slammed its tail against
the shield. The impact knocked me to the side, and Morgana a few feet
back. I hit my head on the wall, and the world went dark for a moment.
No. This couldn’t happen. Not now.
I tried to push myself off the ground, but the dragon just looked at me
from a distance. Morgana launched a yellowish ball to push it away. The
dragon dodged the blow, and then a roar came from its jaws. A loud, low,
strange roar, the likes of which I had never heard before.
“Clara, run. Now!” Morgana’s panicked voice urged me to move.
 Leaning against the wall, my head throbbed with pain, vision blurring,
and I couldn’t put my feet in a straight line.
Morgana caught up with me, slinging my arm over her shoulder and
taking my weight.
“What was that?” I demanded, trying to rush forward.
“The dragons are calling to their master, Teirac. We have to hide before
it is too late.” Morgana scanned our surroundings.
The ground beneath my feet grew hotter with every step, and my gut
knew something was wrong. I wanted to say something, to tell Morgana,
but I didn’t have time. She pushed me sideways with all her strength,
forcing me into a nearby building. I fell, and through the broken door, I
could only see part of the view, Morgana standing there, holding her sword
firmly in shield position. The ground began to shake, and I rose, staggering
forward.
“Stay where you are,” Morgana screamed. “Don’t you dare come out!”
A huge burst of fire lit up the night. A tremendous force knocked me
backward, and I fell to the ground. All I could see were white flames where
Morgana should be, where the road should be.
“Morgana!” I screamed.
The fire had stopped, but the shaking was getting closer. The ground
around me turned black, the buildings turned to ash, and I continued
looking for Morgana. I had to retreat, but I had to know if Morgana was
alive.
I wouldn’t be able to help her if Teirac found me. As much as I wanted to
fight him, to take revenge, I couldn’t do it like this.
So I dove under a fallen wall and covered my head with my arms.
The shaking grew closer. With every step Teirac took, bricks fell and
dust plumed into the air. A white claw appeared in the doorway nearby, and
I held my breath.
Teirac stopped. I could hear his low, uneven breathing and smell
something burning. He stomped his foot on the ground once, as if he sensed
there was still a threat nearby.
The building above my head began to crumble. I didn’t have time to call
for a shield before a huge chunk of the wall came crashing down on me.
Everything went dark, though I could still feel the tremors of Teirac’s
retreating footsteps.
“Come on,” Morgana’s voice said from nearby. “Get up, Clara.”
 I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar room. My body immediately tensed as
I searched for danger.
Morgana’s hand landed on my shoulder. “It’s over. We’re safe. All that’s
left now is to return to Eldmoor.”
“Why am I alive?” I rasped.
“I wish I knew the answer. That blow was so hard that it should have
killed you, or at the very least, you should have received a concussion.”
“Cecily. Mervin.” My gaze wandered along the abandoned walls. “Are
they alive?”
“Yes. Cecily’s in the prize-winning position. Mervin is letting her have it
instead of taking the prize for himself.”
Mervin had done what an honorable guy would do. Cecily was
competing for the first time, which means she had to win the Games to
move up. Only those on the higher floors of Eldmoor were not forced to
participate. Only then could they be together, once separated by fate.
My body felt heavy, and my head swam. All I wanted was sleep.
“How did you survive?” I asked Morgana.
“It was a matter of luck. I think you also felt Teirac strike the earth with
fire, something like the fire of our sword, but much more powerful and
cruel. You couldn’t have fought back, so I had to get you out of Teirac’s
range. The lead dragons are much smarter, more agile, and more cunning. I
provoked him with a white flame slash, the only attack in which he couldn’t
see his attack zone. I used my superior knowledge of this city to my
advantage. Running away would have been foolish, so I had to run to the
side, hoping his flames would not reach me. I should have fought, but I
chose to run.” A sigh left Morgana’s lips. “Do you feel up to moving?”
“Yes.” I tried to push myself off the ground, but my body wouldn’t
listen. My arms felt as if they were numb, the pain in my legs was
suffocating, my head was spinning, and I was nauseous. I felt as if I were in
hell. I staggered back to a sitting position, realizing that it was not yet time
to move on.
“Take your time, hero. You need rest. Eldmoor will not disappear. We
still have a long way to go. Besides, it’s getting dark, so it’s best if we spend
the night here.” Morgana rose from the ground, picking up the wreckage
and placing it in a pile.
“How long have I been unconscious?”
 “Almost a whole day. I thought you were in a coma.” Morgana pulled
water out of her backpack and reached toward me.
“How can it be that you don’t have a scratch on you?” I frowned.
Morgana turned to the side and lifted her hand, revealing a deep wound
on her ribs. The dragon’s attack had wounded her so badly that even the
armor hadn’t helped. She turned to her other side and stretched her leg
toward me. Where the thinnest part of the armor was, her shin was
scratched, her uniform torn. The armor on her left arm was melted,
probably from Teirac’s fire. I didn’t even want to think about what was
happening to her skin in that area.
“I’m not uninjured, but at least my head wasn’t hit.” Morgana smiled as
she pulled a few rations out of her satchel.
I summoned my sword blade, igniting the pile of planks Morgana had
collected. The heat spread around, making my eyelids feel even heavier. I
leaned against the wall, listening to the surrounding sounds. Rain was
pounding on the roof somewhere, and the strong wind made the broken and
tired houses rattle and creak.
“Shouldn’t we put out the fire?” My gaze drifted toward the darkness
beyond the broken window.
“The walls don’t allow the light to be so visible. The dragons have been
retreating for some time now.”
A few minutes passed. My eyes closed and then opened again, and I felt
light-headed from the sleep that wanted to occupy my body. I closed my
eyes, trying not to fall asleep, and my tired thoughts turned to Desmond. It
had been a long time. Was he still in prison?
Morgana’s hand landed on my shoulder with a gentle shake. When I
opened my eyes, she handed me a bowl of meatball stew with a few
vegetables. I ate quickly, sighing as the warm food settled in my stomach.
Then I allowed my eyes to fall closed again.
I woke to find Morgana curled up in a ball beside the dead fire, sun
shining through the cracks of the house. I made breakfast, woke Morgana
up, and soon we were on our way to Flame Mountain, hoping to find Bianor
still alive. My body was exhausted, wounded, and covered with bruises,
scratches, and bumps. Half a day’s journey seemed like an eternity. I
pressed the button to contact Desmond, but I could not hear his voice on the
other side. Had something happened to him?
 “Have you managed to contact Roger?” I asked as we walked across the
meadow.
“No. My earpiece fell out somewhere on the run from Teirac.”
“No answer from Desmond,” I muttered.
“Probably busy torturing people.”
I frowned. “I don’t know what happened between you, but Desmond is
not what you think he is.”
“Clara, you hit your head hard.” She shook her head. “You’ve only
known Desmond for a few weeks of training and you think you know his
personality?”
“I don’t like hearing other people’s opinions about people I know.”
“You should listen to those around you. Sometimes people wear masks,
you know?”
“Don’t you think Desmond wore a mask around you?”
Morgana broke into a broad smile. “Look at us. We were just fighting for
each other’s lives, and now we’re at each other’s throats over a man.”
I didn’t respond, not wanting to pursue this topic of conversation. The
mountains were already visible. We would reach them soon.
It took us an hour to find the right cave entrance. I never thought these
mountains could have so many holes and mazes.
As I entered the cave, I froze at the sight that greeted me.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DESMOND
“It’s about time you forgot I exist.” I turned on my heel to leave
Lazarus’s office.
Chad was waiting for me outside the door, scanning me with a
penetrating gaze. These actions by Lazarus could only mean one thing: war.
He had never gone this far—to try to imprison me through violence, to try
to get me on his side with vile words and threats. It was beyond the pale.
I returned my knife to its holster, and Chad pressed the elevator button
without saying a word.
“I would advise you not to walk the corridors late, to lock your bedroom
door, and to be more alert than usual. My father seems to have completely
lost his mind.”
“Shouldn’t you warn the others? It seems to be getting cramped within
the walls of Eldmoor,” Chad said.
“I’ll talk to Harper and Roger. They’re the only people Lazarus can
target to break me and force me to take on his evil tasks.” I leaned my head
against the wall of the elevator, looking at the lights overhead.
“What about Clara?”
“Clara is unavailable right now. I’ll worry about that when she gets back
from the Ascension Games.”
“Don’t do anything,” Xaran said in my head. “It’s just a bluff.”
You don’t know that. Better to be cautious than disappointed. The line
has been crossed, which means the next action is not predictable. Lazarus
has always been cruel, but I have never been his target. I have always been
just an extra hand to regulate, to intimidate, but it is different now.
“Bring him to the surface for me. I will take care of his pain.”
Tempting, but we had more important things to do. Even if it was true
that my father was one of the people who had caused the war between
dragons and humans, we had to first find out where the hidden relic had
been placed. It would be foolish to kill him before the truth left his lips.
The elevator dinged, and I walked toward the alley of shops while Chad
turned toward the training wing of the Ascension Games.
 Harper had a cup in her hand, making herself comfortable in her chair.
“Ah, you finally decided to pay a visit. What winds blew you here,
Desmond?” Harper’s face broke into a broad smile as she saw me walk
through the door.
“I want to warn you that things are about to get violent. Lazarus has
become an unpredictable beast, threatening everyone close to me. It is only
a matter of time before he does something about it.” I leaned against the
counter and picked up a bottle of wine.
“How did you anger your father this time, Desmond?”
“I killed Augustin.” I took a long drink of the wine.
“Ooh, that was an unwise act. Augustin has been Lazarus’s best friend
since his early days in Eldmoor. You hit him right in the heart.”
“He deserved it. Augustin has destroyed this city from the inside for
years, killing innocent people, removing those my father deemed unfit to
live in this city, and doing so many heinous deeds that his death seems like
a reward to this city.”
“Yes, you are right, but perhaps it should not have been so obvious?”
The corner of Harper’s lips turned up.
Harper didn’t seem scared, horrified, or judgmental. She knew I was not
a good person, a beloved son, or a role model. This was not the first time
my hands had been stained with blood. It didn’t frighten me, and it certainly
didn’t surprise me. I felt nothing but emptiness. My father would likely be
proud of me for that. I had become unfeeling son he always wanted. I had
become so empty and dark that there was no love left, not even for my
father, and that infuriated him.
“I am no longer his push-piece. Him telling me how to exist and live is
over. All the threats, the empty words… I’m done. I never want to see that
man again.”
“Be careful, Desmond. You know that people can disappear with the
snap of his fingers, and that’s true for you too.” Harper’s voice was full of
concern.
“I can take care of myself. We’ll meet again. Be careful, Harper.” I put
the bottle back on the table and walked through the exit of the shop.
I headed back toward my office. A hand landed on my shoulder, and I
reacted on instinct, pinning the person against the wall and putting a knife
to his throat.
 Two brown eyes looked at me with concern, and Milo raised his hands.
“Calm down. It’s just me.”
“You took long enough.” I let go of my brother, returning my knife to its
sheath.
We entered my office, and I closed the door behind me, heading straight
for my chair. Surely it must have been Milo who had broken into our
father’s office. Though he worked there every day and it should have been
easy for him to break in, he had caused a huge problem.
“Have you forgotten the door code?” I asked sarcastically.
“It wasn’t as simple as you think.”
“So was my stint in jail a worthy act? Did you manage to find out
anything about Eoghan?” I asked.
Milo pulled a large stack of folded papers from his jacket pocket, sliding
them onto the table and looking at me in despair. I hesitated for a moment,
picking them up and looking at the names and dates that reached back in
time, even before Eldmoor’s existence. What did it all mean?
“Is this what I asked for? Is Eoghan on this list?” My brows furrowed as
I looked at my brother.
“It’s a list of people who had a mark like you, Desmond. The dates they
died go back even to the time when dragons and humans were at peace. I
have no idea what that means. It was one of the classified documents on
Lazarus’s hard drive.”
“I’ll figure it out somehow. Thanks for your help, brother.” I put the
papers back on the table.
“Of course. Don’t forget to share the information if you find anything
else or need help.” Milo got up from the couch and walked toward the
office door, but stopped suddenly. “I’ll also let you know if our father
comes up with a plan to assassinate you or your acquaintances. You did the
right thing today, though it was cruel.” Milo left the office.
I was left alone, staring blankly at the pile of pages with lists of names.
So many people. Had they all been marked? Why did Lazarus keep this
information on his computer? Why had dragons been marking people even
when there was no war between them?
I quelled my questions with a glass of alcohol. I needed an explanation
now, before I went crazy.
Xaran, now would be a good time to show up.
 I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate but failing. Was the connection
only possible when he needed me and not the other way around?
“No, a piece of me is always hiding in your head,” Xaran answered.
“That’s how I keep you safe if your life is in danger.”
What does all this mean? These people? These deaths? I understand you
need my help with the dragon relic now, but some of these deaths go back to
a time when there was peace between us. Are you going to explain that?
“Not all these people are dead. They are just different now. Some chose
this path, and others had no choice. It all started much earlier than these
dates, so not even all the people marked are on this list.”
Are there more victims? This is absurd and cruel; how could people
choose death? That sounds false, Xaran. Are you sure I can trust you? Will
my name be just one line added to this list when you’re done with me?
Everything inside me was questioning. Even the alcohol slipping down my
throat didn’t help me relax. Why does my father have this information?
Does he know about the marks and what they mean?
“Yes, of course your father knows more than he’s letting on, Desmond.
Don’t be so blinded by revenge, anger, and resentment. Even I can see that.
Lazarus is clever, controlling everything in the form of slavery, dividing the
city into floors so he can see and control everything.” Xaran’s voice was
filled with indignation.
He planned it before it happened. The city wasn’t built in a few days, or
even a few years. He couldn’t have done it alone. There has to be another
person in this city, another man who would blindly help him, who would
support his every cruel act and plan. Augustin was one of those people, but
he was much younger than Lazarus. The guards are just henchmen who are
afraid to die. None of them correspond to the second person we are looking
for. The symbol you mentioned is that of the founder of Eldmoor. The other
person is supposed to be a book lover. You mentioned a book, a notebook,
whatever. The second person must be somewhere in this city. Clara’s father
is out. He gave Clara the Eldmoor founder’s symbol, which belongs to my
father, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility that he may have been a
contributor in some way. My father is extremely protective of this symbol.
Perhaps they were acquaintances? But he can’t be the person we’re looking
for. He’s dead.
I think I should talk to my brother; he spends most of his time in the
company of Lazarus. Maybe that will give us a small clue and help us find
another culprit. I am sure that person must be much more broken than
Lazarus, who I cannot even get within ten meters of now. I think a few
painful torture techniques, bringing him close to death, would open that
person’s tongue about what they stole from the dragons and where they are
keeping it.
You mentioned that all these people have chosen this path. What do you
mean by that? They aren’t dead? Do they live on the surface of the earth?
That’s impossible. Any light that comes out attracts dragons and guarantees
death.
“I will explain later. Until then, talk to your brother. Maybe we can find
the second person responsible for stealing the relic. You know this city like
the back of your hand. There must be a place you could never reach that has
been protected.”
I glanced through the list and found a name that only confirmed it was
true—Porter.
I pushed myself out of my chair and walked down the corridors toward
the stairs out of this cramped city. A warm wind blew in my face, and I
scrambled up the rock of the mountain, sitting on the edge and gazing at the
landscape ahead.
Winter had given way to spring, the air was warmer, the mountain
meadows green. I closed my eyes, trying to push unnecessary thoughts
aside.
Clara—would she come back? Had she succeeded in getting the flag?
Had she met Teirac and defeated him? Time was passing very quickly, but
the headset still couldn’t pick up a signal. Did that mean she was back in the
mountains? I hoped not. Last time it had made me nervous, that sickening
feeling of nausea, shivering, and uncertainty inside.
The other Ascension participants had also started the Games, but they
had been sent to different cities. This was how the selection of the
inhabitants of Eldmoor worked. The weak died and the strong survived.
Every day, this city was filled with more secrets, more lies, and one day it
would all come out into the light of day. Then the days of my father’s reign
would be over. People would know the truth, but not from me. It would be a
foolish act, unconvincing. One man could not represent the whole truth.
No, this society would collapse of its own accord when the death rate
became higher than the birth rate. When people became too curious and
more brutalized than they were now. All it would take was one push, one
compelling truth, and it would all be over.
A sigh left my lips. The sun went down a little at a time, and I decided to
go back to Eldmoor. Down the corridor, I turned toward the second meeting
room and Roger’s office. I knocked on the door, and a voice from the other
side invited me in.
“Desmond, it’s good to see you decided to visit.” Roger was lying on the
sofa, looking at a notebook in his hands.
“Yeah, not with good news.” I sat in the armchair near Roger.
Roger’s gaze shifted from the book to me. “What happened this time?”
“Lazarus wanted me to do some stupid assignment for him, but I refused.
That was the reason he started threatening those I care about. I just wanted
to tell you to be careful. You know bad things can happen in the dark
corridors of the city.”
“Thanks for the warning, Desmond. I don’t think Lazarus would risk
killing me. Then there would be a big hole in the game he’s created. The
Ascension Games would be a meeting with the guillotine for everyone
involved.”
“Don’t be so sure. Everyone in this city is replaceable.”
“That’s a fact. Even Lazarus himself will one day be replaced.” A smile
appeared on Roger’s face.
“Have you heard any news from Clara or the rest of her team? I can’t get
in touch with her.”
“Morgana’s connection is also down, but there is one piece of good
news. Bianor, Clara, and Morgana have reached the prize places. That
means they should be on their way home. Of course, that’s a lot of days
without news or contact, and anything can happen on the way back, but
we’ll know within a week.” Roger dropped the notebook onto the table and
made himself more comfortable on the sofa.
I sighed. “That’s a long time.”
I said goodbye to Roger and went back to my office. Night was growing
near. Down the corridor, through the main meeting room, a commotion
drew my attention. Doctors in white coats were wheeling a bed carrying an
unfamiliar woman lying unconscious.
“What happened here?” I caught up with one of the doctors.
“A woman has been attacked. We need to get her to the OR quickly. Two
gunshot wounds.” The doctor hurried forward.
 Part of me wanted to find out more, to find out what had happened, but I
already knew the answer. Lazarus.
Curiosity won out, and I rushed behind the rolling bed and into the white
rooms of the hospital. The doors of the operating room closed, and I
stepped into the next ward, watching as the woman’s clothes were removed
and a special blue surgical gown was put on. A mask was placed over her
face to deliver a sedative while the nurses prepared the necessary tools for
the operation. The shiny pendant around her neck caught my attention—the
symbol of the founder of Eldmoor.
My concentration was interrupted by a doctor coming through the door
and giving me a strange look.
I stopped him with an upraised hand. “What’s the patient’s name lying
on the table?”
“Larissa Merkins.”
Everything around me seemed to stand still.
Clara’s mother was fighting for her life on the operating table.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CLARA
“You are my flesh and blood.”

Bianor’s snoring echoed through the cave, making one think that some
beast or dragon was sleeping somewhere nearby.
“Someone has conveniently skipped the entire Ascension Games and
guaranteed himself victory,” Morgana muttered under her breath.
I smiled. “Bianor, time to get up.”
Bianor was happy to see us. We sat in a circle around the fire and made
lunch. I returned Bianor’s bracelet, thus keeping my promise.
“How did it go? Sounds like one of the tougher nights, mm?” Bianor’s
gaze lingered on me.
“Everything would have been fine if Teirac hadn’t shown up. That
damned dragon.” Morgana rolled her eyes.
“How many deaths?”
“Cole, but that’s not the final number,” I said. “We still have to reach
Eldmoor.”
“How is your leg?” Morgana’s gaze shifted to Bianor’s scarred leg.
“The painkillers are helping. Clara seems to have performed an excellent
operation. I’ll have to see a doctor when I get back to the city, but I’m
alive.” Bianor loaded the water bottles into his backpack.
“Where are you going?” Morgana frowned.
“We’ll make it to the first stop before dark.” Bianor gestured toward the
cave exit.
“Get up, Morgana. Bianor’s right. The Ascension Games are over. The
sooner we reach home, the safer we’ll be.” I followed Bianor’s lead.
The journey began, and as the sun slowly descended, my mind
wandered. So much time had passed, so much had happened. Death had
breathed down my back, a person I barely knew had died, and after all these
years, I had seen dragons up close. I hadn’t been able to avenge my father,
but maybe I’d get another chance.
 “The challenges seem to have brought you closer.” Bianor limped slowly
at the front, looking over his shoulder at me and Morgana.
“It’s temporary. It was necessary for survival,” I said.
“Yeah, I hope I never see that intrusive brown-haired girl again.”
Morgana laughed.
“Intrusive? I wonder which one of us here has the most irrepressible
character.” I rolled my eyes.
“Have you worked out your anger with Desmond?” Bianor asked her.
Morgana shot him a look. “There is nothing to talk about.”
“Morgana’s boyfriend was Desmond,” Bianor told me, “but it ended
very quickly. That’s the truth.”
A chill went through me. Morgana had been Desmond’s girlfriend? No,
that couldn’t be true. Was that why Morgana had looked at me like that
before going to the surface? Was that the reason she had tried to gossip
about him?
The conversation fell silent, neither Morgana nor I saying a word.
“Clara, I want to thank you,” Bianor said, changing the subject. “Rarely
would an Ascension Games participant have done what you did. The others
would have just taken the opportunity to leave me behind, ensuring
themselves a higher place.”
“You’re welcome, Bianor. There are few around who look at me and
manage not to see the gossip, the darkness, and the painful past. Thank you
for that. You made me feel normal for a moment.” The corner of my lips
turned up.
The road to the next stop flew fast. The sun was already rolling on the
horizon as we pitched our tents. I crept inside, leaving Bianor and Morgana
outside, not wanting to be in their company. After Bianor’s words about
Morgana and Desmond, I could feel an invisible wall building inside me.
Why did I care? Why should I react to Desmond’s past? It was his business.
I curled into a ball, trying to fall asleep, but my thoughts kept me awake.
Perhaps Morgana had been taken to Desmond’s special training? That
would explain how they had become close. All this made me feel as if I
were in the shadows, walking the same path as her. The unusual feelings—
the longing, the anxiety, the excitement—stretched toward Desmond. Even
though I hated him deep inside, there was something more. A part of me felt
something for him that I shouldn’t. Would I be just his plaything like
Morgana? Why had she and Desmond broken up?
 “Clara, can you hear me?” Desmond’s voice came from the headphones
lying on the ground near my head.
There was too much confusion inside for me to have a normal
conversation with him at the moment. That could wait for another day. I had
more important things to do than talk to him. I’d be in Eldmoor soon
enough. Then he would be able to look at me with his dark eyes, swear,
throw tantrums, and all the other emotions.
Little by little, my body succumbed to sleep, and my thoughts fell silent.
The next morning, we had breakfast under an overcast sky, then began
walking along the lakeshore. Morgana’s eyes were red, which gave away
that she had probably been crying all night. It was strange to see her like
this, but it had to be because of Cole. He had been her friend. These
Ascension Games could be heartbreaking, not only physically but
emotionally. I couldn’t imagine how I would feel if it had happened to Olin.
Raindrops soon began to fall from the sky, causing everything around us
to darken and cloud over.
“We should stop and wait for it to clear,” Morgana said finally.
“Don’t use magic and everything will be fine,” I replied. “That way, we
won’t attract attention in the dark.”
“I’m sorry,” Bianor said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have done that, prying
into private matters between Desmond and you, but I think Clara has a right
to know.”
There was an uncomfortable silence again. The muddy earth clung to my
boots, my legs grew heavier, and my thoughts clouded like the stormy sky.
It was only my first Ascension Games. I was physically exhausted. But that
wasn’t the biggest problem. It was like something had clicked and changed
inside me. Seeing how fragile human life was, that it only took one wrong
step to be killed by a dragon... That moment when the dragon had breathed
onto my back and I knew there was nothing I could do… It had changed
me. I felt darker, colder, and gloomier.
We moved on. The rain never let up and our conversation never
continued. Each of us had a hurricane in our minds that had to die down.
A howl sounded behind us.
Dragons.
We were in the middle of the meadow, and they flew over our heads. My
hand landed on the hilt of my sword in preparation for a fight. If even one
dragon spotted us, all hell would break loose.
 In the distance, at the end of the group, flew one exceptional dragon in
size, shape, and title—Teirac.
“That’s strange,” Bianor said quietly. “They never fly in a group with
their commander.”
“That bastard is probably still hunting me,” Morgana said with a bit of
humor in her voice.
“Hope not, or we won’t make it to Eldmoor,” I replied.
We finally reached the town of Lumera, settling in one of the abandoned
houses. We decided not to light a fire in an open place where we could be
swarmed by dragons.
I left Bianor and Morgana behind, promising to return soon, and my feet
led me forward, stopping at the spot where I had been forcibly separated
from my father twenty years ago. My knees reached the uneven asphalt, and
tears began to roll down my cheeks. So much time had passed and I still
couldn’t come to terms with what had happened. Why had the soldiers shot
at the dragon? They must have known that bullets wouldn’t help against
these deadly beasts. It had only enraged Teirac even more. Why hadn’t Dad
run away? Didn’t he want to be rescued? He had just stood there and
surrendered.
These thoughts would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Wiping away my tears, I returned to the temporary campsite. Morgana
was already asleep, while Bianor was staring into the distance, keeping
watch. I sat down beside him and grabbed some food, if only to get some
nutrients in me before I went to sleep.
“It’s never going to end, you know. The wheel will always turn. New
Ascension Games, new participants, training… it’s a never-ending cycle.”
Bianor’s rich, quiet voice echoed through the abandoned building.
“It will end. One day, this war will end. The population of society will
rise and overthrow Lazarus when the Ascension Games wipe out more than
half the population of Eldmoor. He will be killed, or he will die a natural
death, and then another person will take his place. Perhaps someone less
dark. Less cruel.”
“This could all be over sooner. Just the thought of having to fight for our
survival every step of the way, worrying about our lives, the tension all
around us, can be maddening.” Bianor sighed.
“Who will be next after Lazarus? Milo? Desmond? Another Lazarus
figurehead? I don’t see the problem if all the people lived on the same floor.
Then there would be no division, no gossip, no deaths, no grudges.”
“Sounds like living on the surface. But no, even if we were all on the
same floor, the pecking order, the strife, the killings, and the other sinful
things would continue. It is human nature to try to be better than others, to
show how cool, unique, strong, and different we are. The best way forward
would be for the dragons to retreat and for people to return to their normal
lives. Nevertheless, Lazarus should be followed by Milo. He is very close
and never leaves his father’s side.” Bianor put a hand to his chin.
“Society needs someone to take the higher ground, to be intelligent, fair,
strict, and just. Right now, everything is being driven forward by cruelty
and fear. Years from now, perhaps the day will come when dragons and
humans can live together again. But until then, we can only speculate as to
why the war broke out and what could have happened.”
“Lazarus could have started it all,” Bianor mused. “Otherwise, I can’t
understand why a person like him would sit at the very top of Eldmoor.”
“Well, it’s time to rest. Time will tell who is to blame. I guess we’ll find
out when we get home.” I pushed myself off the ground, pulling out my
sleeping bag.
Three days to go before we reached Eldmoor.
Later, I woke up in a cold sweat as if I could feel something watching
me in the dark. The last time I had that feeling was when Desmond had
been watching me with shadow magic. Now we were too far apart for that
to happen.
Neither of the participants had this magic, so Cecily and Mervin were
excluded from the list of suspects. I would blame my tired body and the
events of the last few days, but my insides were screaming.
I wriggled out of my sleeping bag and stepped into the dark, abandoned
building. I poked my head through the broken door, looking around the
street. It was empty, quiet. No dragons and no people, but that strange
feeling inside me wouldn’t stop, as if it wanted to warn me.
I moved on, ignoring the fact that I knew it was dangerous to wander
alone at night. With my hand on the hilt of my sword, I walked forward, not
knowing what I was looking for. When I reached the edge of the city, I
stopped and leaned against the wall. There—a shadow, an outline, uneven
and speckled with darkness. It was a silhouette, not of a man, but a dragon.
Its head loomed over the treetops, its gaze fixed directly on me.
 Slowly, I pulled myself around the corner, foolishly hoping he hadn’t
seen me. Who was this dragon? Could it be Xaran? Was he really that
invisible in the dark?
Curiosity won out, and I peered out of the corner of my eye at the trees.
But he was gone. Only the tops of the trees swayed in the slight breeze.
I hurried back to the campsite. Just a symptom of fatigue and stress,
surely. I repeated that to myself with each step.
Two eyes greeted me as I entered the house.
“Have you lost your mind?” Morgana hissed. “Wandering in the dark
alone?”
“I had a nightmare and decided to distract myself. But the bigger
question is, why aren’t you sleeping?” I unzipped my sleeping bag and
made myself comfortable.
“Cole.”
The word was enough. There was nothing I could do to ease her pain.
Time would heal the wound, and her soul would come to terms with it little
by little. Of course, it would never go away. Some days would be harder,
and it would seem that the wound in her chest had reopened. The pain
would be as unbearable as if she were going through it again and again. On
other days, it would be easier, as if she could breathe again. The days would
move on more easily, but it would never stop. That was grief.
“He’s in a better place now,” I said finally.
I closed my eyes to fall asleep, but I just lay there until it started to get
light. Morgana took care of breakfast, and soon we were all on our way to
the penultimate stop—the lakeside. This morning was much brighter. The
sun was not shy to pamper us with its warm rays, and the dragons did not
inconvenience us with their existence.
“It seems even the world is urging us to return home as soon as
possible,” Bianor said cheerfully.
“How do you think the other team is doing?” I asked Morgana. “Weren’t
we supposed to come back together as one big team?”
“No,” she said coldly. “We would have held them back. We shouldn’t
have picked up Bianor first. It makes the trip a day longer, as does the
chance of dying.”
“What bug bit you in the ass this morning?” Bianor’s unhappy gaze
rested on Morgana.
 She rolled her eyes without answering, making it clear that this
morning’s conversations were going nowhere.
That evening, we pitched our tents at the edge of the lake. Bianor
snuggled under a tree and Morgana sat on the edge of the lake, gazing into
the distance. I didn’t want to join either of them, so I chose the path of
solitude. I lay down in a nearby meadow, just ten meters away, gazing at the
white fluffy clouds. I closed my eyes and let myself rest. Soon, the night
and the shadows would overtake everything, and another day would be
over. Then we would embark on our last journey before Eldmoor opened its
doors.
The air here was completely different, fresh, with the sound of the forest
all around and the feeling of freedom within. I would miss that feeling of
freedom, even though danger and death surrounded us out here.
“Clara!” Bianor screamed.
I opened my eyes and rose from the meadow, my gaze instantly going to
the sky. It made no sense. The sun hadn’t set yet.
What was Teirac doing here?

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 CHAPTER THIRTY
CLARA
I took off running toward Morgana and Bianor, who rushed in my
direction. The red dragon circled in the sky, finally landing on the ground
with a thud, shaking the earth with the impact.
“What do we do?” Morgana demanded.
“We can’t fight. We have to hide or return to Eldmoor as soon as
possible,” Bianor panted.
The ground beneath our feet grew hot, which meant only one thing:
flames traveling underground. We had to spread out or we would be an easy
target.
“Time to move,” Morgana said. “Don’t fight; it will only make Teirac
angrier. We don’t need a hundred more dragons on our tail. Just use the
shield in case of emergency.” She ran to the left to get around Teirac, as he
was blocking the most direct path to Eldmoor.
Bianor, meanwhile, ran the other way before I could keep up with him.
He was much slower than he should be. The only person separating him
from death was me.
White flames began to pour out of the ground one by one. I summoned a
shield, and the collision of magic knocked me and Bianor aside. I rolled to
see where Bianor was, but he was unconscious. As Teirac approached
Bianor with powerful strides, I launched a ball of white fire directly into his
snout.
He released a mighty roar, distracted from his easy prey.
“You remember me, right? Come and get me.” I drew my sword,
stepping slowly to the side, luring Teirac away from Bianor.
Teirac’s scales glowed bright red, one after the other, from his chest to
his neck.
“Clara, run!” Morgana screamed.
I did, but there was no place to hide. A giant flame spread from Teirac’s
jaws, aimed straight at me. The flames suddenly dropped once, then a
second time, drawing my attention to Morgana and Bianor, who had
arranged shields to keep the flames from being so deadly.
 I fired a fireball at the burning flames to reduce the damage. As the
magic collided, I was knocked down, hitting my leg, head, and ribs. I tried
to get up, but there was nothing around me but a scorched landscape, grass
blackened and turning to ash. Morgana and Bianor were nowhere to be
seen. Had they left me?
I crawled backward as Teirac walked slowly toward me. “You think
you’re invincible because of your size?” I taunted him.
Teirac flapped his wings violently, creating a huge wind around him.
Dust got into my eyes, and the earth seemed to mix with the sky. I covered
my face with my hand but kept my eyes open, not wanting to lose sight of
my opponent. Teirac took to the sky, and I sprinted through the meadow as
fast as my legs and bruised body would allow.
I could feel Teirac’s shadow over my head. I couldn’t believe Morgana
and Bianor had left me.
My legs gave out, and I tripped over a stone, falling to the ground.
“What do you want?” I screamed at the giant dragon. “You’ve done enough
damage. Get out of here. Get off the ground, and let people live!”
Teirac dived toward me at tremendous speed. With a combination of my
hands, I launched two fireballs straight at him. Despite his size, he
gracefully avoided them, still aiming at me.
I summoned my shield and Teirac slammed into it, knocking me off my
feet. My head hit the ground hard. The world swirled around me, and I
stood, stabbing my sword into the ground, letting my flames travel straight
toward the nearby Teirac, who was staring at me with white eyes.
Teirac raised his head with pride and stepped forward to meet my
flames. One by one, they wrapped around his huge paws but did no harm,
as if they had merged with him and returned to their master.
Did Teirac not have a single weak spot?
I ran at him. The magic hadn’t done any damage to this giant dragon, but
my magic blade had a chance. I wouldn’t give up until my last breath. This
creature had ripped the most precious person from my life. Even if it meant
dying here, I would do it with a free heart.
Teirac lifted his foot to strike the ground, and the earth beneath my feet
began to melt. I dodged to the side and ran around to approach his back.
With a twist, his tail flew toward me, barbed and knobby. I dove forward,
reducing the distance between us. If I was close, he couldn’t attack me with
his tail.
 “Don’t like fighting this close?” I panted. “You’re too big for that.”
I darted away twice, avoiding Teirac’s paw as he tried to stomp on me. In
one swift move, I closed the distance, slamming the burning sword into
Teirac’s other claw. A roar erupted from his chest, hurting my ears. A
powerful blow slammed into me from his other paw. Sharp claws dug into
my shoulder as he flung me away from him.
I screamed as I hit the ground a good distance away.
My vision went black, then returned but blurred. It looked and felt as if
part of my arm had been torn off. My gaze focused on my shoulder, which
was bleeding, the armor torn off and ruined, the flesh of my shoulder
protruding. Gritting my teeth, I slammed the sword to the ground, managing
to lift my full body weight.
Teirac was coming toward me at high speed, his huge jaws gaping.
This was it. This was how I would die.
I drew my sword, refusing to give up, to retreat. There was nowhere to
go.
When Teirac’s jaws were right next to me, I drove my sword into his
throat as his razor-teeth sank into my arm. A shrill roar sounded, and I
withdrew my sword in one swift motion, then turned and limped toward
Eldmoor.
I had managed to wound him, but it made the situation even more
complicated.
A powerful wind swept behind me, momentarily knocking me forward.
My body was too tired to keep going. I sat down, holding my sword in my
hands. Teirac was closing in on me, but there was nothing I could do.
He stopped, his gaze sweeping past me into the distance. One by one,
yellowish balls of light hit his invisible shield.
Morgana and Bianor. They hadn’t left me.
“Clara, get out of there!” Morgana’s scream came from a distance.
I tried to scoot backward. Each impact shook the shield above me and
Teirac, but it remained in place. Teirac walked toward me, his jaws gaping,
his red scales glistening as crimson as the sunset.
“The shield won’t let me escape,” I screamed. “You must run, now!”
“We won’t leave you!” Bianor yelled back.
Teirac leaned his muzzle toward me. I drew my sword, intending to fight
to my last breath. Even if it seemed pointless, I wouldn’t die afraid,
regretful, or crying.
 Teirac grabbed my sword in his jaws, sending it flying. Then he opened
his jaws and let out a mighty roar.
I rolled sideways using the last of my strength, but Teirac’s sharp teeth
slammed into my thigh. A scream escaped my lips and searing pain made
my body convulse. My gaze slowly drifted to my thigh where the wound
from Teirac’s teeth should have been. All I could see were strange white
threads digging into my skin. I had seen it somewhere before.
Desmond?
I lay on the ground, my breathing becoming weaker and weaker. The
blood loss made me feel calm. The fear disappeared, and warmth spread
through my body. My eyes closed a little, and a small smile played on my
lips.
I’m sorry, Dad. I’ve let you down. I’ve given my best, and I hope you can
forgive me.
I ran forward, my small feet pounding on the wooden floor of the house.
I stopped at the corner of the lounge door, peering through the crack at my
dad, who was sitting with a pile of papers. A small table lamp lit the room,
and he looked at the papers on the table with an unreadable expression on
his face.
“Come here, sweetheart.” His gaze shifted toward me, toward the door I
was hiding behind.
“Why aren’t you sleeping, Daddy?” I ran to him, wrapping my arms
around his body.
He sat me on his lap. “I’m working. Why are you downstairs so late?”
“You didn’t tell me a bedtime story.”
“I’ll tell you a secret if you promise to go to bed.” Daddy smiled warmly
as he extended his little finger toward me. “Promise?”
“I promise.” I intertwined our little fingers, kicking my feet impatiently.
“I have been a scientist for many years. I study dragons from as close as
anyone would ever dare to get. It’s a secret no one can know about,” Daddy
whispered. “Maybe one day when you’re big enough, I’ll show them to
you.” He gently ran his fingers through my hair and then lifted me off his
lap.
“Dragons?” I squealed.
“Shh. Now it’s time for you to sleep, Clara. Good night.” Daddy kissed
my forehead.
 I hurried down the dark corridors and up the stairs. Climbing onto the
bed, I opened the curtains wide, looking up at the starry night sky and the
mountains looming in the distance.
Was it true that my dad was a friend of dragons?
I felt like I was in hell. Unrelenting heat covered my whole body. I
wanted to scream, but I was still drowning in darkness. My fingertips felt
warmer than they should, but my body shivered and light suddenly
enveloped me.
The sound of beeping machines fell silent in an instant. A white room
drowned in white flames, a fire that spread from me. I tried to move, but my
body wouldn’t listen. My heart was beating so fast it seemed like a heart
attack. I could feel the stares from somewhere far away fixed on me. My
body convulsed, and the inexorable heat grew.
What was happening to me? Why was I alive? Where was I?
Then an unexpected voice rang out inside me, inside my head. A voice I
knew from the bottom of my heart.
“Dear Clara, calm down. It’s over. It’s going to be all right.” Daddy’s
voice was soft and rich.
My voice, full of pain, rasped, “Dad?”

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 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
I want to thank the professionals who made my
journey much easier - Editor Ceara, cover designer
Chris and Angelique Bosman, without whom I would
not have reached the finish line.
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 BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR
Moon Academy Series
Crescent Phase : Moon Academy Series Book 1
Quarter Phase : Moon Academy Series Book 2
Gibbous Phase : Moon Academy Series Book 3

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J.P. Feather is a young author who has decided to
move towards self-publishing.
After spending her childhood days in the company of
her librarian mother, she eventually decided to start
creating fantasy worlds full of magic, love, and
adventure.
Born in Europe, she found happiness in another
country between the mountains and the rain clouds.
Always available in the Facebook Group –
J.P. Feather Squad.
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