Blazewrath Games

by Amparo Ortiz

  I returned to my room to talk to Samira. She told me about the Department of Magical Artifact Permits and Regulations as if she’d gone to Disney World. She has to stay in the bureau to start her tests, but they’ve given her clearance to attend Andrew’s memorial service.

  Joaquín and Manny are chatting to the left of the stage. Headmaster Sykes plants a delicate kiss on President Turner, then joins Joaquín and Manny in the crowd. Director Sandhar motions for my team to walk onstage. The seven of us are shining brightly in our uniforms.

  Director Sandhar goes straight for the podium. He recalls how he and dozens of other agents stormed off to São Paulo yesterday. Though he doesn’t reveal the Anchor Curse, he mentions President Turner had been a target, and so he was kept in a secret location created by the Sol de Noche dragons. I nod along as he confirms the Sire is trapped. It’s reassuring to hear him say it with such confidence.

  “We owe our lives to the seven young heroes on this stage,” he says. “We owe them to Samira Jones, the young witch who couldn’t be here with us. But there are two other names I must mention today. Two young boys who are crucial to understanding yesterday’s events—Takeshi Endo and Andrew Galloway.”

  Murmurs trickle over from the crowd.

  I block them out as Director Sandhar continues. “A year ago, Takeshi Endo asked to become an undercover agent assigned to infiltrate the Dragon Knights. His role was to serve as our informant, but he’d been secretly plotting to help the Sire become a mortal dragon again. For his counter curse, the Sire needed the living blood of Edward Barnes. Or, as it happened, the living blood of Barnes’s heir. Agent Endo failed to discover the identity of Barnes’s heir in time to prevent his death.”

  At first, I think something’s wrong with Director Sandhar’s microphone, but it’s just that he stopped talking. He lets a few camera flashes go off before speaking again. He mentions Andrew’s murder, his true identity.

  “Randall Wiggins has confessed to capturing Antonio Deluca in 2015 with the intention of framing him for Hikaru’s murder. The bureau will continue their search for Deluca with the information Wiggins provides after his interrogation.”

  “What about Takeshi?” a female reporter asks. “Is it true he’s also been arrested?”

  “Yes. Agent Endo broke the terms of his contract. He withheld information and stole from the bureau in order to commit murder. He kidnapped Agent Michael Robinson and has refused to disclose the whereabouts of the Fire Drake. He was also willing to let the heir of Edward Barnes die so he could enact his revenge.”

  But he chose to spare President Turner’s life instead.

  “Agent Endo will be tried for his crimes in the coming days.”

  Does that mean Takeshi will rot in a cell while the world celebrates Andrew one last time? Regardless of what Takeshi’s done, this is cruel. He won’t celebrate and say goodbye to his best friend. I won’t spend another day in the presence of the boy who was once my favorite.

  The boy who’s slowly becoming my favorite again.

  “That will be all from me this morning. Mister President, if you please.”

  President Turner wastes no time getting to the podium. He’s slumped over and yawning, but he has enough energy for whatever he’s about to do. “Good morning. I’d like to start with acknowledging the brave young people of Team Puerto Rico behind me. Without them, none of us would be here. It’s because of them that I come to you today with the truth.”

  Wait. What is he doing?

  “Many years ago, the Sire cast an irreversible spell on me. It bound my life to his. I’ve served as his Anchor to this world ever since. This means I obeyed his every command against my will.” He leans closer to the mic. “He’s owned the Blazewrath World Cup since 2013.”

  The crowd gasps as one. Some people exchange wide-eyed glances, but the majority can only look up at the man who’s confessed the devastating truth about the Cup.

  President Turner goes on to detail how the Sire orchestrated his ascent in the IBF ranks, how he demanded the Cup never get canceled despite the ongoing protests, and how the president couldn’t scheme behind his back without him retaliating.

  “I was unaware that Eddie Barnes had a son,” he says in a low voice. “Andrew Galloway lived and died a hero. He stood up to injustices and fought to end them. So have the other dragons competing in the Blazewrath World Cup. Their desire to fight the Sire overpowered their will to play, and there are still Dragon Knights roaming the world. Therefore, the International Blazewrath Federation has decided to cancel the Cup and announce our organization’s dissolution. This year marks the official end to the sport of Blazewrath.”

  So that’s it. No more Cups. No more Blazewrath.

  I wait for the heartbreak to swallow me whole, but the longer I think about it, the better I feel. I love Blazewrath. I always will. But this game stopped being what I imagined. Part of that is the Sire’s fault. The other part is what the Sol de Noche dragons have shown me since they started building the Dark Island. Dragons aren’t born to battle one another for a trophy. They’re here for their riders. For their countries. For themselves. President Turner has chosen to let them do what they were meant to.

  He continues, “To the aspiring Blazewrath players who hoped to qualify for future Cups, I apologize. To the teams participating in this year’s Cup, your achievements will be properly rewarded and remembered.

  “The Sire has been imprisoned. However, those who are loyal to him are still at large. I urge you to return to the people you love most. I urge you to live your lives. And when the time comes, I urge you to fight.”

  Smiles pop up on my teammates’ faces, except for Victoria, who’s tearing up next to me.

  I grab her hand. “There’s life beyond the gold, Victoria. Find it.” I bump my shoulder to hers. “You’re worth much more than a trophy.”

  Her hand grabs mine, too. She whispers, “So are you.”

  President Turner thanks us again and requests applause for our bravery. Manny claps the hardest out of everyone. He waves at us as we’re led offstage. We all wave back. Six guys and girls dressed in my same black uniform. All six making sure nobody trips while flashes go off all around us. Six people who chose to save my father over winning an international tournament.

  They’re not my teammates. I don’t have a team anymore.

  I have a family.

  The Weekly Scorcher: Lastly, how would you like to be remembered?

  Edward Barnes: The fact that I might be remembered is good enough, but I’d like to become a father someday and raise my children to defend the same things I do. I’d love to build a home that stands for justice, equality, and the belief that we all deserve to live alongside one another without hate. Most of all, I want to be a father who loves his children with all his might.

  —Excerpt from a 1988 interview with Edward Barnes, on his one-year bureau anniversary

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I’VE NEVER SEEN MORE SCOTTISH FLAGS IN MY LIFE.

  Fans from all around the globe have been filling the Blazewrath stadium since before the crack of dawn. Some have been camping out there since President Turner announced the memorial service. They carry small and large versions of Scotland’s flag. I’ve caught hundreds of T-shirts with Andrew’s face on them, too. Those who bought tickets for the finals are lucky enough to keep their seats. The rest are being treated to the service via a massive screen outside the stadium walls. Black banners and ribbons adorn them today. A giant billboard featuring Andrew’s solo portrait has been erected near the entrance, too.

  President Turner invited Mom, so now she’s in the box seats along with Samira and her family. I’m down in the field. The Runners’ mountains are gone. So are the Keepers’ rings. A black carpet covers the whole stadium floor, with matching folding chairs on either side of the runway, where all the Cup’s former players are being seated. The dragons have a section reserved for them behind the players’ seats, too. All fourteen bureau bodyguards escort
the Sol de Noche dragons to the area. Some of the Zmey Gorynych dragons smell the bodyguards’ suits and shoes. They lose interest minutes later and focus on their fellow dragons.

  Onesa’s the first person to greet us. She hugs me with reddened eyes, then moves on to Gabriela behind me. I go down the row of chairs. Aneni and Wataida take the longest to release me. Artem and Kirill are at the end of the row. Kirill heads straight for Edwin, giving him a sweet, lingering kiss. They hold each other’s hands as they claim their seats side by side.

  As I sit next to her, Onesa says, “How are you feeling?”

  “Better but still wrecked, if that makes any sense. You?”

  “Grateful.” She nudges me. “Very grateful for all of you.”

  I thank her with a nod, then distract myself with my surroundings. Our side of the field fills up pretty quickly. The Scottish team is the only one not here yet. On the other side of the black carpet, staff and team management file in little by little. Manny and Joaquín have already settled in the first row, right across from me. There are two empty seats beside Manny. A lone bureau agent is guarding them. Maybe it’s for the president and Ambassador Haddad?

  I still can’t believe Takeshi’s not allowed to attend the funeral. Scratch that. I can believe it. It just stings more than salt to a fresh wound. The thought of him staring at his prison cell’s walls with no chance of bidding his best friend farewell cracks my heart in half. Would he have handled seeing Andrew’s casket with his usual poise? Or would he have cried again?

  The crowd breaks into earsplitting applause.

  Takeshi and his mother are walking down the black carpet.

  I’m gripping the edge of my seat way too tight. He’s really here!

  Mrs. Endo grabs onto his arm, elegant in her black dress and shawl. He’s not in handcuffs anymore. He’s not in his Dragon Knight outfit, either. Takeshi’s been allowed to wear a crisp black suit and tie for the occasion. His cropped hair is gelled down. He looks fresh off a menswear catalogue instead of a Ravensworth Penitentiary cell.

  Seven bureau agents tail him. They become his shadows as he helps Mrs. Endo to her seat, then takes his own next to her. Joaquín avoids him. Manny dares to say something to Takeshi. I can’t quite read his lips. Takeshi bows his head quickly, but he doesn’t look at Manny.

  He looks at me.

  Neither of us smiles or says a word. This is the first time I’ve seen him in days. This might be the last time I see him until his trial. This might be the last time I ever see him.

  He’s looking at me like he knows it, too.

  It’s been three days since he poisoned Randall Wiggins. Even though the bureau hasn’t confirmed anything publicly, he should be dead by now.

  It’s also been three days since Takeshi told me that I gave him hope.

  Scottish bagpipes start playing in the distance. Musicians march down the carpet, wearing traditional Scottish attire. Andrew’s closed mahogany casket floats right behind them. My heart constricts. Ms. Galloway is clutching a tear-stained napkin, her gaze to the floor. Team Scotland marches a few feet away from her. Two boys and one girl are crying already. Their dragon steeds approach with heads held high, but wrecked with deep frowns and tear-filled eyes.

  President Turner, Ambassador Haddad, and Director Sandhar round out the procession. While everyone goes to the stage, Ms. Galloway heads to Takeshi. He sweeps her into a hug. She cries quietly into his shoulder, then he whispers something that makes her smile. Ms. Galloway pulls away first, giving Takeshi a soft kiss on the cheek, then she embraces Mrs. Endo. They hold each other close for a while. It’s only when Ambassador Haddad speaks into his microphone that Ms. Galloway leaves for the stage.

  Ambassador Haddad and President Turner give tender speeches about what Andrew meant to them. Director Sandhar thanks him for his courage and reiterates how he’d been a hero off the field. Andrew’s teammates also take turns speaking about his humor and unparalleled love for his country. The musicians play more songs. A singer croons about heaven and angels.

  Ms. Galloway is the last to address the audience. “My son would be so touched to see how much you all love him. I’m touched to see it. There are many things I wish I could’ve told him. So my wish for you all is to speak your truths. It’s a difficult task, but it’s so worthwhile. Andrew knew that better than anyone. He spoke his truth. He fought for his truth. Wherever you’re from, however old you are, do what’s in your heart before it’s too late.”

  I’m sniffling and clapping along with the whole stadium. Once Ms. Galloway wraps up, the Golden Horns aim streams of fire into the air. Warmth trickles down to where I sit. They burn the sky while Andrew’s casket floats back down the aisle with the recession. When he passes me, I press a fist against my heart, vowing to never forget his mother’s words and his selfless acts. I vow to fight for my truth, too, regardless of the odds.

  I search for Takeshi again.

  He’s already gone.

  So are his mother and guards. I frown at the carpet. They must’ve Transported.

  Onesa hugs me goodbye. I do the same with everyone else, exchanging numbers with the friends I’ve been lucky to gain, wishing them well in whatever they choose to do next. Then Manny wrangles us so we can get back to the van.

  Victoria takes her time looking around the stadium. “This is the last Blazewrath field there will ever be,” she says solemnly. “We won’t get to play ever again.”

  “True,” says Héctor. He takes a bow. “But the rest of our lives have just begun.”

  We all take quick bows, too, saying goodbye to the life we once knew.

  Then we link arms and exit the stadium for the last time.

  MOM IS ALREADY AT THE COMPOUND WHEN I GET THERE.

  Samira, her family, and Marisol are in the living room, sharing a giant bag of potato chips and flipping through TV channels. Noora is also there, sandwiched between Shay and Mom.

  “Hi, Lana,” Noora says. “It’s great to see you again.”

  “Great to see you, too. Were you at the service?”

  “Yes. I told my father I preferred not to work today. I just wanted to be someone in the stands.” She pulls something out of her purse. “I came here to give you this.”

  She’s holding out a photo of Andrew and me. We’re standing by the chocolate fountain at the welcome party. He’s smiling. I look confused. I had no idea Noora was at the party, let alone that she had immortalized my first conversation with Andrew in a picture.

  “You’re really good at stealth,” I say with a laugh. “I can keep it?”

  “No newspaper or magazine could ever offer me enough money. You should have it.”

  “Thank you.” I hold on to the photo as if it were my most prized possession. Then I hug the wonderful girl who gave it to me. “What will you do after today?”

  “Go back to freelancing. I was hoping to do a portrait series, but I still haven’t decided on a subject. Perhaps things will fall into place soon.” She smiles. “If you ever need a photographer, you know where to find me.”

  “I wouldn’t ask anyone else.”

  Noora walks over to Marisol while I plop down on the edge of the couch. Mom puts her hand on top of mine in silence. Samira offers me some potato chips, but I decline, so she gives the bag to Mr. Jones instead.

  “Did everyone finish packing?” Manny asks.

  “All packed,” Héctor confirms. “I threatened to sing if they didn’t.”

  We all laugh.

  “You’re kidding me …” Shay says. “You’re. Kidding. Me.”

  “What is it?” Samira asks.

  Shay points to the TV.

  I notice the Flash News logo first. Then I spot the segment title flashing on the bottom of the screen: EXCLUSIVE! LANA TORRES’S COUSIN BREAKS HIS SILENCE!

  Martin B. Wright sits across from the Boy King. He’s as revoltingly smug as ever. He reeks of money in his brand-new Dior suit, Balmain loafers, and black Rolex.

  “Welcome to this editio
n of The Wright Report. I’m your host, Martin B. Wright, and I’m thrilled to announce our guest for today, Mister Todd Anderson.”

  The camera pans to my sellout cousin. “Thank you for having me, Martin. It’s an honor,” Todd says with the inflection of a trained political spin machine.

  “Let’s dive right in. After Lana Torres’s spectacular failure of a press conference in Dubai, you and your aunt were apprehended by the bureau and moved to a secret location for fear of a Sire attack. What are you allowed to share with us about that experience?”

  Todd pretends to be pained with a grimace. “Not much. What I can say is that I felt appalled with how little regard for my life Lana holds. She purposely put me in danger.”

  “Has she reached out to you since the Sire’s defeat?”

  “Not a word, but my cousin has always been selfish. She even started an argument with me on my birthday, and it was over my justified criticism of how much the world is enamored with dragons. I’m glad she was able to end the Sire’s reign. His defeat is a victory for wizards and Regulars alike. His supporters disgust me. I hope the bureau captures them all.”

  “So you would classify Lana and the Puerto Rican team as heroes, then?”

  “They’re misguided. You can’t go around thinking only one dragon is a rotten egg. Dragons are dangerous. They’re elitists who think this world is theirs to burn.”

  Just like you.

  “You don’t believe the Bond is strong enough to keep them in check?” Martin asks.

  “There’s nothing we can do to tame these monsters. They’re just biding their time, playing the game until they’re ready.” Todd rubs his chin, then sighs. “Another Sire will emerge. Another dragon who thinks he’s a god will come for our blood.” He speaks to the camera. “Gold Wands, if you’re listening, heed this warning. We have to end them before they end us.”