by Mary Fan
Aurelia rushed forward, the air around her crackling with energy and magic flames. The more strategic thing to do would have been to let the fangbeast go after the boy and take it down while it was distracted, but everything about that idea seemed absolutely wrong. “Hey! Fangbeast! I’m the one you want, not him!”
The fangbeast would not defeat her – she’d been born to destroy monsters like it. She spread her arms, whipping her blades out and hitting two creatures at once. Knowing the blows weren’t enough to behead them, she yanked her swords back, then spun, striking one in the same spot twice more and finishing it off. The other pounced at her, and she dodged in the nick of time. She sliced at the beast’s head, hitting the wound she’d already created. It went down, and the body vanished.
This monster was no match for her; she was the monster to monsters. That was why they called her the Firedragon.
But no matter what she did, the fangbeast seemed more interested in the boy. His spells, powerful as they appeared, did no more than anger the beast, and Aurelia suddenly recalled that the fangbeast was attracted to supernatural fire. The boy held a force field before him with one hand and threw explosions from the wand with the other, apparently believing his shield would protect him from the oncoming attackers. But her head filled with images of that first Enchanter who’d been killed facing it, and she realized this boy was using the same magic that Enchanter had – and making the same mistakes. Panic rose in her heart, and she cried, “Stop shooting!”
But the boy continued blasting, and she remembered that he couldn’t understand her words. The hungry eyes of each clone fixed on him, and they charged at him in unison. She closed the distance between herself and the monsters and tried to engage them, but with their backs to her, all she could do was strike them from behind, and they ignored her. In the end, she wasn’t fast enough to save him. The creatures tore through his shield, and she cried out in despair, knowing he was dead before he let out his last scream.
The scream went silent, and an indescribable cold rushed through Aurelia – icier even than when she’d realized Vilk was dead. But why? Why did the boy’s death affect her so? She didn’t even know his name.
She clenched her jaw and forced herself to keep moving. She couldn’t afford to freeze again, like she had when she’d realized Vilk was dead.
Now that the boy was gone, the fangbeast and its clones turned all their attention to her. They snarled at her, and she snarled back. Fueled by an explosion of rage, she charged at them and attacked with unthinking fury. She kept swinging her blades, kept dodging the creatures’ claws, kept anticipating their movements. As she became accustomed to listening to her instincts, she found that she was able to take out the clones before they had a chance to duplicate, steadily cutting down the Fangbeast’s numbers until only one remained.
She turned to it, focus as sharp as a knife’s edge, and whipped her blades across the last creature’s neck. Its head fell to the ground … and remained there.
She waited.
It didn’t get up, didn’t multiply, didn’t do anything but lie there, dead.
She’d done it. Somehow, against all odds, she’d killed the creature everyone said couldn’t be killed by a Norm. She didn’t know how – she barely remembered anything but a blur of snapping jaws. Still, in spite of everything she’d endured, one thought shone through her mind: I won.
A powerful feeling of triumph swelled in her heart, but there was no joy in it. Just righteous satisfaction and relief that the fight was over. The Triumvirate had sent her here so the world could watch her die, but instead, she’d shown them how powerful a Norm could be.
She’d vanquished her enemies – both the ones with fangs and the ones with wands.
Suddenly, exhaustion hit her from all sides. She didn’t know how long she’d been fighting, but her body, which had held its own for so long, couldn’t take any more. Her swords fell from her hands, and she collapsed next to the dead fangbeast, feeling like she was actually sinking into the concrete. Heat radiated from her skin, and sweat seeped out of every pore.
She rolled onto her back and blinked at the pale blue sky, the feeling of victory giving way to a flood of sorrow as she thought about the allies she’d lost. She knew she hadn’t been responsible for Vilk or the Chinese boy, but she couldn’t help feeling like their deaths were somehow her fault. Her eyes began to water, and she squeezed them hard, wishing she could forget the sights of their lifeless bodies. She told herself that they hadn’t died in vain – that by helping her reach the end of the Challenge, they, too, had played a part in changing the world. She’d make sure that everyone remembered that.
Hearing a swoosh above her, she opened her eyes. Through her hazy vision, she saw a gold figure descending toward her. Was she dead? she wondered. Delirious? Then she stopped thinking, too tired to care.
The last thing she knew before blackness fell was a Sentinel pointing his wand at her and whispering, “Sopor.”
Aurelia opened her eyes and saw a dark red wand pointed at her. Alarmed, she yanked it out of the Enchanter’s hand and held up a fist.
“Calm down, Aurelia. I was lifting the sleeping spell.”
Recognizing the voice as Professor Williams’, she relaxed. When she looked around, she realized that she lay in her bed in the tiny dorm room at the Academy of Supernatural Defense. She was … home?
Puzzled, she gave the wand back to Williams and sat up. “What happened?”
She remembered killing the fangbeast and seeing the headless body of the source creature dead beside her, but nothing after that. The anger and satisfaction she’d felt in that moment seeped back into her mind, but paled next to the whirl of confusion. How had she ended up back in her room?
Williams handed her a mini Procul Mirror. “It’s easier to show you. This is what the Triumvirate broadcast from the Challenge.”
Confused, she looked at the mirror, where she saw herself swinging her swords, beheading fangbeast clones as the Chinese boy threw his wand blasts.
She couldn’t help smiling. I look good.
Then the boy went down, and the image went black. She frowned, then felt a sudden sob rise up her chest, and clenched her jaw. She had no reason to cry – she’d already known the Chinese boy was dead, and he’d fallen because of his own mistakes. Why should she care?
But despite everything she told herself, she couldn’t stop the deep sorrow from penetrating her heart. She hadn’t known anything about the boy, but he was a person – and she’d failed him. Just like she’d failed Vilk.
Meanwhile, the image on the Procul Mirror remained blank. She looked up at Professor Williams with a quizzical expression, wondering what his point had been.
“Keep watching,” he said.
A few seconds later, the image from the Challenge broadcast reappeared, showing a gold-cloaked Sentinel standing beside the slain fangbeast with Aurelia, unconscious, in his arms.
She looked up at Williams, even more confused than before. The memory of someone whispering a spell returned to her mind, and she realized it must have been a sleeping enchantment. “He knocked me out? Why?”
“To make it appear as though he’d rescued you,” Williams replied. “According to the Triumvirate, that Sentinel took pity on you and stopped the broadcast to kill the fangbeast.”
“What?” She shot up, unwilling to believe what he’d told her. “I killed it! I did what a dozen Sentinels couldn’t! What any Enchanter couldn’t!”
“I believe you. And that’s precisely what the Triumvirate couldn’t let the people see.” His voice sounded calm, but she detected the wrathful fire in his expression, blazing behind his crinkled brown eyes. She got the feeling that there was more to him than the calm, scholarly teacher she knew, but she wasn’t sure what question she could ask to learn more.
Her gaze flew back to the Procul Mirror, which showed the Sentinel, still holding Aurelia, telling the Challenge officials that he’d had enough of the bloodshed and couldn’t stan
d by while a young girl was slaughtered. Rage couldn’t begin to describe the desire she had to rip the Sentinel’s throat out and dump his body into a pit of fire. How dare he lie like that? How dare he? A million curses blazed on the tip of her tongue, too powerful to form into words. She’d killed that fangbeast fair and square, and now this Sentinel was taking credit? And making her look like a pansy in the process?
She glanced up at Williams, feeling her face twist into an involuntary snarl.
“It was all planned,” he said, his expression placid but for the simmering anger in his eyes. “If it looked like one of the champions might succeed, the nearest Sentinel was to take credit for the kill.”
“They’re all liars!” she yelled. She flung the Procul Mirror against the wall, and it shattered. Breathing hard, she worked to contain the urge to let out a primal cry of sheer rage. All her efforts, all her hopes, had been for nothing. She’d beaten the Triumvirate’s game, killed a fangbeast all by herself, proven that she could do it … only to have her victory stolen. More than that, it had been twisted to serve their purposes. She’d made herself believe that all those deaths – Vilk’s, the Chinese boy’s, the Triumvirate Enchanter’s – had been the price of the better world her victory would bring. Now they seemed so senseless.
She grabbed her hair and buried her face in her knees, too furious to even scream. She’d devoted her life, her heart, her very self to the belief that someday, she’d prove that Norms were as worthy as Enchanters. She’d kept herself going in spite of everything she’d endured because of the belief that in the end, monsters were evil, and the Triumvirate was her home. She’d thought it all made sense – fight for them, and for the hope that one day, the world could be a better place.
But now, they’d betrayed her. And she could never forgive them for that.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Williams gazing down at her, his bushy gray eyebrows tilted in sympathy. “Calm, yourself, Aurelia,” he said. “Think of it this way: By surviving, you’ve already defied their intentions.”
“That’s worse!” she shouted. “I wanted to prove that Norms don’t need Enchanters. Now, it looks like they’re freaking saviors! So what was it even for?” That question seemed too small, too weak to express all her dashed hopes, but it was the best she could do in the moment.
How had she spent her whole life serving the Triumvirate, believing they were the good guys? So many had died because of the International Challenge – including people she cared about. And if she hadn’t done something crazy, even Connor would have been among the dead. She’d thought that the monsters were the enemy, but in the end they’d just been the weapons. The Triumvirate – the ones who had orchestrated the whole competition – had been the killers.
And she’d been nothing more than an instrument in their plans. They were evil, and they would never change … unless they were forced to.
“They’ll always treat me and my kind like dirt,” she said through gritted teeth. “Now I want to destroy them!”
“Quiet down.” He put his hand on her shoulder and dropped his voice. “You’re not the only one who wants change. Neither was Vilk. And neither am I.”
She looked up at him, shocked by those last words. He’d been the one who warned Vilk that such talk could get a person arrested, so why was he agreeing with her – and speaking those words himself? “What do you mean?” she asked.
He straightened. “There are those of us who believe that the Triumvirate is broken beyond repair. Not only because of the way they oppress Norms, but because they stifle freedom and hold absolute power over their people. Sometimes, the old must be destroyed to make way for the new. If you want to know more, I’ll tell you later.”
“What?” What did that mean? And how could he say such things? They were clearly in –
Oh. She caught a glimpse of a silver shimmer and realized that he must have cast a silencer spell when she wasn’t looking. A good thing, too – everything she’d said since watching the mirror could be seen as treason. Not to mention the things he’d just whispered. She watched him in anticipation, thinking that the spell must have meant he had more to say, some secret to share.
But instead of replying, he just turned and walked toward the door. Aurelia watched him, puzzled. He said he wanted change as much as she did, but it sounded like he didn’t think the Triumvirate was capable of making that change. It sounded like, instead of just modifying it, like she’d wanted to, he wanted to replace it.
It sounded like he was talking about … revolution.
But that was insanity … wasn’t it? How could anyone take on the Triumvirate? They held more power than any other government in the world. She was about to call after him and ask him what he’d meant, but just then the door opened from the outside, and someone else entered.
Aurelia gasped when she saw who it was.
Connor?! Why was he here? Was it to yell at her for breaking his arm, giving him a concussion, and forcing him to forfeit the competition? That had to be it – if he’d done the same to her, she would have wasted no time in letting her temper loose on him. Nervousness gripped her, but she held her expression steady. She had to explain herself to him, whether or not he’d listen.
Williams stepped out of the way to let Connor in. “Hello, Connor. I assure you, she’s perfectly all right.” He started toward the door, then turned back, his brow furrowed. “Aurelia, how did you kill the fangbeast?”
The question brought her back to those frenzied-yet-blurred moments she’d spent with the monster. She wished she had an explanation, but all she remembered was that the fangbeast – and its clones – had been unusually predictable. She knitted her eyebrows, trying to come up with the words to explain that. “I don’t know. It’s like I could see what was gonna happen before it happened. I’ve always been fast, but … it’s never been like that before.”
“Interesting. There may be more to you than …” He trailed off and left without another word, leaving Aurelia to wonder what, if anything, he had meant by that. His silencer spell remained in her room, its silver shimmer still surrounding her.
Her eyes flicked over to Connor, who stood in the doorway with his arm in a sling. The guilt that had flooded her when she’d fallen to the ground, crying beside his unconscious form, flooded back into her mind, and she dropped her gaze, not daring to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“For what?” he asked gently. “Saving my life?”
She looked up and saw him standing beside her, his expression holding only kindness.
Then he lifted the corner of his mouth into the smile that she knew so well. “I’m here to thank you. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.”
For a moment he just looked at her, and though she knew he expected her to reply, she didn’t know what to say. Too much happiness and relief flooded into her heart at knowing she might still have her best friend. She felt the corners of her mouth tugging upward, wanting to spread into the widest grin she’d ever given, and pressed her lips together to keep from looking like total idiot. Did he understand after all? Did he not hate her for what she’d done to him? Of all the things she’d been wrong about, this might be the one thing she was glad for.
But what was she supposed to say? Her mind couldn’t come up with anything meaningful, so she let out the only words that came to her mouth: “Yeah, I knew you were a goner. Had to stop you from getting yourself killed.”
“You were right.” He drew a breath, and the smile fell. “I also know they lied about what happened with you and the fangbeast. That’s … awful.”
“I hate the Triumvirate.” She couldn’t stop the words from leaving her tongue, and glared at the ground in frustration. “They’re freaking evil!”
“I agree.” He sounded offhand, but even though those two little words could be interpreted as treason, and Aurelia looked up, surprised. That was the last reaction she’d expected from him.
“Really? But your dad’s
the head honcho.”
“You mean the dad who threw me away to tighten his grip on power?” A dark look clouded his eyes. “He’s been in power long enough.”
Aurelia realized now why Williams had left that silencer spell in the air – he must have known that Connor agreed with him. Her heart clamored with excitement at the idea that she wasn’t alone in her hopes of bringing freedom and equality to her people, and suddenly the world no longer looked bleak and hopeless. A larger war was brewing – that must be what Williams and Connor were talking about – and she wanted nothing more than to join the fight. It was what she’d always wanted, she realized now. Knowing that her best friend wanted to fight by her side made her all the more eager.
“So what happens next?” she wondered aloud. “How do we get rid of the Triumvirate when they’re so powerful?”
“We can’t do it alone,” Connor said, meeting her gaze. “But there are others who think like us, and we need to find them.”
She nodded. Anger still smoldered in her heart, but she could feel it growing into something more than the raw fury that had overwhelmed her before. It was morphing into a sense of purpose and steely determination. She wouldn’t bow her head, slink back into her previous life, and stew in silence, like the Triumvirate wanted her to. She already knew of two people who’d fight the Triumvirate with her – Connor and Professor Williams – and she was certain that if she looked hard enough, she’d discover others. From the way Williams had talked, he already knew who some of them were. Together, they would rally behind their shared cause, becoming an unstoppable force. They could take down the Triumvirate, right the wrongs, and bring about a new era of freedom.
She could still change the world.
The Triumvirate may have won this time, but she hadn’t lost – not yet. The Challenge was meant to prove how dangerous the monsters were. It had served its purpose all right, except that in the end, it hadn’t galvanized her against the supernatural like it was supposed to. The fiends and beasts were bad, yeah, but the real monsters were right here in the city, manipulating people, using lies to keep them in line. Killing them, if words wouldn’t do it.