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Chapter 8: Attack on Xyrus Part 3

Sleep? Never heard of her.

Third Person POV

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Claire Bladeheart

Humility. Loyalty. Resoluteness. Courage.

These were the words instilled in me even before I understood what they meant. These were the four qualities that were necessary in order to have a heart as sharp as a sword. This was the creed of the Bladeheart family.

Ignorant as I was as a child, I had truly believed that I would be able to follow this sacred doctrine my family was built upon... no matter what circumstances.

How truly ignorant I was.

This was the thought that clawed at my mind; making my heart ache as I stood helplessly, watching... simply watching.

Simply watching as Theodore was beaten and burned into an unrecognizable state.

Simply watching as Elijah fearlessly tried to defy, despite being unaided, a figure so powerful I could only submit and hope... hope that I'll somehow make it out alive.

Even with my eyes fixed on the scene, I had trouble registering what exactly was occurring, much less believe it to be real.

What all of the student mages here could not hope to do; what all of the professors here failed to accomplish—Elijah, single-handedly, had achieved.

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"But he got taken as a cost. Was it all really worth it?" Kaspian clenched his fists as he had the thought of Elijah being taken and potentially killed by the Alacryans for using Vritra magic.

"No, no it was not worth it." Grey said suddenly, and everybody's eyes were on him.

"Why is that, Grey?" Kaspian asked him, unsure of what he meant by that.

"You'll see in the later reactions, Kaspian." He said, not at all satisfying his curiosity.

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I had never deemed him as anything more than Arthur's silly friend. He had given me the impression of being easy-going, almost ditzy at times, but not at this moment. After he had cursed aloud at Lucas, his demeanor shifted into someone unrecognizable.

As thoughtless and downright mad as he may have been, that ditzy friend displayed what I couldn't.

As if Elijah's enraged cry had released his soul, Elijah's body seemed almost lifeless as his shoulder's slumped and his head hunched forward. I couldn't help but look away when suddenly a blast of black, metallic spikes shot out of the ground. I thought Arthur's friend had already died, but I realized it wasn't Draneeve or any of his henchmen that invoked the mysterious spell; it was Elijah that casted it.

The spell he had used then was unusual, almost unnatural, but it was when he placed his palm on the surface of the barrier; when a black flame magic began coiling around his hand, melting the transparent barrier like it was butter, that a cold chill ran down my spine.

Seeing that mysterious magic so easily destroy something not even the professors combined could scratch, I felt hope. Maybe he would be able to end this. It was also that, alongside this feeling of hope, I felt an almost tangible contempt for myself.

I looked down to realize my hand had unconsciously gripped the hilt of my sword. I couldn't help but scoff at myself. What use was this sword of mine if fear rendered me unable to even take a step forward.