The qualifiers resumed exactly as Freya had announced, and the atmosphere was everything Lowell had expected. Thick. Charged. Electric with whispers and rumors about the incident in the maze. Everywhere he looked, students from other guild academies stared just a moment too long, conversations hushing as Cross Company passed.

  For Bart and Lowell, the days since the artifact retrieval challenge had been grueling.

  During the academic break, Bart and Lowell had no other responsibilities. Yet no matter how hard they tried, Rina, a harsh taskmaster, forced them to train relentlessly. Every morning began before the sun crested the horizon, and every spare moment was devoted to preparing for the challenges ahead.

  The elimination of certain events, such as the Zaukring competition, had thrown some teams off balance. Zaukring was considered one of the most physically demanding and magically technical challenges, and its cancellation was particularly significant for Helena's team, who had been expected to dominate the event. Lowell couldn't help but wonder how the absence of that competition might shift the balance for their rivals, and in turn give them a better chance at overtaking Helena's team. Not that it mattered much if Cross Company couldn't secure their own victories.

  The qualifiers started early, earlier than they had on the day of artifact retrieval challenge. Lowell was already sore when he arrived back at the guild hall in Ulster.

  By mid-morning, the track and field events were underway. Bart, representing Cross Company, had thrown himself into the endurance race with everything he had. Lowell watched from the sidelines, his body still aching from his own events earlier.

  Bart's feet pounded against the track, his legs burning with effort. He was gaining ground on the leader. In the final moments of the race, Lowell actually thought Bart might win. Bart pushed harder, his face a mask of determination. But just as he rounded the final bend, Tybetha from Ashvein Guild Academy drew from a deeper well. Her burst of speed carried her past him like she was barely trying. Bart crossed the finish line two seconds behind her, collapsing forward with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

  "I don't think I've ever run so far, or so fast," Bart complained later, collapsing onto one of the plush couches in the Ulster guild hall. His chest still heaved as he threw an arm over his face. "Not even when the nightmare was chasing me."

  "And yet we still came in behind Tybetha," Rina said, her tone neutral but sharp enough to cut.

  Bart shot her a wounded look, pausing as realization dawned. "Hey, I tried! You think it's easy running against someone who doesn't even look like she's breathing hard? Or at all?" He sat up straighter, his expression shifting from wounded to thoughtful. "Wait, is she even human?"

  Lowell, dismissing Bart's question about his opponent, was equally exhausted from his own events. He groaned as he leaned back against the couch. "She didn't mean it like that, Bart. Right, Rina?" He glanced at her, unsure.

  "No," Rina admitted, though her crossed arms and furrowed brow suggested she was irritated by more than just Bart's loss. "Still, we needed that win." She glanced at the scoreboard posted near the hall's entrance, her frustration visible. Their standing in the division wasn't where it needed to be, and it was starting to show.

  The targeting competition that followed had been Rina's turn to shine. Or so they thought. Lowell watched her take position, her stance perfect, her focus absolute. Her first dagger hit dead center. The second struck just beside it. The third and fourth followed in rapid succession, each finding its mark with precision that drew murmurs from the gathered crowd. She was in first place. She was winning.

  Her final throw would determine everything. Rina drew back her arm, her body taut with concentration. Everything went still. Then her arm snapped forward, the blade spinning through the air, and Lowell felt his breath catch. The dagger flew true, perfect trajectory, and then a sudden crosswind gusted across the field. The blade veered left, missing the bullseye by three inches. Rina stood frozen, her hand still outstretched. Then she lowered it, picked up her gear, and walked away without a word. Lowell had seen enough to know the loss cut deep, even if she'd never admit it.

  Back in the guild hall, the weight of their struggles hung over them like a cloud. Rina tapped her fingers against the armrest of the couch, her frustration barely contained. Lowell stared out the window, his thoughts distant, while Bart shifted uncomfortably, trying to lighten the mood.

  Though Cross Company's performance wasn't disastrous, it was far from what they had hoped for. As far as they knew, their scores were still high enough to qualify for the Acadethalon, but the stakes for them were higher than for anyone else. The wager with Headmaster Byron hung over them like a storm cloud. Even if they qualified, only one team from Orus would be allowed to advance to the Acadethalon. That meant either Cross Company or Helena's team. The very real possibility that Helena's team could outperform them was an ever-present shadow, one that seemed to grow longer with each passing event.

  Rina felt it most keenly. The thought of losing wasn't just frustrating; it was infuriating. If Cross Company didn't score higher than Helena's team, the student guild she had worked so hard to build would be disbanded, and all of their efforts would have been for nothing. That pressure simmered just beneath her surface, turning every missed opportunity and narrow loss into fuel for her irritation. She hadn't spoken it aloud, but the others could see it in the way her jaw clenched when she thought no one was looking, or the sharp edge that crept into her words when they discussed their standings. The uncertainty made it worse. Rina didn't know if they were ahead or behind, and the not knowing was maddening.

  "Hey," Bart said suddenly, as if grasping for a distraction. "Have either of you heard anything about the nightmare? You know... the one we saw in the maze?"

  Lowell shook his head. "No, nothing. I'm sure Master Seif, Master Grimm, and Warden Theander are handling it."

  "I hope they're okay," Bart murmured, though a shiver ran through him at the memory. The nightmare had haunted his dreams more than once since the maze.

  "I'm sure they're fine," Lowell said, standing with a sigh. His body ached from the day's events, but the need for fresh air outweighed his exhaustion. "I'm going for a walk. I need to clear my head."

  Bart gave a lazy wave, too tired to follow, while Rina didn't even acknowledge him. Her gaze remained fixed on the distant scoreboard, her fingers curling into fists. She didn't have to say it aloud. Cross Company's chances were slipping away, and it was beginning to feel like they might lose more than just the qualifiers.

  Lowell hesitated at the doorway, glancing back at his teammates. "We'll figure it out," he said quietly, though he wasn't sure if he was reassuring them or himself. "We're not out yet."

  Bart offered a faint smile in return. Rina's jaw tightened as she stared straight ahead. Lowell sighed and stepped into the corridor, the weight of their struggles pressing against his shoulders.

  The sky hung low, a heavy blanket of gray clouds that stretched endlessly across the horizon. A cool breeze swept through the streets, carrying with it the promise of rain. Though it hadn't started yet, the scent of damp earth already lingered in the air. It was the kind of weather that made everything feel quieter, subdued, and yet restless. Rumors swirled among the competitors that the endurance run event would still take place, rain or shine, and the thought of trekking through the slippery, uneven terrain of Runis made Lowell want to return to the dormitory. For now, though, the rain held off.

  Ulster bustled with life despite the overcast sky. The borough was one of Dahncrest's oldest districts, a testament to the city's origins. Once a fortified base of operations for reclaiming the ruins, Ulster had evolved into a wealthy, vibrant neighborhood. Its cobblestone streets were wide, flanked by grand buildings with arched windows and wrought iron railings. Central Avenue, the main thoroughfare, cut through the borough like a precise line, leading north toward the bridge that led to the Citadel and south toward the still-untamed ruins.

  Lowell wandered past shops and residences, his boots clicking softly against the pavement. The aroma of fresh bread wafted through the air, drawing his attention to a guild bakery across the street. The warm, inviting scent seemed almost out of place against the cold, gray backdrop of the sky, but it pulled at him nonetheless. He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against a few leftover credits. Good enough.

  Jogging across the busy street, weaving between foot traffic, cars, and the occasional trolley, Lowell made his way to the bakery. He slowed as he neared the shop window, his gaze drawn to the display of baked goods inside. Sweet breads dusted with sugar, golden baguettes stacked neatly, round loaves with perfectly crisp crusts. A row of pastries gleamed temptingly under the soft glow of the display case, each one more decadent than the last. His stomach growled faintly, and he realized just how long it had been since he'd eaten.

  It wasn't until he shifted slightly that he noticed her. A small elw girl stood near the window, practically pressed against the glass, staring intently at the sweets inside. Her platinum blonde hair, nearly white, fell loosely around her shoulders, and her ears twitched slightly as she tilted her head. There was something comical and endearing about the way she gazed at the pastries, her expression a mixture of pure longing and deep frustration, as though the universe itself had conspired against her to keep those baked goods just out of reach.

  Lowell blinked, momentarily thrown. She looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. He hesitated before stepping closer. "Uh... are you okay?"

  The girl flinched, as if his voice had snapped her out of a spell. She turned to look at him, her vivid green eyes narrowing slightly in recognition. "Lowell Brandt?" she asked, her voice light but carrying a trace of exasperation.

  Lowell froze. "Wait... aren't you—"

  "Anna Fa'rina Yuhta," she interrupted, brushing her hair back behind her ears. "Klein's sister." She glanced back at the window display, her expression darkening as she folded her arms. "You wouldn't happen to have any credits on you, would you?"

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Lowell blinked again, caught off guard by the abruptness of her question. "Uh... maybe? Why?"

  Anna let out a dramatic sigh, pressing the back of a hand to her forehead like she was about to collapse. "Because I left my purse at home," she groaned, her voice filled with despair. "And I've been walking around for hours and now all I can think about is how perfect that melon bread looks." She jabbed a finger at the display, her energy suddenly returning as she fixated on the round, golden loaf. "Look at it. It's like it's mocking me. I can almost taste it, but it's just... right... there." She leaned forward slightly, as if sheer proximity might somehow satisfy her hunger.

  Lowell stared, unsure whether to laugh or feel sorry for her. "Why didn't you just go home to get your money?"

  Anna gave him a flat look, as though he'd just suggested something utterly unreasonable. "Do you have any idea how far that is? By the time I get back here, the bread will be gone. Gone!" She practically wailed the last word, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Then, as if the thought had drained the last of her energy, she slumped dramatically against the window, her face pressed to the glass. "This is the worst."

  Lowell couldn't help it. A small laugh escaped him. "You're really making a big deal out of one loaf of bread."

  Anna shot him a withering glare, but there was no real malice in it. "You clearly don't understand the concept of priorities, Brandt. Food comes first, always."

  "Fair enough," Lowell said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his remaining credits and counted them quickly. "I guess I can spot you this once."

  Anna's ears perked up instantly, and she turned to him with a look of pure, radiant joy. "Really? You mean it?" Before he could even respond, she grabbed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so petite. "I take back what I said about you not understanding priorities. You're a good person. A noble soul."

  Lowell raised an eyebrow but couldn't suppress a grin. "Let's just get the bread before you pass out in front of the shop."

  Anna nodded eagerly, already pulling him toward the bakery door. "You won't regret this! I promise I'll pay you back... eventually."

  Lowell sighed but followed her inside, the warm smell of freshly baked goods enveloping them as they stepped into the shop. Somehow, the moment felt like a brief reprieve, a lighthearted distraction from the storm clouds both outside and on the horizon.

  #

  The sky remained overcast, the low-hanging clouds casting a muted light over the bustling streets of Ulster. The air thickened with the scent of rain, mingling with the warm, comforting aroma of fresh bread from the nearby bakery. Lowell and Anna sat on a wrought iron bench near the shop, watching people pass by in a hurry to avoid the impending storm. The rhythmic click of boots on cobblestones and the occasional rumble of trolley wheels or those of the automobiles created a quiet symphony in the background.

  Anna was hunched over, clutching her melon bread as though it were a priceless treasure. She took exaggerated, deliberate bites, her eyes closed in blissful concentration. "Mphff... mphff..." she mumbled between mouthfuls, utterly absorbed in the experience.

  Lowell raised an eyebrow, half-amused. "How is it?"

  Anna swallowed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart as if to emphasize the gravity of her response. "Delicious. Absolutely perfect. The best melon bread I've ever had. Thank you for your noble sacrifice, Lowell Brandt." She broke off a small piece and thrust it toward him. "Here. Your reward."

  Lowell hesitated before taking it, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Thanks, I guess." He bit into the piece, nodding as the sweetness spread across his tongue. It was good, but Anna's reverence for it bordered on comedic.

  Anna continued savoring her bread, swinging her legs idly beneath the bench. For a moment, the air between them was companionable, filled only with the ambient sounds of the city. Finally, Lowell broke the silence. "What are you doing at the qualifiers, Anna?"

  Her carefree demeanor faltered slightly, and she fidgeted with the wrapper in her lap. "Well... I wanted to apologize for my brother's actions," she admitted, her tone quieter now. "You've probably figured it out by now, but Klein has been helping Weston. Giving them information, tipping the scales in their favor."

  Lowell leaned back, folding his arms. "I suspected as much. Weston always seems to have a little too much intel on their competition. But why? Klein challenged me directly. If he's so interested in testing my skills, why stack the deck against us?"

  Anna glanced away, her ears twitching as she considered his question. "Maybe he wants to make sure you're worth his time," she murmured.

  Lowell frowned, watching a trolley rumble by. "And the schism? Was Klein involved with that, too?"

  Anna shook her head firmly. "No. My brother might be many things, but he doesn't have that kind of power." Her voice softened, dropping slightly, and there was a hesitation in her words that Lowell couldn't ignore.

  Lowell felt his muscles tense. He studied her carefully, his brow furrowing. She was avoiding his gaze now, her hands fidgeting in her lap, but the admission still lingered between them, crackling like static.

  Lowell opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. He looked across the street, watching as people went about their daily life. There was a question he wanted to ask, one that wasn't fair, but it gnawed at him all the same. Anna was Klein's half-sister, and no matter how different she seemed from him, that connection was hard to ignore.

  The silence stretched between them, uncomfortable now. A trolley rumbled past, its wheels grinding against the tracks. Lowell finally exhaled sharply and turning back to her he spoke, his voice low and measured. "Anna."

  She tensed, her bread frozen halfway to her mouth. Her green eyes flicked to him, suddenly wary. "Yes?"

  "You're half-elw, right? From your mother's side?"

  "Obviously." Her response came too quickly, too defensive.

  "Are you capable of opening a schism?"

  Anna's face went perfectly still. Her hand lowered slowly, the bread forgotten. For a long moment, she didn't respond. Lowell could see her mind working, calculating, deciding whether to lie or to tell the truth. Finally, her shoulders sagged, and she let out a quiet sigh. "Yes," she admitted, her tone clipped but steady. "I am."

  The admission hung between them like a blade. Lowell felt his pulse quicken.

  "Just like Helena Oxford," Anna continued, her gaze dropping to her lap.

  Lowell leaned back slightly, his gaze hardening as the implications settled over him. "So you could have."

  "No," Anna cut him off sharply, meeting his gaze with a fierceness that startled him. "I didn't. And I wouldn't." She sat up straighter, her hands gripping the edge of the bench as if grounding herself. "Lowell Brandt, I understand why you might think that, but I swear to you, I had nothing to do with what happened the other day. When I heard about the schism, about the nightmare..." She trailed off, her voice softening, tinged with something Lowell couldn't quite place. "I was worried."

  Lowell's brow furrowed. "Worried? Why?"

  Anna flushed, her ears twitching as she avoided his gaze. "No reason."

  Lowell didn't press further, though he noted the shift in her tone. Something about her reaction didn't sit right with him, but for now, he let it drop. Anna Fa'rina Yuhta was a question mark, and Lowell wasn't the type to take things at face value.

  Anna cleared her throat, breaking the silence that had grown between them. "Warden Theander's reports say the nightmare's been tracked to the outskirts of Runis."

  "Runis?" he echoed, his voice darkening. "Most of the teams have already heard the endurance run is routed through there. Do the proctors know?"

  Anna nodded. "Yes. And no, before you ask, Klein has nothing to do with it. He was surprised when he heard the news. Though..." Her lips curved into a faint smile. "He seems... intrigued by the idea of another encounter between you and the nightmare."

  Lowell's scowl deepened. "He thinks this is a game?"

  "To him, everything is a game," Anna replied, her voice trailing off as she finished the last bite of her melon bread with a satisfied sigh.

  #

  The guild hall loomed ahead as Lowell and Anna made their way back. When they reached the steps, a familiar figure was descending toward them. Anzai, his gear slung over his shoulder, stopped abruptly when he saw Lowell. He hesitated, then walked up to him.

  "You look like you're quitting," Lowell said, half-joking, though his tone carried a note of concern.

  "I have," Anzai admitted, his voice steady. "I've withdrawn from the qualifiers. I'm done with Weston."

  Lowell blinked, surprised. "But why? Weston's doing well. You're practically guaranteed to qualify."

  Anzai shook his head. "I don't agree with what Aleksie is doing. He's taking things too far." His voice grew heavier. "And I won't be a part of it."

  "Why don't you speak up?" Lowell pressed.

  Anzai looked away. "Because I understand his motives. He'll do anything to win, to enter the Acadethalon. Who am I to take that from him?" He hesitated. "But it'll be a hollow victory. I've told him as much."

  "Do you think the proctors know?" Lowell asked.

  "I believe so," Anzai said, bitterness in his voice. "But they're turning a blind eye. Incentives, maybe—greed, corruption? Who knows?" He glanced at Anna. "Though, I wouldn't be surprised if Klein Cambridge is involved, one way or another."

  Lowell's gaze flicked to Anna, who shrunk back slightly under the weight of the implication. "We'll be careful," Lowell said firmly, his voice resolute.

  "Good luck," Anzai said, offering a genuine smile. "I'd have liked to compete with you on equal footing. Maybe someday."

  "Maybe as allies," Lowell replied, and for the first time, Anzai chuckled, waving as he walked away.

  #

  Conquest was the last event of the morning, and for Cross Company, their final shot at redemption before the endurance run.

  The match began with chaos, as expected. Teams collided in the center arena, swords clashing, magic flaring. Lowell fought his way through the fray, Rina at his side, her daggers finding their marks while Bart stayed back, building defenses around their icon. Without Anzai, Weston was down a crucial fighter. Their cohesion was off. Aleksie compensated by being more aggressive, over-extending his reach.

  Lowell saw the opening immediately. Aleksie broke through their line with a feint, his team pushing hard behind him, and for a moment Cross Company's defenses crumbled. But Rina reacted faster than anyone. She saw Aleksie committing, pivoted, and threw herself into his path. Lowell caught the brief look in her eyes. She wasn't just blocking him. She was giving Lowell a window.

  Lowell didn't hesitate. While Rina held Aleksie's attention, Lowell drove forward. Bart's traps bought him precious seconds as he cut through Weston's back line. Then he was at their icon. One clean strike, and the match was over.

  Cross Company had won.

  With the other competitions done for the morning, the match between Weston and Orus Guild Academies had drawn an audience. The other teams were aware of the burgeoning rivalry between the two schools and when the proctors announced Cross Company as the victors, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Lowell allowed himself a rare grin as he glanced at his teammates. Bart was cheering, and Rina looked smugly satisfied. The win was more than just points. It was a moment of vindication against Weston.

  As the rankings updated ahead of the endurance run, Cross Company's spirits were lifted. They weren't out yet, not by a long shot. For the first time in days, hope felt tangible.

  But as Lowell watched his teammates celebrate, Anna's words echoed in his mind. The nightmare had been tracked to Runis. The endurance run would take them through Runis. That couldn't be coincidence.

  They'd have to be prepared for anything.