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Shades of black attack my senses as a haze of darkness shrouds my peripheral vision. Xaden. Shadows leap up from the crevices in the corners of the room they seem to have been occupying, awaiting an order from their commander, who saunters up from his army of shadows to stand by my side by the mats, absently flicking a piece of lint off his flight jacket as though he had not a care in the world. His impossibly bored, arrogant demeanor would likely agitate a lesser rider, but knowing that beneath that very mask lies a caring, kind, irresistibly charming man, who loves me more than his next breath, lifts my heart from the trenches of my stomach.
His steady presence grounds me to the increasingly pulse-scattering moment, tethering me to a reality of him, me, and the hoard of venin I am currently facing in the stone structured amphitheater at Basgaith. Although I am aware that this situation is one of many "practice scenarios” that will be conducted throughout the next month in Professor Carr’s signet wielding class, the information does nothing to lessen the threat of the three venin currently occupying the other side of the massive drained stone pit making up the amphitheater. Since our return to Basgaith, following the truth about the threat that are venin coming out, leadership has been insistent on preparing each and every cadet, at least those of us that are still alive anyways, for their almost certain demise.
Leadership has justified keeping them in similarly drained cells and releasing them upon cadets to aid in providing “practice” for the real world scenarios that will eventually ensue in the duration of this war. So far, we’ve lost four cadets to the red-veined abominations facing me. I look across the vast arena to their menacingly looming forms. Their purple robes still billow behind them, though they have been stripped of any poisonous daggers they may have obtained prior to being held captive at Basgaith.
Although I have faced many opponents in the sparring pit of the amphitheater like this before, the situation's eerie resemblance to that fateful battle in Resson in which we lost two riders, does nothing to calm my nerves. Unlike in Resson, Xaden cannot help me today. No one can, despite the near perfect attendance of leadership seated in the top right section of the amphitheater, no doubt appraising each cadet and noting strengths, or weaknesses, in each to be exploited to their own defense in our next battle. I stand awaiting my turn on the mat closest to the stony training grounds, watching intently at the cadet currently getting pummeled by one of the red-veined monsters. Her weakened, bloody body throws a meek punch that the venin easily deflects before striking her once again, beating her into submission.
“Enough.” Pancheck raises his palm at Carr from his perch at the top of the amphitheater, “We have seen enough.”
Carr snaps his fingers and the venin freezes midair, allowing the bloody, bruised cadet to crawl off the mat, looking as if she were within an inch of their life. A third-year next to me, likely the cadets friend, drags her from the mats and helps her stand, swaying slightly from the weight of her. Blood oozes behind them in a trail of crimson as they likely make their way to Nolon, hoping to mend her before the next of these sessions. I share a look with Xaden then, and without using our bonds, I somehow know what he has to say, it is the very same thing that I am thinking. They cannot last much longer like this. And then, the harder truth to swallow, that they are not at all prepared for the horrors beyond the border. I was not prepared. I barely made it out Resson alive, and if it weren’t for Xaden and my brother, who I thought was dead up until a week ago, I would not have made it. I think then, that even though the atrocities of that battle have scarred me in ways that are more than physical, and are a root of more than a few nightmares, I am grateful at least in some part for the experience, for the knowledge of knowing the extent of what we are up against in the coming war. Though I would trade a lifetime of this knowledge if it meant Liam were alive. My heart twists as I recognize a pang of misery that always follows thoughts of Liam. He was the strongest of our year. If he did not make it out of that battle alive, what chance do the rest of us have? Xaden squeezes my hand as Carr looks up at me from his clipboard and signals for me to step onto the mat. Xaden turns to me then and whispers so only I can hear,
“You ready Violence? Remember who you are and live up to your nickname."
“Easier said than done. The last time I went up against these monsters I barely survived.”
“But you did. You did survive. And that's what you are going to do right now. Survive. No matter what. And I’ll be waiting right here for you when you kick their asses.” He offers me an encouraging smile and I can’t help but force a smile right back at the pure, unadulterated faith in his expression. If anyone believes in me, it's Xaden Riorson.
“I know you will,” I say with a tilt of my lips, as I press up on my toes and press a kiss to his cheek. With one last longing look, I let go of his hand. We have already lost four riders, and I am determined not to be the fifth. I will not die today. With that thought in mind, I step off the mat and onto the arena, where the current threat to my life awaits to be extinguished.
The malicious looking venin farthest from me leers at my approaching form, the smile cracking his already chapped lips and making the veins spiderwebbed across his temples throb a terribly scarlet shade of red. The color of blood, I realize. And it's about to be mine if I do not focus. I shake my head violently and take my next step toward my impending death. Not death, I chide myself. Just almost certain doom.
“That's the spirit.” Tairn notes with a heavy dose of sarcasm from inside the vortex of my thoughts.
“If you were about to face off a bunch of evil looking myths, or so I thought they were up until last month, you would be more than a little nervous too.”
“I hope you are kidding. Nerves are for the weak. And you apparently. Do not disappoint me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it”, I fight the urge to roll my eyes, “Now stop distracting me”. I slam down my shields and let the sparring ensue.
I chance a glance to my right and see eight pairs of eyes, all of which belong to leadership, peering down on me, more than a hint of curiosity present in their gazes, and surprisingly, a bit of expectancy too. No doubt this class has provided them with sufficient entertainment, regardless of the casualties. But I hadn’t noticed this curious intensity in their gazes to the cadets preceding me. No, this intensity is reserved for me. Violet Sorrengail, General Sorrengial’s daughter, Lightning Wielder. I can only imagine the stories they have heard about me. I recall Tairn’s words to not disappoint, and steel my expression, whipping my gaze back to my current opposition.
I let a trickle of power flood my veins, cracking ajar the door to my archives and filling every bone in my body with that undeniable heady feel of power. I flick my wrist upwards to test out my powers and a subsequent bolt of lightning streaks the open sky above the arena, lighting up the inky black night with a brilliant shade of light so bright white it appears blue.
“Well if it isn’t the elusive lightning wielder. I have heard a great deal about you, but have yet to hold the honor of seeing you command the sky in person.” The venin remarks with a casual smirk, appraising the streak of lighting overlooking the amphitheater.
I grip my conduit and counter with a smirk of my own. I’ll show him the honor. I loosen my fist at my side and swing my palm up and out towards the venin beside him, releasing a crackle of lightning from my hold on Tairn's power, and guiding the strike down towards my target with my middle finger. True to my aim, it strikes him right in the chest and the venin stumbles backwards, desiccating towards the stony ground it occupied but not a second before.
“Oh, how I hope I did not disappoint.” I retort with equal measures of sarcasm and pride. I did it! I hit him, my aim was true! Ha, take that Felix. He had been pressuring me about correctly aiming my bolts for the past month, and it is not above me to appreciate the fruits of the efforts I have been striving towards with a great deal of time and hard work for the past few weeks, even in the midst of a battle.
“And what great power indeed…” He notes thoughtfully, almost solemnly, his face turned towards the spot in the pavement his brother stood in a moment before. The remaining venin share a look then turn towards me with a sneer before charging at me all at once.
The venin closest to me lifts his wrist, as if to pluck me off the ground, but before he gets a chance, I fling my alloy-hilted dagger at him, striking him in the jugular. Two for two. Not bad Sorrengail, I think, as the other venin spares a glance at his friend's desiccating form before turning back to me with a glare so menacing it almost resembles Xaden. Almost. He takes a single step towards me and I lift my dagger once more, hoping to strike him in the throat. The venin curls his lip before snapping his wrist in a circular motion, and the blade that was once aimed towards his esophagus promptly changes courses, circling around and flying towards me. I jerk out of the blade's way, diving for the stone at my feet, and land in a rolling summersault.
“Come now, you didn’t think you could take me out that easily did you?” He lifts one side of his mouth in contempt, nostrils flaring.
“I don’t know, it worked pretty well with your friends,” I say, motioning to the two desiccating bodies of venin lying lifelessly beside him.
I swear I feel the embodiment of a smirk, and a flash of pride, from Xaden through our mental bond, though he does not dare form words to distract me from my opponent.
The venin facing me glowers at me with an animosity that rivals my own, looking at me with what I can only describe as the pure loathing and disgust that is likely reflected on my face. I lift my wrist skywards and pull on a bolt of lightning from the power now flooding my body in response to my overwhelming feelings of hatred. The bolt strikes the ground next to the venin with a loud crackle and a bright flash of white-blue light.
“Missed me,” he sneers, a hint of a smirk plastered on his face.
I try again, this time concentrating on the flow of power in my veins, carefully guiding it to my target. The venin zips out of the way in that unnaturally fast way they can, narrowly avoiding my strike of lightning again.
“Missed me again,” He says, this time not bothering to hide his smirk.
The action only irritates me further and I feel my frustration grow to a boiling point as my hand twitches with unspent power.
“Control yourself Violence, you can’t fight angry” I hear Xaden’s soothing timbre echo throughout my head as I attempt to ground myself once more. His voice is a welcome distraction and for once, I am grateful that he has this overpowering ability to consume my thoughts. In fact, his very presence in my mind seems to sooth the hatred curdling in my soul that was seething for the venin facing me just a moment ago. Right. Control myself. I can do that, I think. I relax my fingers and tighten my hold on the conduit.
If I cannot beat him with speed, then I will have to resort to the strength of my mind. After all, physical strength isn’t the only strength needed to defeat an opponent. I recall Mira’s words relayed during a session in which she attempted to teach me to spar, better at least. After a couple dozen failed attempts at taking her down, she finally told me that my best weapon was not my fists, but my mind. To always pay attention to my surroundings and work with what I have. To never, above all else, doubt the strength of my own mind. The last round we went, I made sure to pay close attention to where we were fighting. I noticed the worn out mat under our feet, its depth and material, and more specifically, the ease in which one could slice through such a mat and get their extremities trapped. And that's exactly what I did. When she launched forward to attack me that last time, I did not lift my dagger to her throat, but to the mat, slicing just below her leading foot, and watching as she unknowingly trapped her foot beneath the thick foam material of the mat. From there, I could easily take her down, seeing as her balance was off and she was not in control of all her parts.
If I cannot beat him with physical strength, then I must outsmart him. For the first time, I take notice of our surroundings with deliberation, noting every crack and fissure in the stone ground we stand upon. I note that he cannot channel from the earth as the stone is already drained, courtesy of the land from the Barrens I am assuming, so at least I have no need to run in that retrospect. I also note the light puddle of water pooled in a crater in the stone, likely from the rainstorm we experienced last night. Interesting. I examine the particular anomaly, noting the depth of the water and its distance from my opponent. If he were to back up a few steps, his left foot would sink into the shallow depth of the puddle. I feel a plan begin to formulate in my mind, a feeling almost as heady as the power that slinks into my fingertips. It is not a particularly steady plan, but it is a plan nonetheless and so I shall treat it with all the merit that entails. In other words: it's worth a shot.
There are a lot of strengths I do not possess, but pissing people off is definitely one of them. For once, I am grateful for my impractical ability to rile people up, because it makes what I am about to do that much easier.
“So I missed a shot. Big deal. I, unlike you, have the privilege of leaving this arena and practicing. But not you though.” I note an edge of his mouth tilting downwards into a scowl and do not miss the way his hands clench at his side. I take a few steps closer and continue, causing him to back up an inch. “No, you don’t get to leave here. Ever. How does it feel to be trapped? For all the power you claim to possess, I suppose you don’t possess the brain to get out of here huh?”
Now he full on scowls and my face breaking out into a shit-eating grin only seems to rile him up more. He lunges towards me, but I spin around and dodge his advance. I inch closer to the puddle and watch as he lunges again, this time stepping into the liquid occupying the crater. He does not seem to notice, and continues to advance towards me, pure malice in his expression. I do not doubt he will kill me if I do not do so first. I remember Felix telling me about the electrocurrents that line my energy. It is the same reason my lighting is magnetized to wyvern and venin, as it did during the battle at Resson. I had previously thought that it was luck guiding my aim. Not luck, he explained, but science. My power is automatically attracted to any form of electricity conducted, whether it be a wyvern carcass or, in this case, a liquid. It is with this knowledge that I aim a bolt at the puddle of water he has one foot sunk into. He jumps out of the way and bears a devilish grin as he looks up at me from where he now stands directly beside the puddle.
“You missed again,” he sneers gleefully.
“Did I?”
I watch as the electricity from the bolt kindles in the puddle, and then, without any warning, snakes up his unsuspecting form, catching on to all the places the liquid touched his foot. He shrieks and begins to twitch violently. I can’t help the slow smile that grows on my face as I watch my opponent be electroducted. I retrieve my last alloy hilted dagger and approach his paralyzed form, taking my time and enjoying his helplessness. Then I make sure to look him in the eye as I plunge the tip of the dagger right into his heart. He wails one last time before he dedicates like the rest of his posey. Gods it feels good to win.
I hear the distant sound of applause from my perch on the mat, and as I look around, I note that it is in response to my victory. Cadets of all wings look at each other in astonishment, while Carr writes furiously into his clipboard. Leadership murmurs among each other, casting fascinated looks down at me every once in a while. I spot the rest of my squad out of the corner of my eye, all beaming with pride, and celebrating with a fierce vehemence I know is reserved for our squad. The iron squad. Looks like Xaden’s nickname isn’t the only one i’m living up to tonight. Xaden. I swing my head around wildly, hoping to find him amongst the crowd that has gathered near the mats. When I do finally find him, leaning against the wall next to Garrick and Bodhi, I can’t help the smile that plasters itself on my face. He is looking at me with so much love in his eyes I can hardly take it. His eyes crease around the corners as they flare with pride. A corner of his mouth is tipped up in that beautiful smile he reserves only for me, and I have to fight the urge to run into his arms and kiss the shit out of him right then and there.
“Hows that for living up to my nickname?” I tease, enjoying the smile that plays at his lips in response to my use of our bond.
“I f---cking love you, Violet. No nickname in the world could ever live up to the perfection that is you.” His gaze heats with intensity and I feel my heart burst out of my chest at his confession.
“Not even ‘yours’? Because I think that is my favorite one yet.”
His eyes soften then and he looks at me like I am his piece of the heaven he is so sure he will never see. To anyone else, he might appear cruel and callous, ruthlessness a second skin to his flawless exterior. But I know. I know that he always knows what to say to make me believe in myself like he unrelentingly does, that he has always had more faith in me than anyone I have ever known, even when everyone knew me as the fragile girl that barely made it past Parapet, and even when I fail, especially when I fail. I know that I will never love any man like I do him, that I will always love him, that I could not be Violence, without Xaden. He is the one for me, in this lifetime and the next. I do not want to live to see a world in which he is not mine and I am not his. So if he will not see any piece of heaven, then I will contently meet Malek at his side, hand-in-hand, for my love is eternal. Endless, I think as I stare back into those depthless onyx eyes, an endless abyss filled with the devotion he feels for me, that same devotion that is reflected in my very own. Endless.