Part One
HARUKI
Fenwick Pitch, Bealnora School of Magecraft, Londaria
I glance up and down the line of other hopefuls assembled along with me and Tegan on the mist-drenched pitch.
“Do you think we’ll actually have a shot this season?”
“Me, definitely. You…” My cousin looks me over. “You’ll be lucky to make alternates.”
“Hey, I’m not that terrible!” I object, whacking my cousin with my padded chtypáo helm as she jumps away, laughing.
“Alright, listen up!” the captain of the Bealnora Hippogryphs announces suddenly with a clap of his hands that rings out like thunder, and our attention darts in his direction.
“There are only a few spots available on the team this year. And that includes alternates.”
“Seriously?” someone comments under their breath beside us.
“Now, to get one of these coveted spots on the Hippogryphs, my vice captain here has devised a challenge for you all. To assess your potential and strengths.”
Kolby Fenwick gestures to his cousin. “Felix, if you’ll do the honors?”
Felix Bristow adjusts his goggles as he steps forward. “With pleasure.”
He looks over the lot of us with an assessing eye before continuing. “To obtain a spot on the team, you must…” Bristow trails off as something beyond catches his eye.
I turn to look, along with most of the other hopefuls.
A graceful figure stalks across the grassy pitch, emerging from the mist like a dream. Their frame so slight and willowy it’s unclear whether they’re a lad or lady. And the fact that they’re wearing an athletic tunic that’s clearly several sizes too large to the point it resembles the girl’s uniform dress doesn’t help clarify the matter. Or that they’ve already concealed their face beneath their helm’s visor.
My brows arch upward as I take it all in. Though their tunic looks like some hand-me-down travesty, their helm and Winged Boots of the Hippogryph especially had to cost some serious coinage.
“Like—like I was saying,” Vice Captain Bristow continues, “you must either score five strikes in five minutes against the current team. Or prevent the team from scoring five strikes for five minutes.”
“Now, who wants to go first?” Captain Fenwick asks with a wicked smile.
The silence that follows is deafening.
Five minutes? We have to hold them off for five whole minutes? Are they insane?!
The captain’s gaze scans across us. “Really, none of you are willing to—? Oh, it seems we do have a volunteer.”
I turn, and sure enough, it’s the mystery mage in the helm.
“And what position are you trying for?” Vice Captain Bristow asks, looking up from his clipboard.
“Vanguard,” they answer, their voice soft and on the cusp of sounding the vaguest bit familiar. But also still giving no hint to their gender.
And it’s then the whispers start up to my left and beyond. Because those who go out for Vanguard are usually much…bigger. They’re the sort who could snap this mage like a twig if I’m being perfectly honest.
Still, the vice captain makes no comment about their stature.
“Very well. If you can score five strikes in five minutes against the five of us, then you are guaranteed a spot on the team.”
“On the main team?” the mystery mage questions.
“Absolutely.”
“Cunning” ExSpelled © 2025 by Kat Vancil
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