The Ascendant Ritual

The air was electric with anticipation as Lyra stood among her fellow Water Elementals, the roar of the crowd echoing through the grand amphitheater. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the faces around her, many of whom she had trained with, and some she had bested back in Marisdeep regarding smaller skirmishes. But today was different. Today was the Water Trial, and only the strongest would get the title of Master Water Elemental.

Finally, the signal was given, and the amphitheater morphed into a vast, chaotic battlefield. The pool of water at her feet surged and swirls, platforms rising and falling unpredictably. The battle was a free-for-all, with every Water Elemental fighting to be the last one standing.

Lyra's eyes narrowed in focus as she summoned her powers. Water obeyed her command, swirling around her in a protective barrier. She moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior, even though deep, deep down-- she wanted to cry. Lyra was a healer. She was gentle. And sensitive. She's never hurt anyone, especially those that she'd most likely come across in her Marisdeep. Sure, they'd had a couple playful battles here and there, but nothing like this. Nothing so... detrimental.

Waved crashed and currents twisted around her. Jets of water shot across the arena as combatants clashed in a dazzling display of power.

She spotted Selene, a formidable opponent, battling nearby. Selene's movements were swift and calculated, her control over water impeccable. Lyra felt a pang of hesitation. She remembered training with Selene; their shared laugher. But now, they were enemies, and only one could emerge victorious.

Steeling herself, Lyra created a powerful current, knocking another elemental off balance and into the depths below. The crowd roared in approval, but Lyra remained focused. There was no time for celebration-- all that mattered was winning. She had so much to prove. She wanted to provide for her family, to prove that she wasn't as weak as most people thought. With renewed determination, Lyra moved through the chaos, her eyes locked on Selene. She summoned a vortex, sending it towards her, but Selene countered with a wave, the clash sending sprays of water into the air. The two forces collided, and Lyra felt the force of Selene's power pushing against her own.

The arena was a whirlwind of motion and noise. Elementals fell one by one, the pool at their feet becoming a battleground of swirling currents and powerful waves. Lyra's heart pounded in her chest as she fought. Harder, Harder, Lyra. Push yourself. Push harder. She could feet the exhaustion creeping in, but she pushed it aside. There was no room for weakness.

Selene advanced. Lyra knew this would be the deciding moment. She gathered her strength, focusing all her energy on one final attack. With a cry, she unleashed a torrent of water, a massive wave that surged towards Selene with unstoppable force. Selene's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't falter. She braced herself, summoning all her power to counter the wave. The class was titanic, the force of their powers creating a large waterspout that whipped the arena into a frenzy. Lyra's muscles strained and her mind screamed.

The crowd's cheers were deafening, but in that moment, Lyra heard nothing but her own heartbeat. She thought of her family, of their faces filled with pride. She thought of the people who had doubted her, who had called her weak in the first place. Tears mingled with the spray of water on her face as she pushed harder.

Finally, Selene's defense broke and Lyra sent another wave her way. The wave crashed over Selene, but she fought back with equal ferocity. Lyra's vision blurred with exhaustion and emotion. She could see the strain on Selene's face, but there was also a mixture of betrayal. They were both fighting for something greater than themselves, something that went beyond the title of Master.

With a final, desperate push, Lyra poured every once of her strength into another wave. It surged forward, overwhelming Selene's defenses. The force of it knocked Selene off her feet, sending her crashing into the depths below.

Lyra stood trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The crowds cheers were a distant roar in her ears as she watched Selene struggle to rise, only to be swept away by the current. Victory was hers, but the weight of it was unbearable. She had won, but at what cost?

What did I do? What the hell did I do? She gasped. Selene was her friend, and Lyra knew Selene wanted this more than anything. They'd talked about it; confided in eachother. And now, Lyra was to return home and face Selene again, only to be looked at as a traitor in their friendship. She glanced around herself, realizing that she was the only one left on a pedestal.

Tears streamed down her face as she raised her arms in victory. The arena shifted back. The crowd's cheers echoed throughout the amphitheater. She had done it. She had become the Master water Elemental. But in that moment, as she stood alone on the stage, Lyra had a strange intuition that this victory was just the beginning.

High atop the peaks of The Dragon's Roost lay the bones of an ancient civilization, one that existed long before the time of the Masters. Master Javarco imagined, during that time, that the peaks of the Dragon's Roost were young, new to the world, and full of vibrant and green life that the dragons of old reigned over with a just eye. The stone and earth and dust of today's world had not been weathered in that time; giant trees dotted the horizon and reached up to greet the sun every morning as it passed into the sky. But, the trees could not reach as high into the sky, rooted into the earth as they were, like those that could fly, like the dragons. The dragons ruled over the skies, the land. They ruled all. But, if there was one thing the Masters could learn from the dragons that preceded them, it was that all rules would one day come to an end.

And so, with that piece of logic heavy on his mind, Javarco stood in the ruins of the past as he tackled with the future. He walked through the empty halls of The Dragon's Roost, his boots clacking and echoing off the granite walls and into the open skies. His bent frame passed by column after column, and these days he barely felt the wind of the sky moving through the halls. The entire place was built to be open to the skies, either as an homage to the dragons before or perhaps there was a time where dragons and the masters of old lived together.

Not anymore. All that was left in these halls were the dead and the decrepit, whose time had come and gone. Master Javarco himself felt closer to the dead than the living at this point. It had become high time for him to give himself to the bones of this place, and begrudgingly relieve himself of the position as the Fire Master.

But, he knew exactly who would vie for that power.

Master Javarco heaved his way through a tall wooden door, ignoring the loud groans of protest by being opened. Doors were of little use in a place like this; the doors were nothing but a mere formality. There were no secrets in this place; no meetings that took place in these halls. They had been long vacated at this point. Everyone prepared for the spectacle. Everyone busied their little non-important bodies with endless tasks in the coming days. The only bones that walked these halls today were those who were about to be replaced: the Old Masters of the four elements of Vestralia.

Javarco mumbled to himself as he scurried to the Grand Observatory. No words escaped his mouth, just endless little utters of sound. It was a bad habit he had picked up in the last decade, but it helped him think straight when his mind was too busy for him to sort his thoughts. These days, that was becoming more and more common.

Master Javarco had both the pleasure and the burden of handling the brunt of the planning for the most impactful Ascendant Ritual in the history of the Masters. Never had this happened in any of the archives of the old Masters and, while Javarco had not read every single journal, text, or scroll in the massive library of The Dragon's Roost, he had read many.

Never before had all four Masters planned their retirement at the same time. But, now they were, for whatever reason they all had. Javarco knew of at least one of the Master's reasoning for retiring, but he didn't really care to learn everyone else's. He had his own issues to deal with, including how to carefully deal with his own successor and trial. But, unlike the other three Masters, Javarco had no choice but to think about the big picture.

And so he entered the Grand Observatory, where the other three Masters sat waiting, with a plan.

Ron was born knowing that the title of Air Master was destined to be his.

It was a Harrison Bush legacy. A torch passed from father to son. The only reason he wasn't Master already was he had to do the stupid tournament. But that didn't matter. He was the best fighter around. No one could ever beat him.

He stood on his disc as it slowly rose, taking him to his destiny. There were over a dozen fellow air elementals, all inferior, on similar platforms. As he passed the bold red line that marked out of bounds, he could feel his nerves steady. He was born to do this. He was born to win.

The platforms suddenly stopped, almost making him lose his balance. Before he could fully recover, the air horn sounded. His enemies rose to the air as their platforms plummeted, knives and hands at the ready.

Ron jumped into the air as the telltale creak of his platform warned him. The breeze rushed to meet him, wrapping around him. Someone screamed, falling beyond the red line. One less enemy. One step closer to victory.

Landon rushed up to meet him. "Hey! Are you ready? I take out half, you take out the other half. Whoever takes out less forfeits?"

What a fool. I can't believe he expected my help with these imbeciles. Ron smiled and held his shoulder. "Of course, Landon."

Landon grinned. "Perfe-" He let out a small choking noise.

He looked down to find Ron's dagger in his hip.

"No hard feelings, man. But this is my birthright." Ron let go of him and watched as Landon fell out of bounds. "Buh-bye!" He waved.

Who next? He scanned the crowd. Most people had broken off into groups, either in a childish attempt to maintain a team or friendship or whatever the weak were calling it these days. The air was filled with grunts and the whistles of flying weapons.

Ron crossed his legs and settled himself into an almost sitting position. He summoned a few knives and laid them across his lap as he scanned the crowd.

A man had his back to Ron, kicking his opponent in the face. What a joke. Ron picked up a knife and sent it straight to his back. The man screamed and dragged his opponent down with him. Two down.

A girl--honestly why were shes allowed in here?-- was in a heated knife fight with a man much bigger than her. Honestly, why did she even bother? Ron sent two knives, one for the girl's ankle and the other for the man's knee. They both fell. Good riddance.

There was a- the wind was knocked out his chest. What in the?

Ron turned just in time for a knife to slash across his cheek. His eyes watered, but he gritted his teeth.

His opponent was a young boy, eyes wild.

Ron rushed back. "Hey! No face shots during the tournament! My dad made those rules."

The boy sneered. "I was aiming for your shoulder. You're the one who turned around!" He rushed for Ron, another knife in his hands.

Ron couldn't freeze. He couldn't let this boy win. He dove beneath his bare feet. They were crusted with dirt and he didn't want to know what else. Who let this feral sewer rat into his tournament? His birth right? Was his son going to compete against gutter trash like this?

He grabbed the boy by the waist. "This is my kingdom! You're not welcome in it!"

The boy kicked and thrashed, but it wasn't long before Ron grabbed his foot, twisting it back so it rested against his forearm. The boy screamed, but this was the least of his worries.

Ron's blades were sharp, but not sharp enough to cut through bone. It took a few passes for the blade to make it through, leaving the boy's ankle a bloody stump. The boy was pale and shaking as Ron let him fall.

"Now I have peasant blood all over me." Ron took out a rag wiped his bloody hands and dropped it. Father would get him a new one. He turned his attention back to the field. Most of the herd was thinned out. Only two people remained fighting it out. I guess no one wanted to be the one to mess with me.

"Hey, ladies!"

The two fighters, both men as it should be, turned to him. Ron threw his last two knives, hitting a shoulder and a forearm. They both fell to the ground.

The crowd cheered as Ron did his victory lap. The title was his! As all things should be. Once people started going home, he landed on the platform. He needed to find Father. He must've loved Ron's performance.

"Excuse me?"

He turned around. A girl with white hair and a sad excuse for a ballgown held out a white handkerchief."You dropped this."

Ron grimaced at seeing the familiar bloodstains. "That was on purpose, stupid girl! You have no right to question your new master!"

The girl just tossed it to the floor then. "Alright. I suppose I'll be seeing you around then. Master." She took to the skies before Ron could get a word in.

"Hormonal bitch. She's probably on her period." He rolled his eyes and walked to Father's viewing booth. It didn't matter what low-lives thought. Everything was perfect.

Dhara sat on her platform, legs criss-crossed, hands on the ground, and she watched all the other competitors doing the same. The arena buzzed with energy, screams, and bloodlust--but that was from the stands. The participants all sat still, stony, each with serious eyes. Some of them were yearning for it so badly they'd be willing to do whatever it took, but that wasn't the same as bloodlust, and Dhara knew there was no way a pupil would have made it this far in earthbending if they did feel that way. The stubbornness of the rock and soil, the lifeforce of the plants--there was no way you could manipulate it with the express intent of wanting more people dead. Well, there was, but that wasn't what Master Desroches taught, and everyone knew he wasn't above rigging the entrance exams so only the truly worthy made it this far.

Dhara had made it this far.

She almost felt guilty for fighting teenagers and newly-grown adults, knowing they had next to no chance. Almost. It wasn't a matter of cockiness either, because Dhara held a great deal of distain towards benders who carried themselves like they were superior to everyone around them. It was more due to the fact that she knew she was going to do everything in her power to earn the title of Earth Master, fair and square, and because of that, nobody else really had a chance. She'd been working with Master Desroches for years to better her bending. Hell, part of the agreement for her to study under him was that she would, in turn, teach some of the younger pupils. Some of these people were her students. That wasn't going to stop her though, because she knew it wasn't going to stop any of them. None of them were giving this win over easily.

She couldn't remember why the rules stipulated that Earth benders, specifically, must begin sitting. It was probably because otherwise, they could bend underneath the surface before the time started, in hopes of getting an advantage. In a seated position, it was much more difficult to bend without it being noticable. Dhara glanced over at the crowd, already growing restless. She was sure they were in for some sort of show, but probably not the one they wanted. Tickets to the other elements sold a lot faster, and at much higher prices. Earth bending tickets were the ones you bought when someone said, "I want to witness history!" and you didn't have enough money to get into the Fire arena. If you wanted to see some good old-fashioned blood-spilling, the Earth bending event definitely wasn't the place to do it.

None of the benders were technically supposed to be doing a lot of blood-spilling, actually, but with the Air Master's son competing and the Fire elementals being--well, Fire elementals, it wasn't a surprise that the Master Trials were usually known for becoming bloody. Earth elementals were actually the ones who had the most restrictions on them in a fight like this because if you burn your opponent's face, you burn their face, but if you smash it in with a rock, well--they're probably not walking away from it.

Subtlety. Not exactly what Earth benders were known for, but it was expected nonetheless. Grace. Not really what people thought of when they thought of people throwing around rocks. It was what Dhara expected of herself and her students though, just as it was what Master Desroches expected from his students. The name of the game was to knock people out of the inner circle, marked by the deep ditch dug around it, currently filled with water. If you went in the water, even if you tripped in and fell yourself, you were out.

Dhara took a deep breath, then looked up at the sky, to the air elemental who would be refereeing. She watched as he formed a cloud, then pulled a piece away from it. Three. Another piece. Two. Another piece. One. The cloud evaporated. Showtime. Everything erupted into chaos.

She climbed to her feet, watching others do the same. Some people's strategy would be to get to the center, go somewhere where it would be more difficult to knock them off--even as she thought about the possibility, three people rushed towards the middle at once. She recognized them as her students, who were friends, and also far too immature to help run the country. Without hesitation, Dhara lifted her hand. A wall of stone erupted from the ground, flat and straight like a wall. She shoved it towards them, and all three went sliding off the edge.

"And that marks the beginning!" An announcer called out. "Three outs by Dhara Minemire, as she marks herself as a definite competitor for the title of Earth Master. Oh, and right away, Gem Lazulite, starting towards her!"

Dhara turned and dropped the stone underneath her five feet, narrowly avoiding the hardened pack of dirt flying towards her.

"And Gem barely misses!" The announcer crooned. "You've got to feel a little sting at that, especially when you're Miss Lazulite, who has been training in dirt specialization for years!"

Dhara pulled the stone up again, bringing herself back to the surface then started towards Gem. Gem took several steps backwards, and Dhara took advantage of her unsureness, pulling the dirt under Gem's feet into a landslide. She tumbled over the edge into the water. She could hear the announcer talking, discussing the other competitors, but she couldn't let herself be distracted.

How many had they started out with? Thirty? And now there were only five left. Somehow, in the small time she'd been distracted, the rest had all taken a plunge. This didn't feel like a game of skill; it felt more like a game of luck. If you were lucky enough to look in the right direction at the right time, lucky enough to feel the vibrations--

Dhara leapt forward towards the center as an entire fourth of the dirt-packed floor crumbled away and slid into the water. Antoni. She shouldn't be surprised--they'd discussed that method in class as a means of combatting trench warfare. Still, it did sting her pride a little that he thought it would work on her.

"I'm seeing some new moves on the playing field here today! Likely developed in preparation for this event, I'd imagine!" The announcer said. Dhara tried to dodge a piece of rock hurling through the air at her, but it rammed into her shoulder, and she hit the ground groaning. "Now we can't continue today without thanking MageCo, who were kind enough to sponsor this event, so that all the competitors you're seeing today will have any recovery expenses fully covered, let's give them a hand! Yeah!" The audience erupted in applause.

"You okay?" Antoni said. He stood over her, and reached a hand down towards her. "Do you forfeit?"

Dhara felt strangely touched. She knew he was being genuine, offering to help her get to the water so she was officially out without any more injuries; she wasn't sure she'd see that kind of gesture in another elemental challenge, which was partially why she was so intent on getting this position herself. The culture had to stay alive, or else she didn't know what would happen. It was going to be enough of a culture shock with all four masters changing at the same time; she had to do her part.

Which is why, when she took his hand, she said, "Sorry," and pulled him down instead of pulling herself up. He had to have known it was coming, because the next thing she knew, the dirt under both of them collapsed.

"Whoa! It's looking like a little underground action time from two of our remaining competitors! Can we get a camera down there? Is there a way to--hold on folks, look at this! WHOA!" The entire audience screamed, reacting to something Dhara and Antoni couldn't see. "They both go tumbling down!" The announcer yelled, sounding absolutely delighted. "What an unexpected ending, look at that! And suddenly, just like that, we are down to two competitors!"

Dhara didn't hesitate--she felt the patch of dirt beneath them and yanked up hard, shooting them both into the air, flailing.

"Airborn!" The announcer screamed. "They are airborn, the final two Earth Master contestants, folks!"

Underneath herself, she pulled hard to make some sort of softer landing, a dirt cradle to catch her and ease how jolting the fall was going to be. For Antoni, she pulled a block of dirt out of the ground and shoved him midair. He went flying, smacking into the ground and rolling into the water below.

The crowd went wild. "And we have a winner! Ladies and gentlemen, you now have something to tell your grandchildren, you were in the arena when Miss Dhara Minemire officially won the title of Earth Master!"

She fell.

She smacked into the dirt below, which did next to nothing to cushion the blow of the fall. She was dazed, disoriented, and her right shoulder hurt like hell. As she stood up though, the crowd cheered, and as she wiped smeared dirt off her face, she found she didn't mind the pain.

1,554 words

This was the first Ascendant Ritual those of Emberforge had been to in decades, and many did not know what to do. If only that fool of a master, Javarco, left the position when he was supposed to. So now Zakara watched from a cliff edge as the group of Master seekers loitered around, all so unsure of themselves. Zakara counted fifteen of them. A meager display of power compared to the other elements, she was sure of it. After so long, one would think oh-so important Master Javarco would have taught more potential successors. Maybe most of them had abandoned the thought of the Master because they knew who would be in attendance, and ultimately, who would win.

Zakara watched them bemusedly. Opponents. They weren't opponents. That would imply that they stood a chance. Zakara hesitated to even call them obstacles. In reality, they were taught their entire lives to believe they stood a chance, by the person leading them to their deaths. They weren't delusional, no no. They were lied to. They were lambs to the slaughter.

Javarco's imagination was always his best trait. Well, that would mean he had any redeeming qualities about him, but Zakara had to admit that this arena intrigued her. On one edge of the Dragon's Roost sat an ancient volcano, long dormant. Interestingly, this Elemental Crucible took place over this volcano, dangling several hundred feet above the crest of the volcano, with two large, metal chains that stitched to the cliff-sides of it. On one end of the volcano's lip was a balcony, which presumably led deeper into the Dragon's Roost. On that balcony stood Master Javarco as he glared down at his potential successors.

And Zakara glared down at Master Javarco. From her vantage point, she could make out his stress lines, and how his lower left eyelid tremored, betraying his calm demeanor. How fascinating it must be, watching his entire empire crumble in real time, with a live audience to cap it all off.

Zakara could just make out the charged chatter of the crowd that huddled around the edges of the volcano. Not so close that they were in any danger of falling in, of course, but close enough they would have a view of the likely bloodshed to happen. But, what overshadowed the crowd's noise was the cacophony of rumbling from far below. In a rare show of power, it looked as if Master Javarco had re-awakened the sleeping giant beneath the arena.

That was right, Javarco decided to have this Ascendant Ritual above a bubbling volcano. Zakara had to admit, the man wanted to go out in style.

Plans, plans, plans. Always scheming, that Master Javarco. Always meddling, like a little cockroach that just refused to die. Well, all good plans...

Master Javarco raised a hand, and the audience quelled their prattling. The barely more than a dozen or so participants in this part of the Elemental Crucible directed their attention to Javarco.

"Welcome, Candidates. Welcome, spectators, to this once in a lifetime Ascendant Ritual. There's quite the selection of Crucibles for you all to choose from this time, so we are, of course, thankful for you all choosing this one. Your donations will not be thrown away in the betterment of Emberforge." Oh gods, he's monologuing. Zakara wanted to stop it right then and there. She could form a fire dagger and toss it so easily. Lob it right in between his eyeballs. Send this whole dance into shambles.

"Candidates, your test is simple. Be the last one standing on this platform. Use any means necessary, but be sure to keep the bloodletting to a minimum. You are all working towards a better civilization, together. You are not just fighting for a title." Could his words possibly get any trite, Zakara thought. All rules would singe into cinders the moment the Crucible started.

"You must be fast, Candidates. The very land you stand on is not stable. You see, this hunk of rock was not meant to withstand the intense heat of a volcano. The longer the fight lasts, the... well, I would not just stand around and find out."

Master Javarco stood there, and the relative silence became noticeable.

Zakara resisted the intense temptation to roll her eyes so hard, they would get stuck in the back of her head forever. Instead, she took the opportunity that Javarco was meaning for everything to start, and launched herself off of her cliff edge. Once she was a respectable distance away, she ignited the soles of her feet and ejected herself to land right in the middle of the platform. As she dropped into a roll, she stopped her own momentum and stared up at her future job, and smirked.

Before the Meeting

Rainsong stood at the edge of the Marisdeep cliffs, the salty wind tugging at her robes and whipping her hair into a frenzied dance. The ocean below roared and crashed against the rocks. She closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of the sea.

The illness that ravaged her body was a constant, gnawing presence, but here, amidst the elements she bent, she found a fleeting peace. The water responded to her call, a swirling vortex rising from the depths to meet her outstretched hand. She let the cool liquid engulf her fingers; a reminder of the strength the water gave her.

But even as she drew power from the sea, her mind was a tempest-- visions danced before her eyes-- memories of battles fought, allies lost, and the dark whispers of her own fears. The illness had taken a toll on not only her body, but on her mind, blurring the line between reality and madness. Yet, she was clung to her duty, but not for long. She was getting sick of the title that defined her for so long.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the water, Rainsong knew it was time. The meeting in the Grand Observatory awaited her, a gathering of the Elemental Masters to discuss the Trials would shape Terralon's future. She sighed, but soon straightened as she forced herself to summon the strength that was meeting up with the others.

With a final lingering touch to the water, she turned and made her way towards the Citadel. The journey was slow, each step a reminder of her frailty, but her determination carried her forward. The path wound through lush gardens and along winding corridors, the grandeur of the Citadel a stark contrast to the wild, untamed beauty of the cliffs she loved so much. As Rainsong moved up the steps of the Grand Observatory, her eyes fixed on the imposing doors ahead. A sudden gust of wind stirred the air. She paused, sensing the shift, and looked up just in time to see a figure descending from the sky.

Ronald Harrison Bush IV, The Master of Air, floated gracefully down, his pristine white suit and dark grey tie seemingly untouched by the journey. His black loafers, polished to a gleam, landed swiftly on the stone steps.

"Rain, Rain, Song of Rain!" He opened his arms. "How did your trials go? Like who won?"

"I don't kn--"

"Yeah, yeah that's cool. My son won!" A small gust of wind spun around him, ruffling his suit jacket. "He's continuing the family legacy!"

Rainsong's expression hardened as she moved past him, her breath coming in short unsturdy gasps, "Good for him, Ronald," she muttered, "But there's more to this than just legacies, you know that right?"

"What? That's ridiculous. Legacy is all we have. Air Masters have been Harrison Bushes for four generations now." Ron held up four fingers. "And my son will be the fifth. And his son will be sixth. And if anything changes that, the title will be meaningless." He stomped his foot.

Rainsong stopped and turned to face him, "Meaningless? The title is about power and responsibility, not some family heirloom. If your son isn't the best, he shouldn't have the title, no matter how many generations have held it. I think you should prepare for that."

"But my son is the best. He won. The title is his. And the power and responsibility is Harrison Bush power and responsibility. It can be both."

Something dinged in Rainsongs core, and she suddenly started hysterically laughing. Tears poured out of her eyes, and she grabbed her head in attempt to make it stop, "Oh, Ronald, you poor deluded fool. You think this is just a game, don't you? You think your bloodline makes you invincible?" her eyes darted around them, and she tried to steady her footing, "The water tells me secrets, Ronald. Secrets about the trials, about your precious son. Do you know what it says? It says nothing is certain."

"Oh stars above, here we go again. Your water doesn't know anything. My son won fair and square and there's not a part two."

Rainsong's laughter continued, a harsh, grating sound that echoes off the stone walls, "Fair and square? The water sees everything, knows everything. It whispers to me, tells me truths even you can't fathom. Ronald, from a fellow lost soul to another, this is just the beginning. The trials will be a prelude to the true test. And I fear your precious son is woefully unprepared."

Ron threw his hands in the air. "Let's get inside brine brain. Before you mistake a bird for a missile."

Rainsong's eyes gleamed with a manic intensity as Ronald's dismissive words seemed to fuel her favor, "You just don't see it, do you? The elements are alive. They speak to me, they show me. They show me. They show me," she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, "Do you want to know what the water told me? Huh? Do ya? It showed me visions of chaos. Of betrayal. Your son may have won, but the real battle has yet to begin. It will tear you apart, you hear me? Tear you apart!"

Ron took a step back. "I am so glad you're retiring. You should not be near my son." He shook his head and walked inside.

Rainsong's laughter filled the air again, this time a harsh, discordant melody that echoed through the hallway as the door opened,. She stumbled forward, her hands reaching out as if to grasp the very air Ronald had just vacated, "You're running away from the truth! You can't escape the storm that's coming! The elements are restless, and your little world of power and privilege won't be able to shield you!"

"You're just jealous I'm not insane~"

As Rainsong walked into the Observatory, her eyes darted around, as if expecting the walls to close in on her. Her movements became jittery and erratic. She clutched at the air, as though trying to catch something invisible, her breath coming in shallow quick gasps, "The storm isn't just a Metaphor, Ronald! It's coming for you, for your precious title, for your entire way of life! J-Just wait! You'll see! HA!"

"I am the storm, Raindrop! It's on the family crest."

As Ronald strode into te meeting room, Rainsong followed, her erratic steps barely contained by the opulent setting. Her breathing was ragged, and she seemed to still struggle against some invisible force, her hands flailing as though she was fending it off. An exaggerated, manic smile stayed plastered on her sweating face. She took a lazy seat on the chair in the far right corner of the table, eyes still moving in every which direction. She tapped the table nervously, and ignored eye contact with Ronald.

He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand. He doesn't. He. Doesn't. Ha! What an idiot. The water is always right. The water is always right, just like mother said. The water. Water.

Ron sat two chairs away from her, which only put him next to her again since there was only four chairs. "I guess we wait to share the lovely news." He grinned. "My son! The next Air Master!"

Ronald's words hung in the air, a proud declaration that seemed to amplify the tension in the room. Rainsong, her manic energy barely contained, let out another sudden, sharp laugh. Her fingers continued to tap erratically on the polished wood of the table, each tap echoing like a ticking clock. She whispered, "The water... it knows Ronald. It always knows."

The entire arena froze, and the audience above the volcano vent went completely silent. Only the bubbling and hissing of the magma below cut through the thick tension. And all eyes were not on Master Javarco, but on her. Oh, how she thoroughly enjoyed ruining Javarco's big moments. How could he let a child like her trump him at every single step? How pathetic.

Zakara and Javarco locked eyes, and she saw the passionate fire and fury behind them for a split moment before it dissipated into something she couldn't quite decipher. Was he done fighting? After all, he had... agreed to retirement. Maybe, after all of his futile attempts at stopping Zakara and her father, he had realized that he would never accomplish that goal.

Javarco broke the through the hush and spoke, his voice loud and clear despite his age. "Candidates, your Trial starts now."

Apparently the words didn't quite register through to any of the others, because they just stood there. Zakara placed her hands on her hips. "Well. Is anyone going to try and claim the title?" She shouted, her eyes still focused clearly on Javarco. In truth, none of these "candidates" held a flame next to her, and she knew it, and she knew that Javarco knew it. She didn't need to bother herself with the other candidates. Her true opponent was not on this stage.

Zakara let the students make the first move. She felt a flash of flame to her right, and ducked underneath and jet of fire. Zakara let her eyes leave Javarco and focused on the assailant.

It was Kunos, a wiry kid who was the top of Javarco's class, and probably a few years older than her? She never paid much attention to Javarco's pupils. His teaching was subpar, so she never felt the need to. Kunos smashed his fists together and procured a fire dagger in both palms. "You," he seethed.

"Me," she replied, and he charged at her.

His form was sloppy, and his tactics fueled with aggression, not intellect. He thrusted one dagger under-handed in a low arch, directed at Zakara's center mass. She sidestepped him. He met her sidestep with his other dagger, in his fist closest to her. He jabbed at her stomach, but she backed out of the way. She let him regain his stability and rush at her once more.

Kunos flung both daggers at Zakara, but she avoided them with a simple shuffle to the left. Poor kid did not even know how to predict her movements. He was attempting to hit her where she was, not where she would have moved.

He did immediately follow up on the toss and rushed forward, flames licking his palms and trailing behind him in two plumes of smoke. He punched forward, missing Zakara's face, and his other hand sliced through the air, but Zakara ducked under the searing heat. In his own rage, he had overstepped and lost his balance. Zakara helped him with his already increasing momentum as she elbowed the back of his knee. Kunos slammed into the ashen dirt with a thud and a groan.

Zakara glared back up at Javarco, who met her gaze with a deep fury behind the cool and collected demeanor of a Master. His eyes screamed at her, fight! Do something! Face my pupils like a warrior!

But Zakara would not give him the satisfaction of participating on his terms. If he wanted a level playing field, if he wanted her to actually try, then he should have tried more on training them.

Kunos muttered something and shifted his legs. Zakara was done with him, and turned her attention to the rest of the battle. It was general chaos, like a playground in school. Kids were running around, screaming their little screams. Zakara lobbed one last look at Javarco. Disappointing.

She sauntered her way to one edge of the arena, dodging fire blasts and dancing out of the way of people who tried to get physical with her. She reached one of the two thick iron chains that held the arena above the volcano. The chains held the arena together with a giant iron spike. But, as Javarco himself said, the land they were on was slowly crumbling beneath them. It was loosely packed soot, and shifted under each footfall.

Zakara slammed a fist into her other palm, and she felt the all-familiar flicker of flame ignite within her. The warmth was friendly, inviting, and destructive. She flicked her open palm above her in a quick arc, and the air wobbled behind the motion as it simmered with heat.

Zakara punched down with her fist, sending a searing fireball into the ground by the spike. The ash and soot pillowed out around her and sifted down like heavy, dirty ashfall she was experienced in dealing with in the mines. As it cleared, she saw the spike, barely attached to the ground. With her free hand in the air above her, she slashed down. An arc of blistering white flame errupted out, slicing down to the ground and the spike, splitting through it all entirely. The flames roared out below the arena like a roar of the dragons of old, almost reaching the bubbling magma below.

And with that, the arena could no longer handle its own weight and the entire thing collapsed, with all the combatants along with it. Zakara grabbed ahold of the chain and watched as her "competition" all plummeted into the magma.

As if in slow motion, the lava formed a wave of smooth rock, and the bodies of the students thudded against it and slid down the now dormant volcano until they all, one by one, collided with one of its walls. The crowd groaned, collectively expecting more bloodshed and excitement than that. But Zakara looked up to Javarco, holding a handful of ash in one hand. In a slow, deliberate move, she sprinkled the dirt under the toes of one sandal and smiled at him. I reject your game, Javarco. I defy your wants and laugh at your attempts of control. And yet, I still win.

But, she did not meet Javarco's eyes. She saw the back of his head as he left, vanishing into the darkness behind him.