It had only been a few days since the whole ordeal with Luke, and I've got to admit, the weekend couldn't have come soon enough. It felt like a massive weight had finally been lifted off my shoulders.

Luke was on the mend, thankfully. Aside from the occasional migraine, he was back to his usual self, which was a relief. I'd also managed to steer clear of any more duels since my arm got banged up, which was a win in my book.

Despite my best efforts not to wreck my arm further, I'd started training with Mara. She claimed she was only doing it out of pity, but I had a sneaking suspicion she didn't entirely hate my company. I mean, I'd say we were basically besties at this point.

One day, she even decided to show off and revealed she was an Ignis. With a grin, she sprouted these fiery wings that looked like something straight out of a comic book, bright flames blazing from her back. It was a bit like Blake's tail, only much more in-your-face.

We messed around with all sorts of weapons, but I still hadn't touched Caladorn since that weird testing box. Something about that sword just didn't sit right with me, like it was waiting for the right moment or something. I even asked Miss Reid about it, hoping she'd have some secret info. But all she could offer was a vague promise to look into it. Not exactly comforting when even the headmistress seemed clueless.

I started wondering if maybe I should've taken my dad's advice and brought a weapon from home. But no, I had to go for the whole 'blend in with everyone else' vibe. Brilliant choice, Nate.

When I wasn't in class, babysitting Luke, or getting my butt kicked by Mara, I did some research on this whole Proelium business. Turns out, it's a pretty big deal. Almost every combat school in the country sends someone to compete. You can enter solo, as a pair, or in a group of up to six. But here's the kicker: solo fighters have to go up against full teams. Seems a bit skewed if you ask me, but I guess it makes for better entertainment.

Apparently, both teachers and students can enter, and while injuries are a given, deaths have been rare in recent years—if the internet can be trusted, that is.

One thing was clear after all my research: there was no way I was letting Luke enter this thing alone.

"Oi, pretty boy. What's with the face?" Mara's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She was grinning down at me, having just tackled me to the ground for no apparent reason.

"What was that for? We're not even sparring!" I grumbled, though she didn't seem the slightest bit sorry. In fact, she looked far too pleased with herself.

"Always be prepared. You never know when your opponent will strike!"

I rolled my eyes at her, which was a mistake. She leaned in, her face just inches from mine, her breath warm on my skin.

"You. Never. Know. When. They. Will. Strike," she whispered, her tone intense enough to make my cheeks burn. Before I could react, she was off me and ready for another round.

"Come on, let's go. You're not up to scratch yet," she called, smirking as she waited for me to get up.

I groaned, dragging myself to my feet. "Do we have to?"

But of course, there was no getting out of it.

By the time Mara was done with me, I was drenched in sweat and probably smelled like something had died. I trudged over to Nilla's workshop, wondering why she'd summoned me after such a gruelling session. She hadn't even given me time to shower, so she'd just have to deal with my post-training stench.

"Hey, Nilla. How's it going?" I called as I entered.

Nilla spun around from her workbench, her face covered in some black substance, with her golden hair singed on one side. She looked like she'd been through a war zone.

"Oh, hey, Nate. You look almost as bad as me," she chuckled, sliding her goggles up to reveal the only clean part of her face.

"Almost," I laughed, relieved to see that I wasn't the only one in dire need of a bath. "What have you been up to?"

Her eyes lit up like she'd just found buried treasure. "IheardthatLukewillbeenteringtheupcomingProeliumsoImadehimalittlesomething!"

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish her rapid-fire sentence. When she didn't, I waved my hands in front of her. "Woah, slow down."

She took a deep breath, then tried again, this time more slowly. "Luke... Proelium... little... something..."

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, she held up a quiver packed with hi-tech arrows. "I call them pulse arrows. When they hit the ground, they send out a pulse that knocks down anyone within a ten-metre radius."

She beamed with pride, and I couldn't help but be impressed. "Why give them to me? Why not just ask Luke to come here himself?"

She didn't even turn around as she started fiddling with something on her workbench. "I figured I'd have a better chance getting you here than him."

Fair point. Luke had been distancing himself from everyone, hiding behind that 'I'm fine' act. But we weren't idiots—we could all see through it.

***

"Luke?" I called as I opened the door to our room, only to find it empty again. This time, at least, he'd left a note.

Staying out, super-hot chick, be back tomorrow.

Well, at least I knew he was alive.

I plopped down on my bed, pulling out the greasy chips I'd picked up on my way back. Not exactly the healthiest choice, but I was too tired to care. After I finished eating, I jumped in the shower, letting the hot water work its magic on my sore muscles.

Mara had stamina for days—seriously, she could keep fighting for hours. If we trained like that again tomorrow, I'd probably need to sleep for a week.

As I rinsed the shampoo from my hair, the suds running down my back, a strange voice echoed in my head. "Meet me on the school roof in 20 minutes."

It was the weirdest sensation, like someone had just reached into my mind and dropped off a message. I knew people could develop abilities like that, but I'd never expected to run into one, let alone be on the receiving end.

Curiosity got the better of me. I quickly shut off the shower, got dressed, and headed up to the roof. Only one way to find out who was messing with my head.

"You came," a girl's voice greeted me as I stepped onto the roof.

I recognised her immediately—short, dark blue-black hair, sitting on the edge with her legs dangling over the side. It was Blake, the girl I'd fought before. She glanced over at me, then gestured for me to sit next to her.

"Why did you call me here?" I asked, taking a seat beside her, more confused than anything.

She kept her gaze fixed on the street below as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your sword. You've not used it yet. Why?"

"I don't know... I guess I just don't really trust it yet. Why do you ask?"

She finally looked at me, her dark brown eyes giving nothing away. "If the wielder doesn't trust the weapon, how can the weapon trust the wielder?"

I stared out at the moonlit sky, turning her words over in my mind, trying to decipher their meaning. When I looked back to ask her more, she was gone, like she'd never been there at all.

What could Blake mean? How is Luke really doing? Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough. Well, thanks for reading and don't forget to vote!