CHAPTER 350: DARIUS

SAGE

Today was the day. The fight. The final one. The last piece before things go downhill.

I sat on the edge of the low cot inside my tent, staring at the glimmering surface of the water bowl before me. My reflection looked composed, calm even—but that was a lie. Beneath the surface, I was vibrating. Not from fear, but from the pulse of something electric. Anticipation.

The tent smelled faintly of oils and incense—the kind Isla swore would "soothe the soul." I didn’t need soothing. I needed the opposite. I needed chaos, the sound of magic splitting the air, the thrill of someone trying to hit me and failing spectacularly.

I needed to spar with someone that wouldn’t make me think twice of the power in my arsenal. Someone, I could go all out with. And already, I was sure that Darius was that.

"You’re smiling again," Isla’s voice came from the corner.

I turned slightly. She was leaning against one of the tent poles, arms crossed, that faint line between her brows deepening. "That smile of yours usually means trouble," she added, stepping closer.

"Maybe," I said, grinning wider. "Or maybe I’m just excited."

Isla rolled her eyes. "Excited? You’re about to fight Darius. He’s not exactly an easy opponent. He won it last year, remember? You can’t afford to be laidback..."

A pause. "He is not an easy opponent." She repeated, shaking her head, stepping in proper.

I tilted my head, feigning thought. "But that’s the point, isn’t it?"

"Be serious, Sage."

"I am being serious," I countered, standing to my feet. "You should be happy I’ll be getting rid of unused energy... less of taunting you. It’s been too long since I’ve had a proper fight. The last ones were like sparring with half-trained kittens."

She sighed, reaching out to adjust the strap on my arm guard. "You always make it sound like fun. But this isn’t just another duel, Sage. Darius isn’t normal."

A significant pause. "I don’t know... I feel some sort of energy around him... he is not just a common magic wielder..."

"Neither am I," I said lightly, and she frowned at me in a sisterly way that made me want to laugh and groan all at once.

"Promise me you’ll be careful," she said softly, her hand lingering on my forearm. "Remember, the rest of your mission hinges on this win."

"Careful is boring," I teased, then nudged her shoulder. "Don’t look at me like that. Trust me. I’ve got this."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded, reluctantly. "Fine. Just... don’t lose, or worse, die..."

"Wouldn’t dream of it."

I grabbed my coat and walked toward the tent’s exit. The air outside was crisp, charged with the energy of the crowd gathering around the field. I could already hear the low hum of voices, the metallic clang of the bell being prepared, the distant murmurs of nobles in their high seats.

As I stepped out into the sunlight, the noise swelled. The fighting grounds stretched before me—wide, circular, bordered by sigil-marked stones that shimmered faintly with protective wards. Beyond them sat the watching crowd: the royals, soldiers, citizens, guests, and, of course, Adam and his brothers.

I spotted him almost immediately. Even without looking directly, I could feel his gaze. That piercing, assessing stare that tried—and failed—to unravel me. I have not crossed his path since that night.

I rolled my shoulders, suppressing the instinctive smirk that tugged at my lips. Not now.

Darius stood at the opposite end of the field, tall and calm, his expression unreadable. He was already waiting, stretching his arms, the sunlight catching the faint metallic sheen of his skin. Not literally metal—but there was something about him that gleamed when the light hit just right, something inhuman.

When the bell tolled, deep and echoing, we met in the center.

He extended his hand first, his mouth quirking in a faint, cocky smile. "Try not to hold back this time."

I shook his hand, my grip deliberately tight. "I won’t. Do me the favor, and do the same..."

He chuckled, and nodded.

The crowd roared as we stepped apart.

—-

The first strike was his.

A blur of motion—his fist cutting through the air toward my face. I ducked, spinning low, my leg sweeping toward his ankles. He leapt easily, landing a few feet away, his smile widening.

"Fast," he said.

"Faster than you," I replied, darting forward again.

Our bodies collided in a flurry of movement. Punch. Block. Kick. Step. The rhythm built fast, sharp and fluid, until it felt almost like dancing—violent, brutal dancing. He caught my wrist, twisting, and I used the motion to spin, breaking free, slamming my elbow into his side. The impact echoed faintly, but he barely flinched.

He swung back, his knuckles grazing my jaw. I grinned at the sting. "That’s all you’ve got?"

He exhaled sharply, then feinted right before grabbing my waist and throwing me across the sand. I landed hard, dust exploding around me. The crowd gasped.

I wiped blood from the corner of my lip and stood. "Nice throw."

"I’m full of surprises," he said.

"So am I."

I lifted my hand. The air shimmered. Threads of blue light curled around my fingers, crackling with latent magic. His eyes narrowed.

"Going to start already?"

"I’m bored of punching you."

I flicked my wrist. The energy shot forward, slamming into the ground where he’d stood a moment ago. He moved fast, vanishing into mist—a smoky blur that coiled around me like a serpent.

The audience gasped again. Even I paused, momentarily impressed. "Oh," I breathed, turning slowly in place. "You didn’t mention that little trick."

I’d thought I was the only one that could do that.

His voice came from everywhere. "Didn’t think I needed to."

The mist darted around me, solidifying for an instant before dissipating again. I threw another pulse of energy, missing narrowly as it reformed behind me.

Then he struck—appearing just long enough to grab my arm and twist me into a lock.

"Yield?" he murmured, breath hot against my ear.

"Not today," I hissed, and slammed my head back into his nose. He staggered, just enough for me to break free.

"You’re insane," he spat, wiping blood from his face.

"Thank you," I said sweetly.

We circled each other, sand crunching underfoot, both breathing heavier now. The air hummed with heat and magic, each of us feeding off the other’s energy. He raised his hands again, muttering a short incantation. Red light flared across his palms before he hurled it toward me.

I countered instinctively, drawing a sigil midair with my fingertip, and the spell dispersed in a crackle of sparks. "Nice try," I said.

"You’re enjoying this too much."

"Maybe you’re just jealous I’m better at it."

"Better?" He laughed, a sharp, low sound, and then he was gone again—mist once more.

This time, I didn’t wait. I closed my eyes and listened. Not with my ears, but with the faint hum of energy that rippled through the field. Magic left trails—tiny vibrations only another powerful witch could sense. And when I felt the faintest flicker to my right, I moved.

He materialized again, solid just as my hand shot up and grabbed him by the throat.

For a moment, both of us froze. His eyes widened, surprised.

"How—"

"Trade secret," I cut in, tightening my grip.

His form shimmered, half-mist, half-solid, struggling between two states. But I held him there, my magic stopping further assaults from him, smiling, letting the tension stretch until he gasped.

That’s when I saw it—a flash of silver in his hand. A penknife, small but wickedly sharp. He’d managed to pull it out even as I held him. He was strong, really. The strongest I have faced.

My smile widened into a grin, feral and amused. "A penknife? Really?"

He tilted his head slightly, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth, and somehow he still found the nerve to smirk. "You’ll be surprised how effective small things can be."

"Maybe," I said, baring my teeth. "But not today."

And then the world shifted.

It happened fast—so fast that for a heartbeat, I thought the air itself had torn apart.

His body shimmered under my hand—I wasn’t sure how he did that, getting past my magic cages— heat surging between us, and suddenly the ground trembled. The magic around him flared, wild and uncontrollable, like fire bursting from a cage.

I stumbled back, shielding my face as the wind howled.

"What the hell—"

The light grew brighter, red and gold intertwining until it swallowed his entire form. The crowd gasped again, the sound rising in a wave of awe and panic.

And then I saw it—scales.

Dark, iridescent scales tearing through his skin, glinting like molten armor. His eyes burned amber, pupils narrowing to slits. The smell of smoke and metal filled the air.

"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me," I muttered, staring up as the ground cracked beneath my boots.