The Trévér ancestral hall groaned under the weight of battle. Marble floors were fractured in jagged patterns, the shattered remnants of the chandelier littered the floor like fallen stars. Smoke hung in curling ribbons, carrying the acrid tang of scorched stone. Every step echoed, carrying the rhythm of the confrontation that had begun almost before anyone could think.
Alina Trévér stood in the center, perfectly still, the faintest smirk curving her lips. Her pale fingers rested lightly on her wand, relaxed, as though she had all the time in the world. Her green eyes, sharp as frost, scanned the three figures before her: Emma, Isabella, and Eira, all poised, all ready to strike.
"Ah," Alina murmured, her voice smooth as silk, sliding through the hall like smoke. "So you dare… very well. Let's see how this unfolds."
Isabella's jaw tightened, but she made no move to reply. Emma's stance didn't falter, and Eira's wand arm raised, trembling slightly—not from fear, but from anticipation.
Alina's gaze slid past the two of them and locked on Eira, her eyes widening slightly with an almost imperceptible gleam of obsession. The air seemed to compress, the space around Eira growing heavier, as if the room itself bent toward Alina's will.
"You," Alina whispered, and her voice lowered, intimate and taunting, "are the reason I remain here. The only reason I care about this farce at all."
With that, she snapped her wand upward. The fight began in an instant.
************
Emma moved first, silently chanting a hex that curved like a blade of night toward Alina. Isabella followed immediately, her spell a streak of golden light that tore through the air with concussive force. Eira shouted her own spell with all her force, her voice cracking but unwavering, the words spilling into the hall like a storm.
Alina moved like water. Emma's black-edged blast met the ceiling, shattering plaster; Isabella's golden strike dissolved against her shimmering shield; Eira's shouted spell skimmed past her shoulder, harmless, even as it carved a deep furrow into the marble.
"Is this how you fight, my lovely Eira?" Alina's voice was low, almost tender, even as her wand flicked and sparks danced from the floor beneath her. "All fire, no precision. No control. Come closer, let me see your eyes. I want to see everything in them."
Eira's teeth clenched. "You really are annoying, you fucking golden retriever!"
Alina's laugh was low and throaty, reverberating through the shattered hall. "Oh… 'golden retriever'? Whatever it is… it sounds cute."she purred, a wicked smile curling her lips. "And are you… starting to fall for me, lovely Eira? Oh… I must admit, I'm starting to get wet."
**************
Emma, observing from a distance, whispered in alarm to Isabella.
"Why… why can't we touch her?!"
Isabella didn't take her eyes off Alina for a moment. "She's the head of the Trévér family," she said softly. "Do you think she would step into a duel without wards and bloodline protections? She's untouchable unless we strike in perfect coordination."
Alina's laugh cut through the shattered hall, low and throaty. "Ah… such determination," she purred, her eyes flicking to Isabella. "I do admire your courage, my dear—but courage alone won't save you."
With a fluid spin, she deflected Emma's strike effortlessly, sparks flying as wand met wand.
************
The duel became a storm.
Emma's magic was precise, silent, dark blue sparks and black-edged shields flashing as she moved with lethal economy. Isabella's golden bolts struck with devastating force, shockwaves rattling the walls. Eira's own spells roared loudly, echoing with the inexperience and raw power of a mage shouting her very soul into the battle.
Alina blocked, parried, and countered, every motion measured yet fluid. Her attacks were carefully aimed to distract and pressure, forcing all three to divide their attention, while her words never wavered, aimed at Eira alone.
"You should be stronger, my lovely Eira," she said, sidestepping a barrage of spells and sending a flick of scarlet energy past Emma's shoulder. "Stronger than them. Stronger than everyone. Do you feel it? The fire inside you? That thrill when your magic burns? That is what I can give you, every day. Power. Purpose. A throne. All it takes is your hand."
Eira screamed another spell, the hall shaking with its impact. "I would rather burn that throne than stand beside you!"
Alina tilted her head, observing her like a collector of rare gems. "Ash can be remade. Into diamonds."
***************
The three worked in tense unison. Isabella sent a golden beam to distract Alina, Emma struck at her flank with shadow-edged precision, and Eira's overcharged spell tore a crater in the floor as it struck the ceiling, spraying shards like deadly rain.
For the first time, Alina's shield flickered. Her smirk remained, but a bead of sweat traced her temple. "Ah…" she murmured, almost to herself. "They're finally making it interesting."
Her voice, still soft and obsessively directed at Eira, continued as if she were lecturing a student.
"Do you feel the thrill? The danger? That's where you belong. Not hiding behind them. Not relying on anyone but your own hands. Do you feel it, Eira? That's the fire of a queen. The fire of a ruler. Let it consume you."
Eira's eyes blazed, her voice trembling with fierce conviction. "I fight with them, I stand with them. I don't want to be a queen or a ruler—what I want is what we share. I rely on them as they rely on me. That's family—a word that means nothing to you. Look at yourself, Alina, standing here all alone, while your family ran away. You have no one. No one. But me? I have them. I have what you'll never know."
Alina smiled wider, taking a deliberate step closer. "And yet, one day, you may have to decide that it's all or nothing. That to prune the roots, you must cut deeply. Until nothing remains to oppose you."
*************
Emma's attacks were methodical, unyielding, but Alina's counters were fluid, almost casual. Isabella's shockwaves tore holes in the walls, but the golden light bent harmlessly around Alina's wards. Eira, despite inexperience, refused to yield, shouting every spell as if it were a declaration of life itself.
Alina's eyes danced, not with fear, but with fascination. She seemed to be studying Eira, noting every twitch of muscle, every flare of anger, every heartbeat of hesitation.
"You are fascinating," she said. "So raw. So full of potential. So… obediently defiant. My lovely Eira, I could burn all this away, and still, you would rise from the ashes."
**************
As the fight raged, the three pressed harder. Eira's wild blasts chipped at the edges of Alina's shields. Emma's precision strikes struck with increasing frequency. Isabella's shockwaves pushed Alina's footing to its limits.
For the first time, Alina faltered—not significantly, but perceptibly. Her deflections were sharper, her posture tighter, the smirk still there but her breathing fractionally heavier. She was still in control, but the pressure was mounting.
"Finally," she whispered, almost to herself, "a challenge worth my attention."
***********
The hall was a riot of color and motion. Scarlet arcs of Alina's magic slashed through gold and black, colliding in midair. Debris rained down as shattered stone and splintered wood exploded around them. Eira's voice cracked, but she continued to shout, letting raw power flow from her heart into each spell.
Alina parried Emma's next strike, twisted to deflect Isabella's follow-up, and with a whisper, sidestepped a blinding bolt from Eira, flipping it harmlessly into a wall. Then she spun to face Eira again, eyes wide, smirk in place.
"Yes," she said softly, venom laced with awe. "Show me everything you have. Everything, Eira. I want to see it, feel it, burn it into my memory."
The three of them braced for another onslaught. Alina's laugh echoed in the hall, a low, hypnotic sound amidst the roaring of magic.
And so it continued. Spells collided. Shields shimmered. The floor trembled with every impact.
Even as Alina's obsessive focus never wavered from Eira, the weight of three duelists pressing against her defenses was becoming apparent. A bead of sweat traced her temple, a slight tension in her shoulders—but her smirk never faltered.