The courtyard stilled as the five envoys stepped forward, cloaks brushing the stone like banners of challenge. My recruits had frozen mid-drill, eyes darting between me and the intruders. Even Darian's face hardened, hand hovering near the hilt of his blade.
The silver-haired one, the leader, smiled thinly. "We didn't come for pleasantries. We came to measure." His words were soft, but they carried the weight of authority — the voice of men who were used to being obeyed.
"Measure what?" I asked, voice calm.
"You."
He didn't bother dressing it in politics. He flicked his hand, and the others moved.
One envoy raised a staff — crimson sigils burned into the sky, summoning a wall of fire that split the courtyard. Another unfurled chains of light, each link humming with binding magic. The third unsheathed a sword that vibrated with killing intent. The last knelt, whispering into the ground; the earth itself groaned as spikes jutted upward, trying to trap me in a cage.
Their coordination was flawless, the kind of formation polished through years of campaigns.
Too bad they used it on me.
The first chain snapped around my wrist — or tried to. Lightning erupted on instinct, purple arcs lashing outward. The chain melted into slag before it even tightened.
The fire wall surged, heat blistering against the courtyard stones. I stepped through it. The flames bent away as if the storm inside me refused to share the same air.
The swordsman lunged, blade aimed for my throat. Vyre, my wraith, materialized in an instant, intercepting. Steel met storm, and the envoy was flung across the yard like a ragdoll, crashing through the training dummies.
The earth-shaper's spikes closed in — only for me to raise a hand.
"Wrath of Silence."
The world hushed. No crackle of flame, no grinding of stone. Just silence, heavy and complete. Then lightning exploded outward, tearing the ground apart, shredding their formation as if it were paper.
When the dust cleared, the courtyard was ruined — training posts splintered, earth gouged into craters. The envoys lay scattered, their cloaks torn, their bodies trembling from burns and shocks they hadn't anticipated.
All of it had taken less than a minute.
The silver-haired leader hadn't moved. He still wore that sharp, irritating smile, though now it was thinner, strained. He gave a slow clap, mockery bleeding into every strike of his hands.
"So the rumors were true. You're not just strong — you're uncontrollable."
He tilted his head, eyes glittering. "But do you know what happens to uncontrollable storms, Ashura Bellet?"
I stepped toward him. The storm in my veins surged, eager, restless. My voice was quiet when I answered:
"They don't get controlled."
His smile faltered.
"They erase whatever tries."
The recruits stared at me like they were seeing me for the first time. Selvara's pen slipped from her fingers. Kaelen's jaw hung open. Even Darian's eyes, sharp as blades, flickered with something new: not doubt, not wariness — but acknowledgment.
The envoys had wanted to measure me.
Instead, they'd shown everyone in this courtyard — and themselves — exactly what kind of storm they'd walked into.