The coliseum glowed gold in the morning sun, the sky stained in streaks of pink and deep violet—like the dawn held its breath, aware that what was to come would change the world. This was the final day of the Royal Trials. The air was too still, like magic had paused just to listen.
Inside the Queen's preparation chamber, tension shimmered.
Avenya fastened her gauntlets in silence. Her eyes, black as obsidian, reflected the floating runes on the stone wall.
Zerina stood near the brazier, flames flickering over her bare arms. "They changed the combat layout again," she murmured. "We'll be split into pairs. Random. Possibly even against each other."
"Of course," Kaelara scoffed, tying her wild red curls back with a vine. "Let them test us like beasts in a pit. I'm ready."
"You'd enjoy fighting one of us, wouldn't you?" Serenya teased, chewing on a dried date as she sat cross-legged atop a floating cushion.
"Only if you begged for mercy," Kaelara grinned.
Calla sat near the mirror, brushing golden strands from her face. "We shouldn't be so quick to dismiss this. The nobles are watching. The royals too. Even the foreign emissaries arrived this morning."
Zerina turned. "So?"
Calla met her gaze. "So what happens here echoes beyond us. Beyond this academy."
"They're waiting to see which of us is worthy," Avenya said quietly. "And if we're not... they'll crown someone else."
A hush fell over them.
Then Serenya stood. "Then let's give them something unforgettable."
The coliseum was transformed—again.
No longer a wasteland or forest, it now resembled an ancient battlefield, with broken statues, floating platforms, rivers of molten glass, and glowing ruins inscribed with forgotten spells. Illusions moved across the sky—fragments of history looping endlessly above.
The crowd roared as Headmistress Elvareth's voice boomed:
"Today, the last trial! A challenge of skill, heart, power, and truth. You will be paired… and judged."
The first match flashed into existence.
He was cold, elegant, and deadly. His twin sabers shimmered like starlight.
"I remember your mother," he said. "She died screaming."
Kaelara didn't respond with words—just a low growl. Vines exploded from the ground, attempting to wrap around him, but he sliced them effortlessly.
Their clash was brutal. Kaelara danced through the field like a forest storm, barefoot and wild. She summoned thorned wolves from the shadows, her skin glowing green-gold. Veylan fought with cold precision, summoning spectral daggers that rained like hail.
"You fight like a beast," he hissed.
"I am one," she spat, blood on her lip. "And I'll bury you."
With a roar, she plunged her hands into the earth. The battlefield cracked. A massive tree erupted beneath him, skewering him mid-air. He screamed, impaled by nature's fury.
The crowd screamed in awe.
Fire met fire.
The coliseum turned into a burning temple, flames licking the sky. Priestess Mirel walked barefoot on lava, eyes glowing gold.
"You've strayed," Mirel said. "You're no longer one of us."
Zerina knelt in the flames, unburnt. "No. I've just become what you fear."
They danced across fire, spells carving golden paths in the air. Zerina wept as she fought—pain mixing with power. Her fire wasn't elegant; it was wild, screaming, furious. Her final blow: a wave of white flame that split the arena floor and dropped the Priestess into a pit of holy ash.
The silence that followed was thick with reverence.
He was muscle and steel, ancient and brutal.
"You're soft," he said. "A temple child. You don't belong on a battlefield."
Serenya blinked—and vanished.
Myros spun in confusion.
She reappeared behind him, twin daggers at his throat.
"I don't belong," she whispered, "I reign."
Lightning crackled around her as she unleashed spell after spell—wind blades, shadow pulses, illusion traps. Myros staggered, disoriented.
When he raised his blade again, Serenya walked straight through it—an illusion.
Then she dropped from above, real this time, both blades digging into his shoulder.
"You underestimated me," she breathed.
"And that's how kings fall."
Two noble bloodlines. Two radiant warriors.
"I know your family's secret," Ithene purred, circling.
Calla's smile didn't waver. "Then you should know what happens to those who speak it aloud."
Ithene lunged with a blade laced in silver venom. Calla blocked with a fan of diamond shards. Their duel was elegance incarnate—graceful, precise, deadly.
Calla summoned light beams from the coliseum mirrors, refracting them into weaponized rays. Ithene countered with shadow clones.
"I was raised for this stage," Ithene hissed.
Calla spun, robes flowing, and released a sigil of blinding gold. "And I was born for the throne."
With one last flick, she shattered Ithene's blade and held a mirror-dagger to her throat.
"Yield."
The crowd erupted in cheers.
It wasn't announced.
She stood in the center of the arena alone. Then—black smoke. A man appeared, cloaked in shadow and dripping with arcane runes.
"Elharis," she whispered. "The Ghost of the Old Kingdom."
The crowd went silent.
"You should not exist," Avenya said.
"Neither should you," he growled. "Yet here we are."
He struck first—chains of memory, spears of shadow, curses in the old tongue.
Avenya didn't dodge. She absorbed.
Her hands flared with elemental chaos—fire, wind, earth, light, shadow, ice.
"You are many," he sneered.
"I am all," she said—and her body lifted from the ground, her eyes glowing with a black light edged in violet.
The arena shattered. Runes exploded. Lightning danced. Her magic swallowed his entirely. With a whisper, she disarmed him.
He fell to his knees.
"You're the Black Queen," he said.
"I am," she replied.
And the world bowed.
Later, bruised and sweat-slicked, the Queens gathered in the hidden grove behind the coliseum. Lanterns swayed in the wind. Magic hung in the air like perfume.
Calla sat beside Avenya, their hands brushing. "That was... impossible."
Avenya didn't speak. She looked to the horizon.
Kaelara sat down next, nursing a cut. "You glowed like a goddess. Showoff."
Zerina arrived barefoot, eyes calm. "I prayed for answers. I think I found them."
Serenya tossed a peach to Kaelara. "You looked hot covered in blood."
Kaelara bit into the fruit. "I always do."
They laughed—soft and tired.
Then the crystal trees began to hum.
"What is that?" Calla whispered.
Avenya stood. "Something's calling."
A glowing path opened beneath the trees. A spiral of light and roots.
"A secret gate," Zerina murmured. "Hidden magic. Kingdom-bound."
"Only blood can open it," Avenya said.
Without speaking, they each drew a blade. Sliced palms. Let blood fall into the groove of the stones.
The earth trembled.
The trees parted—and a gate rose from the lake behind them.
Avenya turned to the others.
"Are we ready?"
Kaelara grinned. "For home? Always."
Calla squeezed Avenya's hand. "Together."
Serenya twirled a dagger. "Let's make history scream."
Zerina smiled, eyes soft. "Let's return."
They stepped forward, side by side.
And the gate opened.
A city of impossible towers floated beyond, cloaked in mist and memory.
The Kingdom had returned.
And the Queens had come to claim it.