Chapter 52: REST AND RESOLVE
The morning came quiet. No alarms. No arena bells. No Dorian Hale’s voice thundering across the stands. Just pale sunlight filtering through the courtyard window and the distant sound of the city waking up.
Dominic slept later than he had in weeks. When he finally opened his eyes, Wobbly was on the pillow beside him, its glow restored to its usual steady blue. The three mana crystals Theresa had left on the nightstand were gone. Only empty grey husks remained. Wobbly burbled, content.
Tea was already waiting in the kitchen. Through the window, Dominic could see Florence in the courtyard, running through her morning drills. Her borrowed shirt was already dark with sweat. Her bare feet slapped the stone in a steady rhythm.
Theresa was at the table with her notes, a cup of tea cooling at her elbow. She’d pulled her hair back with a simple ribbon and wore a soft grey sweater against the morning chill. Her silk scarf was draped loosely around her neck.
"I’ve been analyzing the bracket," she said, without looking up from her notes. "Your path is Reyes first. Winnable. Then likely Baines or Trent in the quarter-finals, depending on who wins their side. Then Victor in the semi-finals."
"He’s on my side of the bracket."
"Seeded that way. The last qualifying team gets the harder path."
"Of course they do."
"There’s more. Greer drew Victor in the first round."
Dominic set his cup down. Greer. Against Victor. First round. No time to reconcile. Just the two of them in the arena.
"That’s going to be complicated," Dominic said.
Florence appeared in the doorway, drying her face with a cloth. "Greer’s been Victor’s man for three years. Put him in the ring with his former boss, and what do you think happens? Victor just has to say the right words, remind him what he owes, and Greer rolls over."
"Maybe," Dominic said. "Or maybe he’s seen enough to know Victor’s side isn’t the only option anymore."
"You think a few days s with you undoes three years of Harwick money?"
"I don’t think it’s about undoing anything. It’s about him deciding where he stands. Maybe he’s just finally realizing maybe he can be something outside Victor or the Harwicks."
"You’re still more optimistic than I am."
"I’m not optimistic. I’m just not going to write him off."
Florence dropped into the chair beside him and stole his tea. She drank it in one long swallow, made a face, and set the empty cup back in front of him. "Cold. Also bad. You need better tea."
"That was my tea."
"You weren’t drinking it."
Theresa pushed her cup toward him. "Here. You can have mine."
Dominic took it. The warmth was still there. Outside, the city was buzzing, the rest day meant markets were open, taverns were full, and every conversation in Caldmore was about the bracket.
"So," Florence said. "Wobbly. Today’s the day. Just us and the courtyard. We’ve got to find out the things you can do and assist in combat."
Dominic looked at Wobbly. The creature was on the table, basking in a patch of sunlight. It looked smaller without the pink bow. Sleeker.
"Sounds good," Dominic agreed. "But first, I need to check on Greer."
"You really don’t need to. He won’t thank you for it."
"I’m not doing it for thanks."
***
The academy dorms were quiet. Most students were still recovering from the rest day, sleeping off the accumulated exhaustion of days of Trials.
Greer’s door was at the end of the hall. A small brass plate with his name on it, slightly crooked. The door was cracked open.
Dominic pushed it wider.
Greer sat on the edge of his bed, still in the clothes he’d worn during the match. His axe was propped against the wall beside him. He hadn’t slept. His eyes were red, fixed on the floor. The room was neat, bed made, desk clear, a Harwick pennant pinned to the wall above his pillow. Green and black. Three years of it. Dominic hadn’t known Greer kept one in his room. He wondered if Greer had been looking at it all night.
Dominic leaned against the doorframe and waited.
"They gave me Victor," Greer said. His voice was hoarse. "First round."
"I know."
"I can’t fight him."
"You can."
Greer shook his head. "I froze against Reyes. I let Seira die. I couldn’t fight back. What makes you think I can face Victor?"
"Because you’re still here. Still part of the trials. If you were going to drop out, you would have done that already."
"I really wanted to properly compete."
"Then focus and do just that."
Greer looked up at him. His eyes were hollow. "You really think I can beat him?"
"I think you can face him. What happens after that is up to you."
Greer was quiet for a long moment. His gaze drifted to the Harwick pennant on the wall. Green and black. The thing that had kept him in this room, in this academy, when his family couldn’t afford it.
"I don’t know whose side I’m on anymore," he said quietly. "Victor’s family paid for everything. My tuition. My gear. They kept me here. But the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done—the things Victor’s done—" He stopped. His hands tightened on his knees. "You’re not what he said you were. You are not what I expected you to be."
Dominic didn’t answer. He just waited.
Greer looked away from the pennant. "I’ll be there tomorrow, I’ll try my best."
"Good. Now get some rest. You look like hell."
"I feel like hell."
Dominic left him there, still on the bed, still staring at the wall. But he seemed a bit more at peace.
***
The courtyard was warm with afternoon sun when Dominic returned. Florence had set up a training area, a few straw practice dummies, some targets marked with chalk, and a clear space in the center where Wobbly was waiting. The creature had been fed another mana crystal, and its glow was bright and eager. It wobbled in place, a small, excited motion.
Theresa was on the bench against the wall, her notes ready, her pen in hand. She’d put on a light coat against the breeze, but Astrielle’s Promise was still inside, hung by the door.
"Took you long enough," Florence said. She’d changed into a fresh shirt, another one of Dominic’s, a dark cotton button-down with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. She stretched her arms overhead. "How’s the axe boy?"
"He’ll do fine, he’ll show up to the fight."
"That’s more than I expected." She cracked her knuckles and grinned. "Alright. Wobbly. You’ve been holding out on us. Let’s find out what you can actually do."
Wobbly burbled. The sound was eager. Ready.
Florence gestured at the training dummies. "Start simple. Hardening. You’ve used the trait to absorb impacts. Can you push it the other way? Make your surface solid instead of elastic?"
Dominic reached through the bond. The request was wordless, a feeling, an intention. Wobbly’s surface rippled. The translucent blue of its body clouded, then crystallized, taking on a milky, opaque sheen. Dominic pressed his thumb against it. Solid. Unyielding. Like pressing on smooth stone.
"Good," Florence said. "Now you. Through the trait."
Dominic focused. The trait flowed from Wobbly into him, and his forearm took on a faint blue shimmer. He tapped it against the edge of the practice dummy. The wood splintered. His arm didn’t feel a thing.
"That’ll stop a killing blow," Florence said. "Probably." She circled the courtyard, tapping her chin. "What about another? Instead of hardening. We try Scattering. Can it separate on purpose? Control individual pieces?"
Dominic looked at Wobbly. The question passed through the bond. Wobbly’s response was hesitant, a small, uncertain burble. It had scattered before, when Florence cut it. But that had been involuntary. Doing it on purpose was different.
"Slowly," Dominic said. "Just a small piece."
Wobbly concentrated. A globule the size of a marble detached from its main body and floated in the air. It wobbled there, independent, while the main mass stayed where it was. The globule circled Dominic’s head once, then returned and merged back into Wobbly’s body. The creature burbled, surprised at itself.
"It can control separated pieces," Theresa said from the bench. Her pen was moving. "That’s significant. If it can infiltrate small spaces—"
"Or people," Florence finished. "Victor’s mouth. His nose. His ears." She looked at Dominic. "You’re thinking it."
"I’ve been thinking it since the labyrinth."
"Good. Keep thinking it." She drew her training blade. "Now. Let’s find out if it can catch a spell."
Theresa set down her pen. She raised one hand, and a small force needle materialized at her fingertips, the same spell she’d used against the angel on floor ten, shrunk down to a fraction of its power. "Ready?"
Wobbly burbled. Ready.
Theresa flicked her fingers. The needle shot across the courtyard, a thin dart of compressed air. Wobbly intercepted it mid-flight, catching the spell inside its body. The needle dissolved, and Wobbly’s glow brightened briefly. It burbled, pleased.
"It consumed the mana, rather than absorb" Theresa said.
"Can it do it again?" Florence asked. "Faster?"
Theresa fired three needles in rapid succession. Wobbly caught all three. Its glow was noticeably brighter now, almost humming.
Florence lowered her blade, and looked at Dominic. "You’re learning this now. Tomorrow, when you face him, all of this is new to you. But it’s also new to him. He won’t expect any of it."
Dominic looked at Wobbly. The creature’s glow was bright, energized by the consumed mana. "There’s one more thing we need to test."
Florence followed his gaze. "You’re sure?"
"I’m sure, and I think wobbly is as well."
She drew her blade. The steel caught the afternoon light. "Quick and clean. Like last time."
Wobbly burbled once, a short, certain sound. Ready. But there was a tremor in its glow.
"On three," Florence said. "One—"
The blade came down in a clean vertical strike. Wobbly split into a dozen pieces, each globule twitching independently on the stone.
For a long moment, nothing moved. Dominic held his breath.
Then the pieces began to flow. Slowly at first, then faster. They merged, one by one, pulling themselves together like water running uphill. Wobbly reformed in the center of the courtyard, slightly smaller than before, its glow dimmer. It wobbled once. The motion was weak. Exhausted.