The week following the Dread Reapers' chaotic heist was mercifully calmer, at least on the surface. The academy buzzed with rumors about an impending announcement, and even the teachers seemed more enigmatic than usual, dropping vague hints that had the students speculating wildly.
"Good morning, students," Headmaster Velmont said during the daily assembly. His voice carried the weight of something important, though his usual stern expression betrayed little emotion. "As we progress through this semester, remember that diligence and discipline will shape you into the leaders and champions of tomorrow."
Rynhara sat near the back of the assembly hall, slouching slightly in her seat.
"Why does he always sound like he's recruiting for an army?" she muttered to Kaelira, who stood behind her with her ever-present clipboard.
"Because he probably is," Kaelira replied dryly.
"Additionally," Velmont continued, his tone growing sharper, "certain select students may find themselves representing our academy in inter-institutional competitions. More details will be revealed later in the semester, so prepare yourselves accordingly."
The room erupted into whispers.
"Inter-institutional competitions?"
"Do you think it's the tournament?"
"It has to be! My older brother competed in it three years ago. They fought dragons in the finals!"
"Great," Rynhara said, leaning back. "Just what I need. Another excuse for people to challenge me."
"Think of it as free practice," Kaelira said, smirking.
The day's lessons were oddly tinged with foreshadowing, as if the teachers had all decided to play coy about the supposed tournament.
In magic class, Professor Andralyn lectured on the importance of "strategic spell combinations."
"In real-world combat scenarios, or perhaps competitive events, knowing how to layer your spells effectively can make the difference between victory and defeat," she said, glancing meaningfully at Rynhara.
"Is she looking at me because she thinks I need it, or because she's already planning to volunteer me?" Rynhara whispered to Kaelira.
"Both," Kaelira replied without hesitation.
Over in combat class, Instructor Garran had the students sparring with more intensity than usual.
"Keep your guard up!" he barked as Rynhara dodged an overly eager Prince Alaric's sword strike and retaliated with a sweep of her scythe. "The stakes might be higher than you realize in the future!"
"Do you have to make everything sound like an ominous prophecy?" Rynhara asked, flicking Alaric's weapon out of his hand with a flourish.
Garran's grin was wolfish. "It keeps you on your toes."
By lunchtime, the school cafeteria was abuzz with theories. Rynhara found herself cornered at her usual table by a group of overly enthusiastic classmates.
"I bet the competition will involve a survival challenge," said Veloria, the princess of a neighboring kingdom. "My brother's told me stories about past tournaments. One team even had to fight a wyvern!"
"I heard they include an obstacle course that tests both magic and physical skills," added another student.
"What do you think, Rynhara?" Alaric asked, leaning on the table. "You've already got a head start with your training. Think you'll get picked?"
Rynhara sighed, poking at her meal. "Honestly, I hope not. I've got enough on my plate without adding fighting wyverns for school glory to the list."
"Pfft. You'd probably wipe the floor with the competition," Alaric said, grinning.
Rynhara glared at him. "You say that like it's a compliment."
"It is," Kaelira interjected from her position nearby. "If nothing else, think of the chaos you could cause."
Rynhara rolled her eyes. "You're not helping."
That afternoon, the Dread Reapers convened in their usual chaotic fashion.
"So," Nalia began, lounging in her chair with a predatory smirk, "who here thinks they're getting picked for the tournament?"
Axel raised a hand. "Obviously me. They'll need someone with my genius for explosives."
"Or they'll ban you for property damage," Seraphine said without looking up from her book.
Grigor chuckled. "Let them pick me. I've been waiting for a chance to show these kids what real combat looks like."
"Do you even know how to spell tournament?" Rynhara asked, raising a brow.
Grigor looked genuinely stumped, and the room erupted into laughter.
"Anyway," Nalia said, turning her gaze to Rynhara, "I wouldn't be surprised if they nominate you, Miss Dragon Princess."
"Great. More opportunities for people to hate me," Rynhara muttered.
"Or fear you," Axel said, grinning.
That evening, Rynhara slumped into her chair in the dining hall, recounting the day's events to Tiamora.
"So, apparently there's some big international tournament coming up, and everyone thinks I'm going to get roped into it," she said, pushing her food around her plate.
Tiamora's golden eyes lit up with interest. "An international tournament? How exciting! Imagine the glory you could bring to our family."
"Or the additional hatred," Rynhara countered.
Tiamora waved a hand dismissively. "Nonsense. A little infamy is good for the soul."
Kaelira snickered. "She's not wrong."
Rynhara groaned. "Why does everyone in my life insist on making things harder for me?"
Tiamora leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "Because, my darling, that's how you grow. Now eat your dinner. You'll need your strength for whatever comes next."
Despite her exasperation, Rynhara couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity—and maybe even excitement—about what the future held.