The Mage’s Revenge (Crescent Moon Academy Book 2)

by CY Jones

  “Really? Now that’s news to me. I’ve never seen it.”

  “You wouldn’t. That just means it’s doing its job.”

  “That makes sense too,” I murmur.

  I get no more time to ponder the mysteries of Ruelle when a rolled up golden scroll lands in my lap. Unrolling it, I read that I have five competitors. All are ranked pretty high, but it’s the last name on the list that gives me pause. Ruelle Morganstein. Hell. Why me? Looking up, I glare across at the asshole who only smiles once he’s done reading his scroll.

  “What is the meaning of this? You’re already ranked so high. Why are you being greedy?”

  “What’s going on?” Zion growls before snatching my scroll away. Immediately, his face turns red and flames replace his irises. “You have some nerve. If you think you can fight her, then fight me first.”

  “Why? I’m not fighting her because she’s weak. Fighting her will be a challenge, and if I were to survive, I will not be much of a challenge for you,” he replies lazily.

  “Then fight me instead,” Zion suggests.

  “You know I can’t. Once on the scroll, our names are in stone and cannot be changed. Plus, this is a fight her father wanted to witness. It’s he who wants to see who is the stronger heir.”

  “Then I’ll lose on purpose. I won’t even try,” I say stubbornly.

  “Do as you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “You don’t need me to tell you that’s a foolish idea. If you fail, your father may take your loss out on others,” he says, flicking his eyes at Zion and Kirito.

  Shit. We did lie and tell him I left because Kirito was specially training me. If I humiliate Lord Killjoy in front of all these spectators, he will not take the offense lightly. He’ll definitely go after Kirito, and his family, and Zion since he said he allowed me to leave. Fucking hell, this is a mess.

  “Don’t panic, doll. You’re better than him,” Ryker says, reassuring me.

  “Yeah, treasure, kick his ass and send him packing back to London,” Oli adds, comforting me along with his brother.

  “You all are so sweet. It’s hard to imagine you only have one mate. I wonder if the rumors are true. Are you fucking all of them?” Ruelle’s voice isn’t nice. It’s dripping in disdain.

  “What business is it to you?” Mary, out of all people, speaks up for me, waking from her nap. The bat hanging from her ponytail chirps once before clawing its way to a more comfortable spot and hanging on.

  “I was just curious, but you’re right. It’s none of my business.”

  I don’t answer. After that, I just ignore him. Standing, Mary stretches and leaves for the start of her own fight, which is the reason why she woke up in the first place. Apparently, there are quite a few mages who have something to prove and have been waiting for this day to take the little vampire down. Since she spoke up for me, I hope she wins and shuts the naysayers up.

  To pass the time until the start of the fight, I take a look at the scrolls of the other heirs. Both Zion and Milo have only one challenger, but when I look at the twins scrolls, I’m surprised it’s completely blank, but when I think back, I guess that sounds about right. After the massacre of a whole class, who would challenge them? I’m just glad my list isn’t filling the page like I thought it would. I guess the heir’s intimidation tactic did work to an extent.

  All Mary’s fights are long as if she’s purposely drawing them out to humiliate her opponent as payment for the trouble of picking on her. Or maybe she’s having fun and doesn't want it to end. Her first fight was lazy, but as she kept winning, you could see her getting more and more into it until she was gleefully defeating and killing off her opponent. Once finished and her list of challengers were completely wiped out, the sandy floor beneath her feet was decorated in blood and she left the ring with a look of pure bliss on her face. What a horrifying, tiny, little psycho.

  Zion was randomly drawn next, and with one move, and less than two seconds later, his opponent was dead, left burning to a crisp in the middle of the arena. “Pathetic,” he scowls, leaving the ring, pissed off that his time was wasted.

  Milo was next up, and he put just as much effort in fighting as Zion did. His challenger, on the other hand, was going all out. To lengthen the fight, Milo did nothing but dodge until even he grew bored, and suddenly appearing behind his opponent, he grabbed him by the neck and snapped his neck.

  Asking no one in particular, I say “I’m sorry, but does it say in the rules we have to kill our challengers? I could have sworn Gramps said leaving them alive was an option.”

  Answering, Zion says, “We don’t have to kill them. It would be benevolent of us to show mercy, but since they had the balls to challenge us, then why not kill them when they fail?”

  “Especially if they aren’t putting up much of a challenge like we have seen so far,” Oli adds.

  “I guess that makes sense, but what a waste?”

  Like intermission in a play, we have a break mid-way through the fights. Excited that their parents are finally here, the twins dragged me along for a quick meet and greet. I knew they had three dads and a mom and this would be my first time seeing such a family dynamic. Like their sons, their parents had deep tans, making their bronze skin glow. Their mom and two of their dads are like viking Gods with blonde hair and clear blue eyes and I could clearly see where the twins get their pretty features from. Their third dad was the odd man in the bunch with sandy brown hair with hints of blonde naturally dyed from the sun, but he had pretty turquoise eyes like a sparkling lake and a very charming smile.

  Just like the twins, they had an Aussie accent, just more pronounced, and I could listen to them talk all day, but with Lord Killjoy nearby, I didn’t dare stay for long, letting them continue their family reunion while I spoke with my grandfather. We didn’t dare say much since he was still being closely monitored by the Council. I wish I could have gotten some pointers. He knows I’ll be fighting Ruelle today. Getting to know Lord Killjoy’s character, I suspect it’ll be the last fight. The grand finale to all this pointless killing. I’m just curious about how far he ordered Ruelle to go. Will my cousin actually try to kill me?

  “Lovely,” the Erlking says, interrupting my dark thoughts.

  “This is the first time I haven’t seen you drunk or in the middle of some sort of debauchery,” I comment.

  “With days like today, one needs to be aware. That mother of yours hasn't left me alone since she got here,” he answers, quite annoyed.

  “Leslie is no mother of mine. What the hell? Don’t you think it’s best to stay away from her? What if she guesses you’re not the real Quinn? What are you thinking?”

  “So many questions, lovely. Don’t you think I’ve tried to stay away from her? This is the first breather I’ve gotten all day, and it’s because I’m talking to you.”

  “That sounds about right. Leslie hates me, so of course, she’d act like I don’t exist. Who else did she bring with her?”

  “I suspect the whole brood, for the exception of your father. He’s still missing.”

  “What do you mean suspect? Haven’t you seen them?” I ask, confused.

  “Your sister, Harley, who wasn’t really that nice, but the other two have been incognito, but this Leslie person said they are here.”

  “That’s strange. I wonder why Hartly and Jeckel are playing hide and seek? Did Leslie really bring them?” He shrugs, unbothered, like he can careless. “Just stay away from them. Tell Leslie it’s embarrassing for you to be seen hanging around your mom. With your ranking, they won’t question it. Worst scenario, they’ll blame me and seek me out, which is fine. I can handle them.”

  “As you wish, lovely. Have you gotten any closer to finding your brother’s soul?” he asks suddenly.

  “No, why? Do you know where it is?” Can he sense it or something? If he can, it would be helpful.

  “I have a working theory, but I haven’t gathered all the facts yet,” he replies cryptically.

  “What the hel
l does that mean?” I shout, not caring if I’m making a scene.

  “Just that. I don’t have all the facts, so I can’t tell you much, which is why until I do, I’m keeping my theory to myself.”

  “I hate you,” I mutter, annoyed.

  “I love you too, boo,” he says, making a kissy face and shooing me away. I was about to give him a piece of my mind, but then I catch the reason behind the strange behavior and quickly brush it off. Both Leslie and Harley were on their way over. Seeing those two are my least favorite people, I hurry away, back to my own side. I have one tough fight coming up as it is. I’d rather not have to fight with family also.

  Epilogue

  So it's come down to this. The final fight of the evening. I just knew Lord Killjoy would save the fight between Ruelle and I for last, and now, the time has come for the main event. I’ve fought four opponents already, and here I stand, across from my cousin, covered in their blood. Three of them are dead, the bodies already dragged away. The fourth I showed mercy and allowed him to drag his broken body from the arena on his own.

  “I hope you decided to be serious,” Ruelle says in a cool voice.

  Standing straight, with an ancient weapon gripped tightly in my hand, dripping the blood of my enemies, I nod. At first, I wanted to forfeit, but there’s a lot more on the line than my pride. In the stands, I can practically feel the gaze of the other heirs seering into my neck like they have in my heart. Deep inside me, I sense Zion’s worry, but for the masses he masks it well. For them, I cannot stand down.

  With a loud dong, the fight begins and, like a blur, we both move too fast for normal eyes to track. Throwing out a doll, at the same time, I strike with my katana. Originally, Ruelle was weaponless, but the sword collides with a weapon of his own making, and I gasp at the katana made from shadows in his hand. Since when can Ruelle do shadow magic? On the ground, my little doll runs circles around Ruelle, trapping him in a whirlpool. Helping the little guy out, I use my wind power and blow and he goes flying with arms flailing toward a marble pillar on the other side of the arena. Having activated the spell sewed inside him, my little buddy disappears and I throw another out. Originally, I made five of them, each spelled with an element. Air, water, fire, earth, and spirit.

  “Nasty little trick. Are all voodoo priestesses so deceptive?” Ruelle growls as he stands to his feet.

  “Me? What about you? Since when do you know shadow magic?”

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, but I never thought you’d be this slow.” With that, he comes at me, but not before he burns my little friend. The blue wisp of smoke tells me he was my water defense, and now, he’s gone. Ruelle’s moves are agile as my own, and he's just as good, almost like we’re mirroring one another. If I lunged in, he’d lunged out. I strike, he strikes and counter each of my moves the exact same. Executing a series of flips that I’m certain only I can do, he also does the same, landing with feet as light as my own, and I gape at him shocked with my mouth wide open.

  “Have you figured it out yet?” he taunts.

  “What are you going on about? Just shut up and fight.”

  “As Morganstein’s daughter, I thought you’d be smarter, but apparently, all you care about is your heirs and getting laid.”

  Our weapons parlay off one another, and I twist backwards avoiding the curve of his blade as it goes for my face. Flipping backwards both our feet collide and we both fly back. Fighting him is irritating. It’s like I do, he do. I kick, he kicks. I hit, he hits. I pull off a cool ass move, he copies. He copies. Oh shit.

  “Ahh, I see you get it now. Took you long enough. Maybe you should dye your hair blonde and change your last name to Bundy.”

  “You have the power to mirror one’s magic,” I say, ignoring his insult.

  “Correct,” he smiles sinisterly. “And not just mirror it. I only have to see it done once, and I can copy it whenever I want. For years I have been storing powers and guess who gets to test them out?”

  Shit. This is bad. Lord Killjoy didn’t save our battle for last just for dramatic effect. It’s also so that Ruelle could sit back and compile powerful moves and magic to use against me. He’s like the ultimate supercomputer with a database filled with shit to kill me.

  “Bravo,” I snark, “but I promised to fight you for real, so quit the chitchat.” My words are braver than I feel, but crying over the unfairness isn’t going to help.

  Taking my earth doll, I throw it at the ground. He can copy powers, but he can’t copy shit I handmade and spelled and brought here beforehand. Under his feet, the ground opens up and he falls into a deep hole. This spell has a nasty bite, so while he’s falling, thorny poisonous vines shoot out and catch him and wrap around his body. Blood oozes out of the punctures and I wince for his sake. But I have no time to celebrate when a loud explosion sounds and he’s freed.

  Above our heads, lightning strikes and four giant mirrors circle around us. The spectating crowd in the stands watching oohs and awws, pointing at them like some spectacular phenomenon. “Since you know what I can do, there’s no point in hiding them any longer.”

  Mirrors. I guess there would have to be some kind of conduit to allow him to do what he does. It also explains how he’s able to conceal himself and sneak around. Like a human magician, he uses the mirrors to manipulate the shadows. I’m not an expert, but I get the gist of his ability. But even if I’m overpowered, I still have my skill and technique.

  Like a deadly dance, we fly at one another striking and dodging the other hits. Punching and kicking, flipping and clashing our weapons against one another. This martial art dance is beautiful, like a movie centered on the two people fighting. Pulling off unreal moves that only one talented with a camera could capture. As good as I am, because of his power, he’s equally as talented, and I breathe heavily, quickly growing tired.

  Holding out my hand, I call for my staff, which flies into my open palm. Mounting it, I balance on it like a surfboard and use my air power to fly through the air. Archer isn’t allowed to fight for me, but there’s nothing in the rules that states I can’t use his weapon, so before Ruelle can guess what I’m up to, I imagine what I want and call out Archer’s name.

  The response is immediate. As I fly through the air, a giant arrow appears out of thin air and I grab it, notching a glowing red arrow, I shoot. The spiritual arrow sings beautifully through the air and lands dead center into one of the mirrors, making it ripple and break, raining sparkling yet deadly shards of glass to the ground. Wasting no time, another arrow fills my hand and I immediately let it fly, taking out another mirror. It’s when I go for the third when my luck has run out and a gust of wind knocks me off my staff. Screaming, I go down, but I pull it together quick enough before I end up a pancake, guiding the wind to catch me and decrease my descent.

  “Clever girl, but not clever enough.”

  “I took out two of your peeping tools, I say that was fantastic,” I snark, patting myself on the back.

  “Silly girl, I let you. Do you really think I could not stop you?”

  “Liar,” I hiss. Of course, he couldn’t stop me. He’s just trying to throw me off. Well, I’m not falling for it.

  “Liar, Liar pants on fire,” I sing, but actually it’s a spell and flames erupt surrounding him. “Don’t you think this little duel has gone on long enough?” I shout over to him.

  “Possibly,” he shouts loud enough to be heard through the flames. If we weren’t trying to kill one another right now, this would seem like a regular conversation.

  With a flick of my wrist, the flames rage louder, grow taller, and hotter, like the rage evolving in my heart. The killing intent is present and the monster inside me has been freed. Lost in my feral thoughts, above us thunder sounds, the skies turn grey, opening up, drenching us in rain.

  Anger seethes off me, and I actually stomp my foot, annoyed. “Will you just die already?” I growl. “It isn’t enough for you to be a cheater, but now, you can open up the Heavens an
d call on the rain? Fine, alright. It’s time to pull out all the cards.”

  Humming at first in a tune born from nightmares, I sing, twisting a song into a sinister spell. This soulful song “Monster” originally written by Bessam Witwit, I transform into a terrifying spell.

  You've been on a mission to take my pride away from me. You don’t ever listen. And you live with your complacency. You don’t scare me, but you should fear me. The sun is setting, don’t trust your hearing. You made a monster. I’m your imposter, go ahead and wander, but don’t trust the waters.

  The pouring rain above us turns to blood, thick and hot covering us both. But on me, the blood is harmless, only a nuisance that turns me into the prom scene in Carrie, but on him, the blood burns like lava, and he screams in pure satisfying agony as his skin melts off his bones. Or so I thought.

  How could I forget that day in the gym when Ruelle used strong illusion magic fighting Kirito? Stopping my spell mid-way, he was able to shield himself from the blood rain and him screaming and scratching at his flesh is nothing but an illusion he wanted me to see. Using my staff, I break the spell and we’re both standing across from one another once again. At this point, I’m drained. Having exercised more magic than I planned, I can’t help stealing a glance at the stands to make sure Zion is alright. I can’t forget it’s him making all this possible and in reality, he’s fighting along with me. We never tested the limits of how much mana I can take.

  “Give up. You won’t win,” Ruelle states.

  “I can and I will,” I seethe.

  “Just look at you. You’re a mess. How long do you think you two can keep this up?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s only me and you in this ring.” There’s no way in hell he knows. No matter what power he wields, nothing can alert him the mana flowing through my veins isn’t my own.

  Zion is pale, but he looks fine, so I charge at the asshole once again with my staff. With a sword in one hand and a staff in the other, I use both against him like an expert double wielder. Fighting with me, he goes toe to toe, neither of us giving an inch. My body hurts, my muscles ache, and I feel like death. My breath is harder to catch in this all-out of season marathon in Hell, but I power through the pain trying to inflict as much damage as possible. I’ll never stop. It'll take my body dropping dead on its own for me to give up.