Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

Alexandra Italia Vaughn, Sixth of Her Name, of the House of Vero, and Princess of the Seventh Realm Plains, was named Champion of the [Clash of Swords] by the Three Without Eyes.

The mysterious judges saw it fit when they held up three plaques with a nine, nine, and eight for her. Israfel got a nine, nine, and a seven.

He was unperturbed; Alexandra did 'work' for her win. Nothing could be done for the demure faces in the dome's quadrants though. However, he knew it wasn't only for the sparring in which the Three Without Eyes had judged, for he could see in the hidden veils of their cowls knowing, orbless depths that had seen right through the [Light Bubble].

Eyes that had seen him bang and BJ his opponent gladiator on the very public arena.

—And the entire freaking college thought the Three Without Eyes did not have. . .well, eyes!

As Alexandra was proclaimed winner of the finals by the presiding Pontus, the flunkers of the Ludus: the Gaul and the pixie-blue giantess were carried off in stretchers flanked at the sides by Healers.

Above, their loyal Arcs turned downcast eyes from the obvious jubilee in the midnight quadrant; all faction compadres of the Raven Arc were restless and in overdrive. The geeks among the crowd were already putting together points total in their genius minds. One Arc was about to emerge the 703rd Spring Games winner. No tie. No dice.

The Headmistress of the Corynthian Academy for Witches, alias CAW, stood in her pinnacle. As she gathered up the perfect poise of nobility any mind could fathom, her grayish cat eyes roamed across all the levels below her down to Israfel, the runner-up in the finals. His red-plume helmet clasped in the crook of his arm, he watched her fancy medieval robes flash around her with the wind.

She was wearing fire red tonight—as if she'd known how it'd end.

Israfel could see the tigress lurking behind her eyes and the [Beast of Carnage] just under that smooth, caramel, velvet, soil-kissed skin.

Nicara Shetty: doctor, witch, and Sentinel Corps Commander sweetly raised a delicate hand—at that second in which Corazón was tempted to yell from the Raven quadrant's bleachers that it was but the hand of a murderess—and the entire stadium stilled in silence.

She addressed the college and visiting alumni with a soft voice; it carried on the wind by [Echo drift], a sea art nearly lost in the last century.

"That was a wonderful spectacle from our students, or must I say, gladiators. With this rousing display of swordfighting in the sands, our annual games to honor spring—the isles of Corynthia's oldest tradition, has come to an end. Albeit, this night is far from over."

Nicara's lovely gaze swept the amphitheater. The sun had long since wisped into the sea, and the open twilight sky turned her form at the dome's peak to an angel. "I see many friends from over the years," she continued, "I see the new Legata of Sovereign Rocasus. The Duchess of Roanoke, a close friend, under the Griffin tents with her twin girls. His Holiness, the Highfather.

The Sorceress Supreme of the Badlands. Barons and Admirals of the Cold Sea. And several more distinguished nobility traveled in from Titans Landing...

Ah! I must ask, how is the Continent's great capital these days?"

This prompted laughter from all over as Nicara's question was laced in deep sarcasm. Everyone knew that since the former Capitol had fallen into the tyrannical reign of the Usurper, fiends of Hel openly strolled in the greatest polis of the realms: demons, battering and breaking bread with men. Men to scared to try a putsch.

Gods knew the Fallen would've extended their conquest to the Corynthian islands if they could, but it was so far out into the ocean, and the Court of Whispers really didn't fancy sending a naval fleet out there. Nor risk the tidal wraths of the Atlanteans living just beneath the water surface.

Plus the Dowager, Lady [Archdemoness Esq.] Lilith Firstborn didn't really want to try her divine runes against the god-tier wards of the primordial druids casted all over the islands. And so the Usurper let Corynthia keep its independence.

—but it did not mean the other Fallen weren't planning. In fact, the execution of it was soon. Your journey continues with empire

Nicara smiled and waved a little hand in silent apology; her joke was a bit cruel to the fae locked in the gripping nation. "Alright, enough of that!

"What I really mean to say is that I am so very happy to see you all here, and to have being able to bear witness to the phenomenal effort my pupils put into these Games. You were all absolutely amazing. And I want you to know that even though only one Arc can go home with the Spring Trophy: the Silver Clover, all Arcs are still winners.

Let not the disappointment abide. Instead, joy on. Celebrate with your friends. Mingle! Ride the night. You are only young once.

Beyond the Arcs, you are still first-years, Second Years, Third Years, and finalists of this great, mage institution. Don't be green. Don't be sad. The moon is out tonight and the sea gale favors our beaches. This might be the one time you lot might get to hear me say this, so know I mean it when I say: I want you to party like it's the Great Apocalypse on the morrow! Okay?"

"Yeah! Whoeeee!" A boy across the last rows in the Griffin quadrant whistled.

"Thank you... Uh, whoever that is," Nicara smarted, prompting more snorts in the crowd, "but I mean it. Tonight is your chance to go wild, because I have spoken to your Professors, Field and Flight Commandants, and the School Board, and we are ready for your examinations to begin—"

"Aww, come on!" Another person yelled, this time from the Pegasus quadrant. "KILLJOY!"

"Yeah, whatever." Nicara waived the student's charge; she had always had a fanciful camaraderie with her pupils—which was why Israfel was giving her time to prove otherwise in her betrayal of the college in the first place. "...so you'd better enjoy this night. It's the most free time you'll have in the coming weeks. Wolves, run with your pack! Vampires, organise blood fests!

Demons, start fires or some shit!

But don't burn the school down." Everyone giggled again. She went on: "Practicals for [Sorcery Rituals] and [Enchantment Spells] starts first thing on Monday! A formal announcement will be given in the dorm Halls by your respective student-year Presidents."

Nicara cleared her throat, "now that that's out there, let's see the Leaderboard."

Even as she turned behind to collect the little paper with the winning Arc's name an emissary from the Three Without Eyes offered, the giant golden screen all the students of the academy had come to know shimmered out of thin air. Each and every pair of eyes in the amphitheater hit on it at the same moment. One could feel the thick tension in the air.

The leaderboard glowed in the air, above the empty arena, alive in the night skies; it showed results, tabulating and rearranging in Arc names in order by rank.

Israfel and Alexandra were in the changing rooms under the Colosseum's bleachers, and reared forward with their squires to peep out the hollow chamber through slits in the stone.

The entire college stared, and read:

[Phoenix Arc: 74 GOLD – 9 SILVER– 12 BRASS.]

[Raven Arc: 61 GOLD – 19 SILVER – 2 BRASS.]

[Griffin Arc: 32 GOLD – 51 SILVER – 18 BRASS.]

[Pegasus Arc: 67 GOLD – 1 SILVER – 21 BRASS.]

"For shite's sake," a Griffin first-year cussed under her faction's tent, "how the fuck did we drop to third?" Her student president was listening in from the next row and turned back, just a second to flip her a hard stare. "Cut it out, Hilary. You're not the only one bummed by this." Erika faced back forward and caught the eyes of a boy with springy, coal hair staring at her.

"What?"

Despite him being two years her senior, and a werewolf she looked him down; he was the one who broke eye contact.

Erika could not contain the anger simmering in her. She needed some sort of release. It was like all the factions were gazing across, down, and up from their quadrants at her. This was the one time she hated the being the center of attraction.

After she had bragged to literally all who would listen to her just last week of her Arc's rise to second place, it was a huge slap to her face when their plaque now dropped to the third brass plate on the screen.

A gigantic fucking screen!

Since Saul the Gaul had lost out to Alexandra in the arena, and Blue the Bonebreaker to Rafel, both Griffin and Pegasus Arcs had only gained points of brass, while Phoenix had come up with silver, and very surprisingly, Raven with gold.

How amazing it was that Raven Arc, who was fourth at the time of the [Hunt of Athena] was now runner-up at the finals?

Erika knew she wouldn't hear the end of it.

"Fuck this!" She stood and just about shouted to her fellow gold-mates on the row, "move, darn it!"

The boys and girls made way for her to pass hurriedly. Halfway down the aisle of levels, she encountered a smirking fourth-year: Bolta. The daughter of Zeus was out of her [Sentinel Corps] commando uniform with her signet as wingleader, and was in full blue colors, flying for her Arc. She rose when she saw Erika approaching from above and blocked her path.

"Not so cheeky, are you now, Miss President?"

Aya Naamah, who was seated just under Bolta joined her to grin snidely at Erika. "Careful now, love. You should smile more, érst you dot that pretty face in worry lines. Oh, didn't the Headmistress say we should all be happy for each other?" Aya turned a conspiratorial glance to Bolta, "she did say that, right?!"

"Get out of my face!" Erika shouted this time and rammed past their shoulders.

Bolta and Aya burst out laughing. Bolta tossed out just before Erika ducked under a trilithon. "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones! Hahaha!"

Erika practically ran out the exit.

Even though Bolta and Aya were both of the blue faction, and Pegasus Arc had come up last on the leaderboard, fourth place didn't hurt them as much as second place did the Griffins; the golden faction had come very close to even a tie with the winners of the games: the Phoenixes. And then to suddenly drop from that perch to third place, ouch!

Once Erika was out of earshot, Ravenna turned from her seat among her jubilating Shadow faction comrades to console her friends in Griffin Arc.

"It's not that bad; there's still next year. And you guys already have got the most winning streak."

She was right about it all, as she touched Percival and Brunhilda's shoulders both. The difference in points that made each Arc's position was meager.

As Nicara opened the gilded scroll and announced the obvious winners of the Year's Spring Games, Israfel left the others who had represented his Arc like Olivar D'shenko and Gretchen Manderley and Eli Ingram to claim the [Divine Grade] prize of the Silver Clover. He on the other hand quietly followed after the sobbing Student President. She would need a comforter. And comfort he could provide.

[. . .that and more, Host. That and more.]

Peitho pinged dutifully.

[One crying skyling bombshell detected!]

[In need of a GOOD, LONG, HARD comforting!]

[Proximity to Host: 43 feet.]

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