15 Heart's Challenge

The next day Nate made his way toward the Arena. The clamor of whispered speculations and awed murmurs trailed him like spectral hangers-on, eager to feed off the electric excitement that crackled in his wake. The half-fae had become the focal point of the entire institution, his impending duel igniting embers of academy gossip.

The air was thick with anticipation, almost tangible against Nate's skin as he shouldered through the throng of students who parted for him like the sea before a ship's prow. His shoulder-length black hair, bound in a warrior's tie, swayed with each stride, while his emerald eyes remained fixed ahead

A hush descended upon the crowd as they entered the arena, the scent of freshly turned earth and sweat pervading their senses. Sunlight spilled through the open archways, casting long, dancing shadows upon the sand-covered floor. At the center of it all stood the figure of Professor Aldric , his imposing frame clad in robes that bore the insignia of the academy.

"Students" Professor Blackthorn's voice boomed, reverberating against the age-old stones. Each word was a thunderclap, silencing the last vestiges of chatter. "Today, you bear witness to a clash of wills."

Nate's gaze swept over the sea of faces surrounding the dueling pit, noting the glint of excitement, the barely-contained frenzy of bets being placed. 

"Let it be known," continued Professor Aldric "that here at Aetherium, we honor the old ways. Strength is recognized, courage is lauded, and skill..." He paused, allowing his gaze to settle on Nate, "...skill is rewarded."

The audience drew in a collective breath, the silence so profound that the distant call of a hawk seemed like a clarion call to arms.

"Contenders, to your positions!" commanded Professor Aldric, and with those words, the stage was set.

The clash of steel rang through the air as Nate danced across the sunlit arena. His dagger—a mere extension of his will—caught the light, casting fleeting rainbows amidst the throng of onlookers. The crowd's cheers and jeers rose to a fever pitch as they witnessed the spectacle.

His opponent, a cheeky boy who had deemed himself worthy of the challenge, charged with spells crackling at his fingertips. But Nate was a tempest, untouchable; he parried each incantation and sidestepped every thrust. With each deft move, the boy's offense crumbled, and humiliation tainted his features as his attacks met nothing but air.

"Is that all you've got?" Nate taunted, his voice laced with an edge sharp enough to slice through the tension that hung between them. His emerald eyes, alight with the thrill of the duel, scanned for the next opening.

The boy, red-faced and panting, summoned what little dignity he could muster for another assault. Yet, it was clear as the high sun above that he was outclassed. Every spell he wove, every strike he aimed, Nate anticipated.

And then, the moment stretched—the crowd hushed in anticipation—as Nate prepared to end the farce of a battle. A smug smirk curled the corner of his lips.

With a flourish of his wrist, Nate feinted, his adversary foolishly overextending in response. Seizing the opportunity, Nate stepped inside the boy's guard, his dagger finding the critical point just below the chin, halting a hair's breadth from skin. "Yield," he commanded, his voice echoing with finality.

Defeat etched into the challenger's face as he stumbled backward and collapsed onto the arena floor, his pride scattered like the dust that rose around him. In that crystalline moment of triumph, the reality of Nate's prowess enveloped the arena, leaving some to cheer their approval and others to sit in stunned silence.

Nate stepped out of the arena, his pulse still racing from the thrill of victory. The clamor of the crowd faded behind him as he made his way across the cobblestone path, the stones cool beneath his boots.

"Brilliant display," Gwen's voice floated towards him, carrying the melody of genuine awe. He turned to find her approaching, the sea-blue of her eyes sparkling with unspoken pride. Her chestnut hair swayed gently in the breeze, catching stray beams of light that slipped through the canopy of ancient oaks surrounding them.

"Merely a test of skills," Nate replied, unable to suppress a grin. His black hair, tied back for the duel, now fell loosely around his shoulders, framing his emerald eyes.

"Modesty becomes you," Gwen's laughter rang clear, mingling with the rustle of leaves. She fell into step beside him, their strides syncing as they meandered through the verdant sprawl of the academy gardens.

As they walked, the weight of anticipation and adrenaline that had cocooned Nate began to dissolve, replaced by an unwinding calm. Gwen's presence was like a balm that was able to stabilize his spirit. 

They reached the edge of the woods—where the manicured lawns gave way to wild beauty—and Nate led the way into the thicket. Shafts of sunlight dappled the forest floor, casting an ethereal glow over the clearing.

Here, the air was alive with the whispers of nature—the chirp of crickets and the soft hum of bees dancing from bloom to bloom. The scents of moss and earth enveloped them.

Gwen moved to sit on a fallen log, her gaze lingering on the dappling light. Nate joined her, their shoulders brushing in silent acknowledgment of the peace they found in each other's company. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the atmosphere charged with the stirrings of something new and fragile blooming between them.

With a newfound courage, Nate turned to Gwen, his hand finding hers. The contact sparked a warmth that spread through his veins like liquid fire. Their eyes met, and the world seemed to slow, every leaf and blade of grass suspended in anticipation.

"Thank you, Gwen," he whispered, his voice touched with an emotion deeper than gratitude.

"For what?" she murmured back, her sea-blue eyes searching his.

 "For putting up with me" He jokingly said to her. 

Her hand squeezed him, and she leaned closer, closing the gap between them. "Always."

And then, as naturally as the river finds the sea, Gwen leaned in and lightly brushed her lips against his in a short sweet kiss. 

Nate's heart was a drumbeat in his ears as he pulled away from the kiss, the taste of Gwen lingering like a sweet spell. The emerald depths of his eyes flickered with uncertainty under the moonlit grove where they stood.

"Listen," he began, his voice unsteady as he sought to catch her gaze, "there's something I should tell you" Gwen's sea-blue eyes, moments ago soft with affection, sharpened into daggers. Nate faltered under their scrutiny but knew there was no turning back now.

He took a deep breath, the air cool and fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. "I am already engaged to someone else," he blurted out. The words felt like heavy stones coming out of his mouth. 

Gwen recoiled, her face a canvas of shock and hurt. Her lips, which had just tenderly brushed against his, now drew into a tight line. "Engaged?" she echoed, the word tainted with disbelief.

Nate could see the revulsion etched onto her delicate features—A look that pained him to see. "Her name is Sam," he continued quickly, eager to explain before the contempt could root deeper. "She's... she's my childhood friend."

"Ah," Gwen said coldly, her chestnut hair swaying as she took a measured step back. Her pointed ears seemed to twitch.

"Look, Sam..... She mentioned she would be alright with me having more than one wife," Nate rushed to add, hoping to salvage the shards of what they'd just shared. "But only if that is something you would be comfortable with."

"More wives?" Gwen's voice was laced with incredulity, her eyes reflecting the labyrinth of emotions within. "So, I'm just an addition to your collection?"

"No, that's not what I—" Nate's protest died on his lips. He realized how hollow his explanations must sound. "Only if you wish to continue with forming a relationship with me," he finished lamely. "Otherwise, we remain friends. Nothing more."

Gwen's gaze drifted off into the distance, toward the ancient trees that whispered secrets of ages past. Her silhouette seemed to blend with the shadows, making her appear both present and infinitely far away.

"Time," she finally said, her voice softer but still laced with a distant chill. "I need time to think"

Nate watched her closely, trying to decipher the tempest behind her stoic facade. She did not look pleased, that much was clear, but neither did she outright reject the notion. A shard of hope wedged itself into his conscience.

"Take all the time you need," he said gently, giving her space. As she turned away, cloaked in contemplation, Nate felt the tension in his shoulders ease ever so slightly. Her open-ended response was not a sentence of finality—it was, perhaps, a door left ajar.

As she disappeared into the embrace of the grove, an unspoken weight lifted from Nate's heart, his hidden relief surfacing after confessing his existing engagement to Gwen.