SAGE

Today was the day. The fight. The final one. The last piece before things go downhill.

I sat on the edge of the low cot inside my tent, staring at the glimmering surface of the water bowl before me. My reflection looked composed, calm even—but that was a lie. Beneath the surface, I was vibrating. Not from fear, but from the pulse of something electric. Anticipation.

The tent smelled faintly of oils and incense—the kind Isla swore would "soothe the soul." I didn't need soothing. I needed the opposite. I needed chaos, the sound of magic splitting the air, the thrill of someone trying to hit me and failing...