The Luna Academy

The Disqualification

A ripple of movement stirs through the room as blue shirts rush into position, their energy trembling with excitement and nerves. Whispers spread through the huddle while dust particles drift lazily through the beams of light, each one glowing like a tiny star suspended in the thick, heavy air.

My pulse drums in my ears as I line up beside Sylas and Jada, each of us facing Elder Barrett, who stands in front of a row of red mats gleaming faintly beneath dim spotlights.

“Matches will be chosen at random,” he announces, holding up a glowing crystal sphere.

Inside it, silver wisps swirl like smoke trapped under glass, forming names that shift and vanish too quickly to read. “When your name appears, step forward.”

He holds the sphere in front of him for all to see

“First match!” Elder Barrett shouts.

A second stretches into eternity before two names burn into existence — JADA and ALYSSA.

A murmur ripples through the students before he silences their commentary with a single look. My stomach drops.

Of f*****g course.

Jada smirks and tilts her head toward me. “Let’s see what you really got, witch.”

“Sounds good to me,” I manage, stepping forward, though my gut twists into knots.

We step onto the mat behind Elder Barrett. The crowd’s chatter dulls to a low buzz and every sound fades except for the soft slap of my shoes against the mat.

It’s just me, the pounding in my chest, and Jada’s sharp, confident grin. The other first-years in blue gather around, while the upper-level students barely glance our way, as they’re absorbed in their own matches. Except for two pairs of eyes I feel burning through me, Elara’s and, if I’m not mistaken, Oliver’s.

I face Jada, squaring off and forcing my breath steady until the nerves fade. I replay her earlier fight in my head. Every motion she made was clean, efficient, and lethal but she favors her right side. The throw she used means her real strength is in her legs. If I’m going to have a shot, I’ll need to keep her off balance.

My mouth twists as I watch her, unafraid. Not a single strand of her black pixie cut is out of place, even after her match with the big, burly guy. Elder Barrett’s voice cuts through the silence once more.

“No magic, no weapons. This is a test of control, strength, and instinct. We’ll begin in three...”

Jada rolls her shoulders, her movements precise and predatory. I take my stance, grounding myself the way the old self-defense videos taught me.

“Two…”

I plant my feet shoulder width apart, knees bent, energy centered, heart steady. Well mostly. A breeze of cold air brushes the back of my neck, raising goosebumps despite the heat in my veins.

“One.”

Jada lunges first. Fast. Her fist slices through the air where my face was half a second ago. I twist away, feeling the rush of wind graze my cheek. Boots scrape against the mat while the onlookers erupt in excitement, but all I hear is my heartbeat pounding like war drums.

I counter her attack with one of my own, throwing my weight behind the punch. Our fists collide with a dull, thunderous c***k echoing through the chamber. The shock of impact forces us apart for a heartbeat. Pain shoots up my arm, vibrating through bone and muscle, but neither of us backs down.

We lunge again. Adrenaline floods my veins, bright and burning. For the first time since arriving at this academy, I’m not running. I’m fighting. Jada’s eyes widen, a flicker of surprise breaking her focus. I move before she can recover, sweeping her legs out from under her. She hits the mat hard, the sound echoing off the walls like thunder breaking.

I drop to my knees to pin her, but she twists like lightning, flipping us in one motion and pinning me instead. Her grip is ironclad, pressing into my wrists until my joints ache. I thrash, but she’s stronger. Panic blurs the edges of my vision. My heart quickens as blood rushes to my ears, drowning out everything around me until I feel faint.

A tear threatens to spill, but I refuse to let it fall. I shove away all the noise, their faces and their judgment. In the darkness that follows, a single memory flashes.

Dad.

His goodbye.

The blade.

Me, standing powerless to do anything.

The memories sear through me. My body hums, vibrating with something hot and wild beneath my skin. The world seems to tighten around me, sparks flickering at the edges of my vision. Strength crawls through my veins like fire catching on gasoline, burning hotter with every heartbeat.

With a force I don’t understand, I push back, throwing Jada off to the ground. She hits the mat hard, sliding across it as the space between us trembles with the leftover energy. My hands burn with a faint glow at the fingertips before the light fades.

For a moment, everything is silent. Jada lies dazed on the mat, staring up at me. My fist disobeys me and strikes toward her face, stopping only millimeters from her nose. The entire room freezes. Even the world seems to stop. My pulse hammers against my throat, each beat echoing loud enough to fill the silence.

The room seems to shrink until all that exists is the ragged sound of my breathing and the faint ringing in my ears. The lights flicker above me.

Somewhere in the sea of faces, a voice whispers, “Did you see what she just did?”

Another follows, quieter, “Her hands…They were glowing.”

Looking down at my trembling fingers, it takes everything in me not to hide them. My gaze is so focused on my hands, I nearly miss the movement at the edge of my vision.

Oliver stands among the crowd, watching me with the same look as the others, although his eyes seem to be in awe. Our eyes meet for only a second before he looks away, jaw tight. But his one glance steadies me more than any breath I could take. The golden shimmer in his eyes catches the light, faint but real, like the first spark before a wildfire.

Elder Barrett steps forward, face unreadable.

“And you’re disqualified,” he declares, his voice cutting through the silence.

I blink, as if coming out of a trance.

“What? Why?” The words rip from my throat before I can stop them.

“I said no magic.”