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zaceouiswriting · 3 months

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Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.19

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: Blood

The gentle midday summer breeze over the training ground has intensified, almost to the point of becoming a storm. All the while, Cory and I stare at each other. Neither of us is willing to grant the other any form of superiority as it always has been between us. The others are still watching in tense silence. My back was turned towards most of the specialists, but I could still hear their murmurs, Congratulating Cory, but I didn't care. I stare at my sword deep in the ground. But suddenly, all I could see was blood pooling around it.

My hands shake. In the distance, I could hear the screams that, to this day, keep me awake at night and stop me from dreaming of a world without bloodshed, like all the other worlds protected by fairies. I have been weak in the past, and when I look down at my still-shaking hands, I seem to be still the same. Staring at my war-defined underarm that many had underestimated in the past, I could not feel the tingling current of faerie magic flowing through it. I never could. My childhood fairy mentor told my grandfather that it was possible that I would never reach my full potential. I was listening then. This knowledge shocked me as a child, but I was never the type to give up easily.

In the end, not only did I bested myself, but I also showed this mentor that his prediction was wrong. But at what cost?

I lift my head and can see the entire student body, but to me, they seem like corpses, just like everyone who has ever gathered around me. Carefully, I wrap my hand around my sword again. Out of nowhere, the shaking of my hands suddenly stopped. Instead of the fear and panic I had felt before, there was only clarity in my mind as soon as I grabbed the handle of my new weapon.

My body knew what to do and how to do it. I don't even have to think about it anymore. But my opponent is Cory. He is one of the best, perhaps even the strongest, that ever existed, but I have to get him out of the hands of my scheming grandfather. He's just too big of a threat otherwise. Something has happened to him lately, and I can't lose such a valuable ally to him.

With a swift motion, I pull the sword from the ground, raise it, and point it toward Cory. His eyes are still wide open, and there are beads of sweat on his forehead. He is clearly nervous. I look at him with a grin. It almost feels like something is taking over me, but I am still in control. It's just a weird feeling.

As if automatically, I pull my sword closer to myself, the tip towards the sky, the sharp sides away from my body, the blunt part towards me. With the handle close to my body, I bow towards the blade respectfully and whisper a single word: “Nagilisk.”

Opening my eyes again, I raise my head back up and stare intently at Cory. The anger of a hundred thousand souls dwells in my eyes. He seems to think, at least judging by his wide, frightened eyes, that I wouldn't want to fight him. Perhaps the people around us who congratulate him prematurely because they think I'm an easy target have given him false hope.

After Corey realizes that I actually want to fight him, he quickly gets back into position and says the same word I had just uttered. A word or a name that probably no one here knows. But it's understandable. After all, the person behind the name was disgraced long ago and later sealed away.

With both hands on the hilt of my sword, which fits perfectly in my hands, I feel invincible. Even though it seems like a strong wind could break it into a million little pieces, I know it would rather cut through a world than break against anything.

Cory's anxious demeanor changed as soon as he assumed his position, a long sword in his right hand and a short one in his left. A double-bladed fighter. Both metal, like most of our people, he seems to always have them with him. The mightiest I've ever seen or heard of. When he was nine years old, he defeated the best in our world, a natural prodigy.

We both fill our weapons with Aura, a form of combat magic that Specialists once excelled at but are now devoid of. As I do this, I can feel something awakening within me, the very thing I have always tried to suppress. Even though I knew it could mean the end of hundreds, if not thousands, I still open myself to it.

I feel the bloodlust growing so strong that I know I can't hold it in for long. Hoping Corey would understand, I nod in his direction. Corey nods back almost immediately. Relieved that he actually seemed to understand, I let my aura flow out. When our auras collide, the pressure pushes away those too close to us.

Without warning, we both move. I could only imagine what it would look like from the outside, but one of my servants once told me: "You are faster than the wind!" But I can see Corey's swords moving at their usual speed. They are precise and look like an X, but the swords do not touch. As I quickly draw nearer to him, I see he is ready to attack. To any other person, his movements would have been unpredictable. But luckily, I'm not a normal person.

Once I'm close enough to see myself in his metal blades, I use my agility to move right under them and come up behind them on his right side. I get so close, in fact, to Corey that I could give him a little peck on his right cheek, and simultaneously, I hit his body with my blade.

But because of our speed, we pass each other in no time. We stop where the other had started. I stand there and wait, knowing he didn't hit me, and I know he would fall any second. At least, that's what I hope. But as one second passed into the next, I grow uneasy. Did I really hit him? My gaze was still fixed on the ground, as is the custom. With my eyes closed, all I could do was wait.

Suddenly, there is the sound of something dripping, then the clink of metal on the floor, and finally, a knee hitting the floor. As soon as I hear that, I lift my head and slam my sword back into the ground. I don't even acknowledge the blood dripping from my blade.

Dust is still in the air. Not even I can see anything. So I use the moment to straighten myself out and face where I know my childhood friend's older brother should be. As I focus on the magic raging within me, my underdeveloped fairy part. My hands quickly begin to glow brown. Within a few moments, the dust falls off and reunites with the stone we are standing on.

Even from behind, I can see the gash across his torso and the blood running down his handsome, rectangle-shaped face.

The whole ground is silent. If a pen had been dropped, there would have been a loud echo. It gives me great joy because I already know that Corey is the best in his entire year. The fact that a freshman beats him so easily can only be cheating, right? If they attempt to pursue this path, they will swiftly discover it leads nowhere. It is impossible to cheat in a sacred duel where both parties are forced to fight with all their might.

Since no one is moving or even seeming to think about helping Corey, I know I have to do it myself. I move towards my opponent with relaxed steps and step behind him. Carefully, I place both hands on his broad shoulders. I slowly move my head closer to his.

“Does it hurt?” I ask him as soon as my head is right next to his.

“Very much, Your Majesty,” he replied solemnly and calmly, obviously hating that he had lost to me.

Chuckling to myself, I dig my hands a little tighter into his shoulders. “Remember this,” I tell him, just as quietly. “And never forget the oath you just swore with him. At least my life is protected from a real threat.”

Corey's head snaps towards me, a questioning look in his eyes, but I put my index finger over my mouth, signing him to be quiet. I can see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows nervously. So I give him a wink. I straighten my back, remove my hands from his shoulders, and finally walk around him. I can feel all eyes on me, likely horrified by the brutality of the ritual. But we usually have at least two healers to ensure no one dies.

I kneel in front of Corey. His eyes follow my every move. Carefully, I touch his upper armor, which suddenly disappears at the touch. He doesn't even acknowledge it. But it breaks the silence a bit as many girls start whispering about his broad, muscular back. To be honest, I'd rave over his back, too, but I'd also do the same for his muscular, toned chest, even if I would never say it out loud. After all, he is my best friend's older brother. Luckily, I still had to scan his torso to make sure I only caused that one wound.

But this one wound is already bad enough: A large gush, deep and bleeding profusely. I could even see that some muscles and nerves had been cleanly severed. Glancing back at my sword, I'm more than surprised at its sharpness, as it looks like it couldn't even cut paper but sliced through Corey's body like butter. I feel my lips want to curl into a smile, but somehow, I manage to hold it back. But even though I try my best to suppress it, the joy of my victory ultimately overwhelms me.

“You still enjoy the misery of others. How delightful.”

With the same smile finally spreading across my lips, I gaze back at him. His face contorted in pain and perhaps disappointment. I'm not entirely sure. As I stare at him, smiling from ear to ear, which feels unnatural.

"If I were you, I would weigh my words carefully,“ I tell him quietly. “I have more than enough reasons to cut off your head.” Corey looks at me with eyes filled with shock, but he really shouldn’t. “Do you remember earlier when I defended you against the other guy? I know full well that you have dragged my name through the mud, and even though we are somewhat friends if someone heard this and knew about my status, I would have no choice but to kill you.”

Only after finishing speaking do I notice the pressure I'm radiating. One born of pure bloodlust. Something I won in the long battles on the battlefield. As I remember my time in the war, I suddenly feel something strange on my hands. Looking down at them, I notice that they have moved of their own accord closer to Corey's open wound. As they dig up and down through the inside of the wound, enjoying the feeling of cleanly cut flesh and thick blood, I know if others see it, they would think even less of me.

I, honestly, didn't even realize I had started grinning darkly until I could hear someone whisper about it. Shortly afterward, I take my hand out of the wound and smile apologetically at Corey. The whole time, he stares at me as if I'm some kind of dark creature.

Hoping to hide my disgusting habit so that it looks like I'm just trying to help him, I place both hands on his wound, albeit unnecessarily, and cast a spell to heal his wound. “Prokstoya,” I whisper quietly. Under my hands, a thin layer of stone appears over Corey's wound, closing it. But it's not big enough. “Ulersinka,” I add to the spell. The stony patch slowly grows until the entire wound is closed. But as soon as Corey moved just a little, it was already starting to break. “Reikla,” I continue to add. The stone plaster hardens, but in the places where it already has cracks, the stone is too unstable.

“Prokstoya Ulersinka Reikla,” I chant a few times to ensure the stone plaster reappears, regrows, and hardens. But I ensure it's quiet enough that only Corey and I can hear it. Because this language is neither that of the fairies nor any other species known here. Only my family and those close to us know about it. In the beginning, more people were aware of it, but when the person who taught it became the enemy of everyone, even we had to hide it, and eventually, most people forgot it.

Luckily, it looks like a guardian fairy's magic. The spell is just at a much higher level than I should be able to use, which I could feel as soon as I look into Corey's eyes. Suddenly, my head starts spinning, and I almost pass out. I've never kissed the ground, though. As I look around, disoriented, I only see Corey, and for the first time, I'm grateful for his quick reflexes.

“Sorry,” I murmur.

“Is your body still fighting your fairy magic?” Corey tries to inquire. "I still remember the day you were supposed to cast a rock into the air, and instead, you broke your teacher's ankle because your fairy magic went wild and pulled a rock out of the ground."

As Corey speaks, I feel a blush spreading across my cheeks. This is neither the place nor the time to reminisce! Especially since he has already sworn loyalty to my senile old grandfather! So, instead of paying more attention to him, I turn to Saladin and the mistress of the Alfea Academy.

“Is that enough to show you my magic?” I ask them in a salty tone.

Judging by the silence of all the students or their astonished looks, I can assume that no one seems to doubt that I am who I said I was. But not for the headmistress. I don't know if she could see through the magic or if she just didn't want to admit that she'd made a terrible mistake, but she's not convinced, as can be seen from her contorted face.

I can't believe this woman! And yet, I can. Somehow, I knew deep down that it wouldn't be that easy. Still, it should have been enough, even if she saw that the magic I just used wasn't pure fairy magic.

“You're going to have a mock fight,” the old mistress suddenly says.

“Tomorrow, right?” I ask back. But her look was stern and gave me an answer I didn't want to get. “You can’t be serious!” I added, annoyed.

“If we don’t sort this out today, we can’t move forward.”

I feel anger rising in my stomach hearing her words. I ball my hands into fists, trying desperately to keep my anger to myself and not explode in this woman's face. I can't wait for her plan to blow up.

“Okay,” I murmur through gritted teeth. I stand back up and tower over the woman. "Who will I fight?" I want to ask so much more, but I could barely contain myself. Right now, all I like to see is her arrogant face fall as everyone realizes what a mistake they made.

“Stella!“

I look around, confused. I don't see anyone stepping forward. But when I suddenly feel pressure being put on me, I start to fear for my life. As I turn in that direction, I see the same golden-haired girl I saw on my first day in Alfea. I can feel something powerful slumbering within her. She's old enough to know about it. But does she know it? Does she know about me then? I can feel it inside her from meters away, so she must feel it, too, right? But when I look at her, she seems more dissatisfied than angry. She shows no discomfort with the power within me, which is unnatural. So she hasn't awakened yet?

“Yes, Miss Faragonda?” she asks in a dismissive, almost rude tone. This causes resentment among the crowd, as many call her disrespectful. Somehow, it feels so strange that I can't help but laugh. Stella's gaze immediately jumps to me, even more dissatisfied than before.

“We'll talk about this later, young lady!” The headmistress threatens Stella, which actually makes her quiver under the older woman's watchful eyes. "You will fight this young man. Don't worry. Neither of you will be able to seriously injure the other."

Even though she obviously doesn't want to be there or have anything to do with this situation, she still nods in agreement. She comes towards me, and even though I'm taller than her, she looks down on me, or at least makes me feel like she is. There are no greetings or anything like that. What a bitch.

[Masterlist]

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