6 - RANK

Phaedra crossed her arms over her chest, and a cruel smirk twisted her lips while she looked up at him.

"You are defending a bleeding stray now, Darian?" she mocked, and she tilted her head to look at the nasty gash still healing on his forehead.

"Your father must be so disappointed in the little mutt he raised, especially since you couldn't even afford to rent a proper car for her arrival," she taunted.

Darian did not yell, and he simply let a low, vibrating snarl slip from his throat while his eyes flared a dangerous, glowing crimson.

"Say one more word about my pack, and I will rip your throat out right here in front of your little friends," Darian warned in a deadly, quiet tone.

Phaedra took a step back as the Alpha aura rolled off him, and she smoothed her blazer down to hide the sudden tremor in her hands.

"You are a savage, Varric," she muttered, and she turned on her heel to walk away just as the courtyard alarm began to blare.

"Attention all first-year students, please proceed to the sorting arena immediately," a synthetic voice echoed from hidden speakers around the walls.

"What happens in the sorting arena?" I asked, and I swallowed the nervous lump forming in my throat as heavily armored guards began funneling the crowd toward a massive set of double doors.

"They test your magical affinity and assign your rank in front of the whole school," Darian explained grimly while we followed the crowd.

"And what happens when they test me and find absolutely nothing?" I stammered, and I felt my palms start to sweat against the cold metal of my wrench.

"We are about to find out," he said, and he placed a firm hand on my back to guide me forward.

We walked through the double doors, and we stepped into a sprawling, circular amphitheater built from dark obsidian stone.

The seating areas rose high into the vaulted ceiling, and older students were already filling the rows to watch the new arrivals get sorted.

The arena smelled like ozone and old dust, and the sheer size of the room made me feel incredibly small and insignificant.

The center of the arena was empty except for a massive, glowing crystal resting on a raised stone pedestal.

The crystal pulsed with a soft silver light, and the raw energy radiating from the ancient stone made the hair on my arms stand up.

The guards directed the first-year students to line up along the edge of the arena floor, and the ambient chatter slowly died down as a tall, imposing professor walked up to the crystal.

The professor wore long black robes, and he held a digital scroll that projected a list of names into the air above the pedestal.

"When your name is called, you will step up and place your hand on the ranking crystal to determine your place in this academy," the professor announced, and his voice boomed across the silent arena.

"If the crystal glows red, you join the combat elite, and if it glows blue, you join the scholarly ranks," Darian whispered into my ear from the spot next to me.

"Does it ever just stay dark?" I whispered back, and I wiped my sweaty palms on my muddy cargo pants while my heart hammered against my ribs.

"It stays dark for humans, and that means you get placed in the lowest tier of the servant class," he replied softly, and he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead so the guards wouldn't scold us for talking.

The professor began reading names off the glowing scroll, and student after student walked up to touch the ancient stone.

A tall vampire boy touched the crystal and it flared a bright, blinding red, and the crowd in the stands erupted into loud cheers as he smirked and walked to the elite section.

A nervous-looking girl stepped up next, and the stone glowed a soft, steady blue before she hurried over to join the scholarly ranks.

The sorting went on for what felt like hours, and the knot of dread in my stomach twisted tighter with every passing minute.

I watched the elite heirs flaunt their magic, and I realized just how out of place my bruised, bleeding, and exhausted body truly was in this room.

I didn't belong here, and Kiefer was right to assume this school would chew me up and spit me out the second they saw I had no power.

"I can't do this, Darian," I stuttered out quietly, and I took a hesitant step back toward the heavy doors we had just walked through.

"You are not running away now," Darian ordered in a firm whisper, and his hand shot out to grab my wrist before I could retreat another inch.

"They are going to laugh at me, and then they are going to make me a servant for these rich assholes," I argued, and I tried to yank my arm free from his solid grip.

"You stood up to a rogue shifter today, so you can stand up to a piece of glowing rock," he said, and he squeezed my wrist to ground me just as the professor cleared his throat.

The silence in the arena stretched thin, and the professor stared down at his digital scroll with a deep frown creasing his forehead.

"Liora of the Varric Pack," the professor called out over the digital loudspeaker, and the name echoed across the massive obsidian walls.

Every single head in the arena turned to look at the line of first-year students, and thousands of judgmental eyes locked onto my filthy clothes.

"Step up to the ranking crystal, Liora," the professor commanded, and he tapped the stone pedestal with an impatient sigh.