vicious [d.m]

ten: waves & claws

The second Trial begins much the same way.

Dark, thick smoke rolls into her room from under the door — and Khione waits for it to surround her, to swallow her up like a beast. It's been exactly three days since the first trial — and her leg is doing better with all the Draughts she downs per day. She's managed to keep her head down and Radna hasn't bothered her so far, although she's caught him glowering at her more than once from across the Great Hall.

She ignores him every time, piling her plate up with food and heading to the Divination Tower to sit on the steps and eat. Malfoy never joins her again — and she's surprised at how little she sees of him, despite them being in the same house. Even Irvene seems to steer clear of her.

When the smoke clears, it's so bright that her eyes hurt, forcing her to throw up a hand in front of her face as she squints against the light. It takes her a moment to register that wherever she is, it's smack in the middle of the day, sunlight beating down on her, so hot the back of her neck heats up.

It takes her another moment to realise she's standing at the edge of a cliff.

All around her, there's water, a shifting sea far below. Rolling, crashing waves, midnight blue and throwing up spray as they collide with the rocks down below — so far down that Khione knows there's no choice of surviving that fall.

And in front of her lies a bridge — a thin, rickety, wooden thing leading to another cliff on the other side, smack in the middle of the ocean. It's barely a small island, probably big enough to fit two people on it. On the other side of that small cliff is another bridge, leading over to another cliff resembling the one Khione currently stands on, a bit larger than the one in between them.

She breathes in salty sea air and turns, trying to get her bearings. All around her, there are matching cliffs. Separated from hers, two large ones with bridges leading to a small one in the middle of them.

Movement catches her eye and her head jerks to the side to look at the one to her right. There's a flash of pale hair and a tall frame clothed in black — and although he's far away, she can tell it's Malfoy. He's sprinting across that rickety little wooden bridge connecting his cliff to the tiny one in the centre — and he's running with such speed that Khione knows he's up against somebody.

Immediately, her eyes flick to the cliff opposite him — where another contestant is sprinting down his bridge, heading right for that centre island. It's a race — to what, Khione doesn't know. All she knows is that whoever gets there first wins.

With a surge of adrenaline, she takes off, ignoring the discomfort in her leg as she leaps onto the bridge, not bothering to catch her balance as it sways from side to side with the momentum. Her opponent — just a dark blur far on the other side — has kicked into motion as well, the both of them racing for that middle island upon which Khione can see something small, glittering in the harsh sunlight.

A knife? A weapon of some sort? She can't make it out even as she sprints for it, her muscles working overtime to compensate for her bad leg. Her opponent is lean and slight-boned — but she's still too far to make out their face. But there's no shock of red hair so that means it's not Radna or Irvene. She feels half-disappointed and half-relieved.

Her footsteps pound on the wood below her as she runs, lungs heaving to draw in air faster than she uses it up. The wind tears at her clothes and her hair and she pointedly ignores the almost debilitating height she's at, so high up even the air is thinner here.

She's always been quick. Her slight frame gives her that advantage although she's had to build up her stamina, considering how quickly she depletes of energy without any weight on her. She'd been worryingly thin even growing up — the bane of her fussing mother's existence — but when her life had been torn apart by the war, it had only gotten worse.