The Black Lotus | Vol.1, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

1.

Makaela's heartbeat hiccupped as the sharp bolt of purple magic nicked her shoulder.

Before she knew it, her arm was hanging at her side like a wet noodle. The feeling had all but vanished, replaced by a dull sensation that reminded her of television static. Blowing a stray black curl out her face, she glared at her cousin who stood on the other side of the elevated dueling platform. "That was a mistake."

Remy inched backward as he flashed her a nervous smile. His hands trembled. "Sorry?"

He wasn't sorry.

But he would be.

She advanced, throwing a volley of knockback spells in his direction. Her fingers performed the sequences with speed she didn't know she possessed. Remy yelped, the golden tattoo in his palm pulsing as he conjured a shimmering golden shield. Makaela's attacks bounced off. She scowled.

Her arm remained at her side, dangling uselessly. Though, the feeling returned with every passing second. With Remy on the backfoot, it was time to end this.

After forming the sequence for another stunning spell, a violet stream of light shot from her palm and hurtled toward Remy.

He dove to his side, landing hard on his shoulder. The bright spell exploded next to him, momentarily dazing him.

Makaela smirked and continued onwards. She closed her eyes, tapping into the vitalae coursing through her veins. A surge of power rushed through her and she opened her eyes. Bringing her hands together, she then pushed outward, conjuring a strong burst of wind.

The powerful gust surged towards Remy and knocked him on his behind.

She quickly closed the distance between them. He shot a blue spell at her. She somersaulted over it without even breaking stride. As she twisted in the air, she directed another stunning spell at him. This time, it found its mark.

Remy's body seized against the dueling platform's faded canvas. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out an annoyed groan. Makaela landed inches away from him, her wild mane of black curls settling into her face. She pointed her casting hand at his chest, the golden brand in her palm pulsating with magic ready to be unleashed.

"Alright, alright," her cousin grumbled. "I yield."

She beamed at him triumphantly. "Another win. What is that now? Has to be at least fifty. Will I ever be beaten?" She glanced at the dark grey sky for an answer. "The clouds say no."

"That's enough, Makaela," Olivier said.

Her uncle trotted up the wooden stairs leading to the platform and knelt by Remy's side. After reversing the effects of her stunning spell, he helped his son to his feet. But not before casting his niece a disapproving glance.

"What?" She crossed her arms and turned away from him.

"You know, dueling used to be about class. Honor. Respect."

Makaela snorted. "Yeah, I know. You've only said it for the hundredth time."

"And yet you're still arrogant." Her uncle shook his head. "You have talent. There's no denying that. You're just as talented as your father was when he was your age. But the difference between you and him is he had respect for his opponent. He wouldn't want you to act like—"

"Well, he's dead," she snapped. "What he wants doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

A sad look filled Olivier's bronze-colored eyes. Sighing, he rose to his feet.

Makaela cursed under her breath. Rubbing the back of her neck, she glared at her dirty sneakers. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

He nodded. Then he smiled. "That was a good session today." He glanced at Remy and ruffled his short, brown locks. "You need to work on your aim."