Rose's POV

I plummet to the ground for what may seem like the hundredth time. For the past three minutes, Mr.Ivanov has been relentlessly attacking me with his element. I pop up before he can pressurize the air and use the wind around him to swipe him off of his feet.

While falling down, I blast him with two impactful bursts of air so that it will take longer to recover. I am done being on the defensive. I shoot air balls at my instructor while moving around the arena.

I know that Mr.Ivanov is much stronger than me, so pressurizing the air would be useless. He stands back up and retakes his position. I remember something we worked on in one of my training sessions, so I plant my feet in a wide stance and gather the air around me. Mr.Ivanov sees what I am doing, but before he can react, I bring my hands to the middle in a sharp motion. This attack is meant to be used when you are getting tired or have a stronger opponent, both of which apply to my situation.

Mr.Ivanov is harshly knocked back from this attack and gains his balance once more. Now that he taken a fair amount of hits, we trade advances and attacks. I evade his where as he dispels of mine, Mr.Ivanov has the advantage.

I use my energy and infuse it with a controlled ball of air. I send the attack hurling at my instructor, it meets its target. Adjusting to new or depleting energy is something that fire wielders are better at than any other elementals, so my attack caught my instructor off guard. Mr.Ivanov stands up straight and rolls his shoulders back, he adjusted far quicker than I thought he would.

I feel around for individual air atoms when I suddenly feel them being removed from where I am. I snap my gaze up to Mr.Ivanov to find him pulling away the air molecules from around me. I do my best to maintain hold of my composure as the oxygen from around me dwindles.

I am no match for an air master's strength, for I am just a first year. I take one large breath of air as the last of the air molecules are pulled away from me. I know that moving to a spot with higher density air would prove futile because Mr.Ivanov would replicate his actions, following my figure. At most, I have 1 minute and seven seconds left before I black out.

'I mustn't panic. I have to remain calm, no worries.' I chant in my head. I try to harness the air molecules from around Mr.Ivanov and use them against him, but I quickly stop when I find myself losing energy. I am slightly panicking because we have never gone over what to do in this situation and I am getting slightly nauseous. I feel my knees hit the ground before I register that my body has fallen. Twenty three seconds left. With the last of my energy, I do my best to will the air to me, but once again, Mr.Ivanov simply renders my abilities useless. Just as I feel myself hit peak of dizziness, I submit my defeat to my instructor.

My arms fall out from under me as air fills my lungs. I violently cough and gasp for air as I attempt to get used to breathing again. My eyes are wide and my heart races, that is a feeling I never again want to experience.

My body lays on the ground as my rationality returns to me. I stabilize my breathing and move to a sitting position. I bow my head respectfully to Mr.Ivanov before I close my eyes. I feel around for the air molecules only to find them in the exact spots they were before Mr.Ivanov's final attack. I open my eyes again to find my instructor analyzing me, as he does every time I meditate.

"Вы дрались до последнего момента, молодец." He doesn't wait for a response before heading out of the arena. [ T : You fought until the last moment, well done. ]

I suck in a large breath of air, thankful that the fight is over. If it is at all possible, I am even more exhausted than before. I slowly raise myself off of the ground when I see Mr.Barden enter the arena. I stretch out my arms for a few brief seconds before taking my stance.

I am immediately dodging the array of snow coming at me. I utilize the humidity of the air to form my attacks, then I will rely on the melting water from the snow if that is not enough. With all of my training, pulling the water out of the air is as easy as running a mile.

I form a whip of water extending from my sides. I move the whips so that they shield me from my instructor's attacks but will also advance against him. I lash Mr.Barden for a third time before I am forced to move from my position. The cause? Arrows made of pure ice.

I pick up the ice weapon from where it struck the ground and hurl it at my teacher. I throw it just as I would as if it were a knife. Mr.Barden is prepared for this as he dispels it, but not before the weapon grazes his arm.

We trade advances and attacks, my efforts not meeting up to the talents of a master. I clench my jaw and gather any water within the arena that I can grasp. With this, I create a diversion. I send a large wave of water towards my instructor. As expected, he easily avoids my attack. What he doesn't suspect is that I bring the water back form behind him to attack with instead. Because this is his blind side, Mr.Barden is knocked over harshly when I pull the water back the way it came. I use this time where he is distracted to put use to the water I stored aside. I attack with all I have to give, Mr.Barden narrowly being able to keep up.

The battle is suspenseful, all of the students and teachers wondering if I will be able to defeat the master. Mr.Barden resumes with his ice weapons, they all breaking into pieces when I dodge their range. An idea pops into my head that may or may not contribute to my ultimate victory.

I use the little water left in the air to make balls of water, the shattered pieces of ice floating within them. I check the three balls of water at my instructor at the same time a boulder of snow forces me back. I can't see what has happened, for I can hardly breath. I forgot how bad this hurts.

I turn to face my instructor while laying down. I am astonished to see that he too is on the ground, clutching his bleeding wounds. The ice shards worked, unpredictable and practically invisible within the water until it was too late. With neither of us able to resume the battle, the outcome is a tie.

I heave myself off of the floor and almost fall right back down. I stand up straight once a wave of dizziness passes over to walk towards my instructor. I bow down to him when I reach his position on the floor and offer him a hand. He takes it and I pull him up by putting my weight into my legs. Mr.Barden gives me a proud look, accompanied with a nod.

"You are very resourceful, never lose that." He tells me.

"Thank you sir." I respond respectfully. Leaving me behind with a nod, Mr.Barden exits the arena, only to be replaced by Mr.Jacobs. With an inaudible sigh, I walk back to the middle of the arena.

The thing is, the element of fire is the most difficult for me. I have not made nearly as much progress with it as I have for my other abilities. Both of my instructors find it odd why I have the principles of fire manipulation down, but am unable to extend it further than that. Mr.Jacobs gave me a book of all the great fire elementals to ease my worries.

The reason he did this is because almost every single one of The Greats took longer than the average person to get fire manipulation right, but they still were farther along than I. That is why when fire manipulators master their element, they are usually older, taking more time to hone in on their skills and master the main subelements as well.

I take my stance, knowing that I will be defeated but will try my best anyway. I will the fire from the torches to me without any problem, it is the controlling of it for an extended amount of time that troubles me.

I use the fire and split it into four flames. I hurl the attacks at my instructor with an unpredictable pattern. Because fire masters take the longest to learn and develop their skills, they are more capable of adapting to change within a battle or expecting an attack. Mr.Jacobs easily dispels of the flame and propels fire out of thin air from his two outstretched hands.

I narrowly avoid the attacks meanwhile copying Mr.Jacobs' energy output to manage a stream of fire back at him. He uses my own attack against me by adding more fire to the advance and propelling it my way. He knows that my fire manipulations are unstable at best when working with larger flames, so I oppose the attack by dropping to the floor and rolling out of the way.

Not even two minutes later in the battle and I am grazed with burn marks and am closer than ever to passing out. My energy is depleting and because fire is my weakest element, also coincidentally being the one that requires the most energy to manage, I am worn out. Fire balls have come my way. A wall of fire has attempted to trap me in. I have been encased in the smoke created by the flames my instructor is skilled with. I am fighting a losing battle.

I gather up what little energy I have left and weakly attack my instructor with all I have to give. If I am going to fail, I will not do so without giving up a fight worth watching. I send a fast sweep of fire below his shins, utilizing the torches and rising smoke to temporarily disable Mr.Jacobs enough to give me time to think, or even recuperate.

My plan does not execute, my teacher already suspecting my last attempts. I gasp for air as the smoke surrounds me, my figure swaying with my feet still planted in the ground. I violently cough, all of the much needed air not being the kind I need in my system. Not wanting soot to form in my lungs, I submit to my instructor. Just as I brace myself to fall on the ground, I am caught in someone's arms.

"You are in need of improving." Mr.Jacobs tells me, he the one who caught me. I hold onto his bare biceps and steady myself on my feet. I nod in response, but slightly smile to lighten the situation.

"You are all sweaty." I joke with him. My instructor rolls his eyes and lightheartedly pushes me away. Momentarily forgetting my state of exhaustion, I fall to the ground from the force. I can hear the inappropriate curses Mr.Jacobs mutters at my lack of seriousness due to my enhanced hearing. But, I am too tired to give a care. I lay atop the dirt floor, my chest rapidly rising and falling continuously to regain its natural tempo.

"Well done. You have one minute to prepare for your dragon taming test." Headmaster Jackson's voice booms in the arena. This I am fairly confident with, so I take a deep breath of relief. I look up at the arena itself, observing how the structure looks like a wired cage that is meant to fit acres of land.

I am slowly lifting myself onto my feet when the breath is knocked out of me. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breath just a single time. To anyone in the stands, it may look like I fainted, but I know that is not true. This feeling is painful in a way, ten times more present than the last time I felt this way. But, the last time I remotely felt this way was in Europe .... with the shadows. Something is wrong. Fourteen seconds before the tunnel opens.

"Don't open the tunnel." I croak out, knowing that all of the dragon riders will be able to hear me. I hear hushed whispers spread.

"Something isn't right." I can hear Lucas's voice more clearly among the others.

"Get me out of here now." I gasp out. Just as I see Headmaster about to get out of his seat, the tunnel is opened. I let out a whimper and try to raise myself once again. I can't breathe. My lungs are burning. Black dots line my vision. With everything I have left, I raise to my two feet and do my best to reach the arena gates. I am too late. I crash to the floor cradling my torso. Only now can I feel it as if it were tracing my skin. The evil.

I hear gasps sound from the student body. I can register many shouts to open the arena gates, others dashing out of the arena as a whole. This must be bad. Suddenly, the atmosphere of the arena stills. The feeling finally retreats, allowing me to regain my senses for the time being. I sit up and am forced back by a sharp edge. I look up to the creature only for my face to pale. A shadow dragon.

They are known to be the most dangerous sort of breeds because they have no morals, only fulfilling life to the bids of their master. Their saliva is poisonous as well as contain venom on their talons if your skin is punctured. They can only be summoned by necromancers and are the same shade of translucent like black as the shadowed figures I encountered weeks prior. I gaze into the pitch black eyes of the dragon, only seeing the dark depths of which his eyes travel. The talon holds down my chest as the dragon snarls at me sadistically.

'I love you my dragons.' I tell my companions before blocking off my emotions. Whatever is about to occur, I do not want for any of my connections to experience it.

I feel a strong tugging at the back of my mind. The shadow dragon wants to speak to me. I keep my face blank as my body betrays me and trembles in fright. The dragon lets out a low sounding growl and drags his talon across my shoulder.

He suddenly pierces it, his sharp talon going through my shoulder and brushing the ground of which I lay on. An ear piercing scream escapes my lips as a fire erupts throughout my body. The feeling multiplies as every second passes, leaving me in utter agony. I can tell that the talon has been retracted, but now a course texture runs itself over my wound. If I thought the torture from before was bad, I could have never been prepared for what I was about to face. My heart leaps out of my chest as pain filled screams sound the quiet place. My screams.

My head feels fuzzy and I am hardly able to see anything cross my vision. Thank the goddesses for having mercy, for I lose conscious from the amount of pain my body is undergoing. My entire world goes black.

Before I know it, I gasp awake from my state. Much to my confusion, I am left in a pitch black surrounding feeling entirely fine. The only translucent outline I can see is ..... mine. I am convulsing as a black color replaces the greenish shade my veins used to be. I see outlines of other people surrounding me, lifting up my head and checking my breathing. How is it that I can see outside of my body?

'You must be very confused Princess Vera.' An extremely dark and raspy voice says from all around me. I whip my head in all directions, trying to locate the origin of the voice.

'You will not see me, for I am now apart of you.' The voice informs me. I momentarily still, looking back at the image of my now black veins.

'What is going on?' I mentally question first, knowing that I must not be conscious in my actual state of reality.

'Princess Vera, or shall I say Master, I have been sent by The Queen to inform you of your ancestors in hopes you come home.' The voice says vaguely. 'To say it outright, you are one of the two remaining children of the only living purebred necromancer.' The voice tells. I stay silent, part of me in shock and the other part of me dying to know about my biological family.

'I will not get into the details of your family, but The Queen is your biological mother. She is the sole daughter of the only necromancer ancestral line. Your and your brother possess the ability to raise souls from the undead. Prince Vincent has been training since much younger, but having recently discovered your existence, The Queen feels it best for you to return home. She was my Master, but now my soul belongs with you.' This catches my attention.

'The venom laced on my talons along with my poisonous saliva would be enough to kill a perfectly healthy adult male. With necromancer blood running through your veins, this is an ancestral pact that binds me to you while activating the abilities lying dormant in your cells. Both your mother, sister, and brother have undergone this fusion. Your elder sister was weak, pathetic, she died within a few minutes of Phase Two.' I feel as if the air has been knocked out of me. I have a sister? Had.

'The principles of necromancy are a trinity. Evil, Blood, and Death. The Queen belongs to Death. She craves the kill, the quantity of dead souls. The more souls that die with dark thoughts makes her more powerful. Prince Vincent belongs to Evil. The darker the thoughts, the increasing intensity of Evil, the more powerful he is. You, my Master, belong to Blood. It is the most sadistic. The sight of blood will drive you into a frenzy, you will hurt those you love and strangers as well to soak in your ecstasy. You have the most potential, but you also have a greater chance of driving yourself to insanity. I am here to assist you with your urges. To guide you to indulge in the feeling. The more blood one bleeds in your presence, the stronger the smell, the more powerful you will be. Any questions?' My world is flipped upside down.

'But I am not evil whatsoever.' I convey.

'Yes. This is why The Queen was confused. You have the purest aura I have witnessed, but have evil coursing through your very veins. You have the most sadistic principle, but seem as if you have fairly good control over your emotions.' The voice does not help answer my confusion. I move onto my next question.

'How is this possible?' I ask. I could be breaking down, I could doubt myself, but I truly want to understand my predicament.

'I have been sent by The Queen because she believes that we have similar resting power levels. She was unsure because she could not get a good read, but with me being bonded to you, it means that you are powerful regardless of your potential. The fusion process is rigorous and very painful, only the strongest survive it. We are currently in our subconscious states. My DNA is being mixed with your blood, binding me to you and thus creating black veins.' He tells me.

'What is your name?' I question, still grasping the idea of me being bonded to an evil soul.

'I do not have a name Master.' He answers me. I don't have to think for a brief second before replying.

'I will acknowledge you as Azrael.' I tell the shadow.

'Angel of Death. Very wise Princess.' Azrael responds to me. I stay quiet, realizing why the shadows notice me as Princess. My mother is The Queen, their original Master.

'I do not want to abuse this power of mine.' I confess to the dragon. A snarling sound rings in my ears.

'You can be great, the next Queen and you choose to ignore your destiny.' Azrael refutes.

'My destiny is what I shape it to be. How do my abilities work anyway?' I ask, beginning to get annoyed with this entire situation. What are the odds that I am 50% evil?

'It is complicated.' Azrael starts off, ignoring his hatred for the kindness of my heart. 'You belong to Blood. You crave it, lust after it. The sight of it will send this feeling of pure bliss down to your very bones, urging you to do whatever it takes for it to increase. The smell of blood will drive you into a frenzy, a panic driven state to where you will hurt anyone to the point of no return to get your daily dose of it. The more blood that is shed, the messier it becomes, the more powerful you will be. You crave any sign of weakness and will take advantage of it. Whereas Prince Vincent will be attracted to Evil, he is only able to experience his joy with those he raises or has grown up alongside with. The Queen craves the kill, dangerous yet efficient. The more people that die in her presence or are killed by her hand increases her power. She will snap a neck to experience her bliss, you will carve your name into their skin to feel yours. It is an honor to be chosen by Blood.' I sense that Azrael speaks with pride.

'You say you are indebted to me, I am your Master. Will other shadows follow me? How does that play out?' I ask. There is much I do not know about the evil that lurks in our world. Though, in my defense, I would have never imagined being put in this situation.

'All necromancers have the ability to raise dark souls, The Queen will naturally be more gifted since she is purebred. We shadows call the riser our Master, though our loyalties may shift. If one is not involved in a blood pact, the shadow has the freedom to choose who to obey. If Prince Vincent loses the respect of his subjects, they will shift loyalties with one they want to obey. Evil is naturally attracted to its opposite, we want to taint the pure, hurt the innocent. I am surprised it took as long as it did to find you with how pure your intentions are. Although I am not in favor of your ways, with the right guidance, you can be very powerful due to your control.' Azrael tells me. I nod, then take a deep breath. This is a lot to absorb.

'It is.' The soul inputs. Since my thoughts are now joint with his, I have a feeling that side comments will be more frequent. This reminds me....

'What about my companions?' I ask.

'I am bonded to you, not your companions. You will be fairly the same, just with a constant voice in your head that only you can hear along with my forever insistence of trouble.' He tells me. Lovely. I notice the black starting to retreat from my veins, now seeping into my hair from my roots.

'This is Phase Two, the representation of our fusion. Prince Vincent's hair was a dull, pearly white color. It is now entirely black, showing how his Shadow Dragon fused into his being.' Azrael tells me. My eyes widen and slightly tear up, I love my hair the way it is. I glance back to my translucent figure and tilt my head confusedly.

'This shouldn't be happening.' Azrael's voice sounds. My hair is black and white. The left side of my hair is the same white color as before, the right side of my hair is now the same color as Azrael's eyes.



'What does this mean?' I think to myself.

'Your necromancer blood has been activated, that is what the black shows. No matter the color of your previous hair, it will always turn black to represent the darkness from within. This must mean that your aura remained pure. I just do not see how it is spiritually possible though. It is like having two personalities, you are an overall gracious person with a dark side. I guess this will work to your favor, Master.' My conjoint soul tries to explain. I accept his answer with thanks.

'Why did you thank me?' The soul questions curiously.

'You provided me a reasonable answer, so I thanked you.' I reply. I can sense Azrael accepting my words with a new feeling being portrayed. We sit in silence until Azrael goes more in depth about how our situation will work, how he will serve me till my dying breath and how I don't want to be obsessed with my newfound abilities. Azrael's voice grows fainter and fainter.

'You have completed Phase Three. I will be with you when you wake up.' I hear his dark and raspy voice tell me with a hint of giddiness. I am becoming more aware of the evil within me, the darkness that is present in my blood. My translucent figure fades into nothing, only I remain in my subconscious. A sore feeling begins tingling on the surface of my skin, my body must be waking up. I take a deep breath and close me eyes, ready to return to my messed up reality. This should be fun to explain.

TO BE CONTINUED ....

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