The Chosen

My forehead was laced with sweat after sparring with Edwin. He shook my hand as was permitted, and we glanced back at Professor Fernier for further instructions. Against my better judgment, I had snuck a look at him and Céline sparring, and like I had predicted, she won without even a tendril of hair mussed. For people like me who actually had to work to even get close to winning a duel, seeing Céline triumph effortlessly grated on my nerves.

Professor Fernier, who was breathing harder than usual, looked at proudly. “Excellent work! I am very impressed. As you may have noticed, Ms. Godrich did otherwise beat me to a pulp, but I would still like to have us switch partners! Therefore, I will have to take the next best prodigy in my class to go against the talented, Ms. Céline.” His eyes sifted through the heads in the class and fell upon mine. “Mr. Christopher! I would like you to duel with Céline, if you may.”

My jaw clenched together tightly, but I acquiesced with a nod of my head. Alexei continued, “As for the rest of you, pick partners! And Henry – yes, yes, I suppose you may pair with Mr. Cross. Ah, Ms. Halifax! I would be delighted to be your partner!” He grinned enthusiastically at the silent, almost skittish girl.

I turned my attention to Céline, who had a bemused look on her face as she regarded me. Almost intrigued, but somehow puzzled at the same time. I had a feeling she was reading my mind and that did not settle well with me. I gritted my teeth and took my place at the other end of the mat. “Should I take the defensive—?” She questioned, her eyes piercing into mine.

“No, you can take offensive.” I replied, my pride forcing her to be the one to begin.

She nodded, almost surprised, but then again, not so much. She was the first to curtsy, and I bowed in response. She stood tall with excellent posture, her hair slung over her right shoulder, hands at her sides. Before I knew it, her hands curled upwards until there was a glistening at her fingertips. I quickly decided to concentrate within me, trying to work up my compulsion with little or no hope. I had a very positive feeling it would end up in disappointment, but I had to try. My eyes flecked closed for a moment, and they reopened with a clear command written in my head.

Her eyes flashed up to mine, and for a moment she was startled. The glistening had extinguished in her fingertips, and the aura of power was fading from her. Her mouth was agape as she stared at me and my expression was similar. Had my compulsion actually worked on her? Working on my hypothesis, I momentarily took advantage of her falter. I enticed her to back up step after step, until she was hanging across the back of the mat, illegally out of bounds. There were rising voices of onlookers who noticed this fact with intrigue, and they whispered in hushed tones. Now clearly put on, her chin set stubbornly as she pushed back at my mental abuse. After moments of a mental fight for free will, I felt her break through. And once she did, she devastated my hold of compulsion over her. She frenzied on the release, and soon it was I who was on my back, illegally out of bounds.

I groaned; the back of my head plastered to the rich, blue mat. I continued to croak until I was sitting halfway up, the palms of my hands edged into the cushion. I looked across at where Céline was once standing, only to find her casting open the large, wooden doors, leaving the room in a flurry. Perplexed, I stared at the doors for seconds longer, repeating the scene that just occurred in my head once, then twice.

I had almost bested Céline Godrich.

What?

Professor Fernier had stopped his duel mid-swing and came over to rest beside me. “What happened, Nick?”

“I have no idea, sir.”