Broomstick crouched in the stands and stared wide eyed at the sparring below, full of new recruits freshly hypnotized by the Dragon Prince. A short distance away, Blade, a girl who had lived down the hall from Fairy and Spirit, summoned gravel from the arena floor and formed it into giant axes and battering rams. Her hold on ryuu magic faltered every now and then, and the weapons would disintegrate into gravel again, but she kept at it, sweat dripping in rivulets down her face.

Near her, eleven-year-old Quicksand was enhancing typical taiga spells to make them better.

“Gods, no,” Broomstick whispered. He was Quicksand’s mentor in the school’s Exemplar Program, which paired young students with older ones they could look up to. Broomstick had known Quicksand when he was a tenderfoot still called Wyato, because he was too young for a taiga name.

Now Quicksand was learning to be one of Prince Gin’s foot soldiers, sprinting back and forth from one side of the arena to the other like a cheetah spell sped up by a factor of ten. Broomstick barely managed to keep himself concealed because he wanted to jump out and grab the boy, to try to shake the mind control out of his head and save him from the ryuu.

Then Broomstick saw Philosopher, his lab partner from physics class, working on digging tunnels in the ground without the use of mudras or chants. And Summer, the girl who worked at the desk next to Broomstick’s in the Society’s administrative offices, held her hands out in front of her as two small tornados appeared in her palms.

Outrage rose in Broomstick’s belly. These were their friends, students Broomstick had spent his entire life with, who had played with blocks with him when they were tenderfoots, who’d tried to ski down the Citadel rooftops in winter when they were Level 7s, and who stayed up late helping each other study every spring for final exams. They had lived and breathed the Society of Taigas’ centuries-old commitment to defend all that was good about Kichona, just like Broomstick did. Yet here they were, practicing a magic that would destroy the very kingdom they’d sworn to protect.

How dare Prince Gin steal their friends like this? And he was going to send them to war, to die for a cause they didn’t believe in and weren’t even aware they were a part of.

Broomstick sank against the bleachers.

The boy, Quicksand, tripped and skidded several yards in the gravel. Philosopher stopped the tunnel she was working on and ran over to help him up. “Are you all right?” she asked as she extended her hand.

Embarrassed, he nodded but didn’t look at her.