Rivals of Wand and Will
Inktober Day 20, “Rivals.” Two gifted students. Three trials. One throne. In the dungeon’s heart, they face the cost of power—and the true purpose behind their school’s deadly game.
The Labyrinth – Present
Blood dripped from Luc’s fingers, dotting the floor like ink from a cursed quill. The spell burn across his ribs throbbed with each breath. Across the dungeon floor, Takeshi staggered upright, one eye swollen shut, wand trembling in his grip.
“You left me to drown,” Takeshi growled.
“You left me to freeze!” Luc spat, wiping blood from his lip. “I could have died in that tower.”
They circled each other in the gloom, torchlight casting long shadows against the ancient walls. The stone maze coiled around them like a snake, each corridor leading deeper into madness. Screams echoed somewhere distant—no telling whether they were memories or ghosts.
Luc raised his wand. “If we don’t fight, we both lose.”
Takeshi matched his stance. “There will only be one loser, and it’s not me.”
Magic flared.
Fire and fury clashed.
And the air cracked as two friends became enemies.
The Day Before
The morning light slanted across the turrets of Caer Sgàilean, the legendary School of Advanced Wizardry. Students bustled between towers, spellbooks tucked under their arms, chatter and laughter filling the halls.
In the northeast turret, Luc Delacroix sat cross-legged on his bed, tracing runes in the air. His dark curls clung damp to his forehead despite the chill.
“Always last minute with you,” Takeshi said from the chair opposite. “You really think a few panicked runes are going to tip the scales now?”
Luc didn’t look up. “We’ve studied under the same masters. Learned the same spells. You don’t think one more insight could give me the edge?”
Takeshi’s hands moved with quiet precision as he wrapped the hilt of his wand in fresh cloth. “After everything we’ve been through, it’s not about insight anymore. It’s about who finishes stronger.”
Luc paused, the rune fizzling mid-air.
This wasn’t just another exam.
This was the final trial—the Grand Master’s final selection. Three tests. Two contenders. One would rise.
The other would go home.
Takeshi stood and tossed Luc his overcoat. “They’re waiting.”
Luc tried to grin, but it cracked somewhere between pride and fear. “Guess we’ll finally see who deserves it.”
Takeshi’s gaze didn’t waver. “If we’re late, neither of us will.”
A bell tolled. The tower groaned like an old beast stirring.
Luc rose and pulled on his coat. “Let’s find out.”
Trial One – The Depths of Loch Ness
Fog curled over the still surface of Loch Ness, thick as wool, swallowing the shoreline and muting every sound. The water reflected no sky, no sun. Only a dull gray shimmer over endless black depths.
Luc stood on the eastern bank, wand in hand, boots squelching in the mud. Takeshi was thirty paces to his left, near the twisted trunk of a fallen tree. Neither spoke. There was nothing left to say.
A low growl rumbled beneath the surface.
The loch erupted.
A monstrous head surged from the water, sleek, black-scaled, serpent-like. Its eyes locked on Luc as its body coiled behind it like a whip of nightmares.
Luc staggered back.
“Left side!” Takeshi shouted, already moving. “I’ve got you!”
He raised his wand and hurled a bolt of light toward the beast’s flanks. Luc followed with a fire whip. The serpent shrieked, writhing in pain, then dove beneath the surface.
Steam hissed off the water where it vanished.
They exhaled in tandem. Luc turned toward Takeshi, half-grinning.
And the second monster rose.
Broader, bulkier—armored in moss and barnacles, with tusks curling from either side of its jaw. It rose behind Takeshi like a tidal wave come to life.
“Takeshi!” Luc shouted.
The creature was fast.
Water exploded as it crashed onto the shore, rows of sharp teeth snapping. Takeshi fired two spells into its throat before it caught him in its jaws and dragged him screaming into the loch.
“Luc!” His voice broke the silence. “Help!”
Luc froze.
The first serpent had emerged from the depths again, circling just offshore, blood still streaking its snout. It hissed, watching him.
Luc’s heart pounded.
Takeshi thrashed, his wand lost to the depths. A hand broke the surface, reaching.
Luc took a step toward the water.
And stopped.
If he helped Takeshi, the other monster would certainly strike. If he lost focus, it would kill him. The challenge wasn’t teamwork. It never had been.
One winner.
One apprentice.
He turned back to face the serpent.
A flash of fire. A burst of light. The monster howled.
Luc pressed the attack—flame, force, fury—until the beast finally sank into the dark.
When he turned back, Takeshi had pulled himself onto the rocks, soaked, shivering, bloodied.
“You saw me,” Takeshi rasped. His voice was raw. “You let it take me.”
Luc had no answer.
The judges declared him the victor.
Takeshi didn’t speak to him again that night.
Trial Two – The Frozen Castle
The castle ruins loomed like broken teeth against the Highland sky. Crumbling stone, scorched ivy, windows hollowed out by time and wind. No vegetation. No color. Only mist curling low over the frozen ground.
Luc and Takeshi stepped through the shattered gate together, their boots crunching on frost.
Inside, the temperature dropped. Breath steamed, then vanished. The walls seemed to lean inward.
And then came the whispers.
Thin, clawing voices.
From the shadows, figures slid forward. Pale. Half-seen. Cold.
The first one brushed Luc’s shoulder. He staggered as if punched in the chest. His fingertips went numb.
“They’re draining us,” he muttered, backing away. “Heat, life, magic—everything.”
Another ghost passed through Takeshi’s arm. He cried out and nearly dropped his wand.
“We need to get out,” he gasped, voice trembling. “We’ll freeze to death in here.”
But the gate they’d entered through was gone. Only more stone, more mist, more cold.
They ran.
Hallways twisted. Ghosts drifted silently through walls. Each touch left them colder. Fingers stiff. Joints aching. Luc’s lips cracked. Takeshi’s eyes watered and froze.
Then suddenly, warmth.
They turned a corner and saw its source: a glowing orb hovering near the peak of a bell tower. Heat poured from it like a warm milk from a jug.
Takeshi shivered. “We have to reach it.”
Luc nodded, teeth chattering. “We won’t make it without it.”
But there was only one ladder inside the tower.
Old, narrow, like an afterthought.
“You go,” said Takeshi, “looks like you need it even more than I do.”
Luc grabbed it first, hands barely closing around the rungs. He began to climb. Slow, shaking, slipping once, catching himself. Halfway up, he felt the warmth growing stronger.
He smiled through chattering teeth. “I’ll bring it down to you,” he called over his shoulder. “Hold on.”
No answer.
He climbed higher. Almost there.
Then light streaked past the tower window.
Takeshi—on his broom—rising fast, arms outstretched.
He reached the orb first.
Luc froze, one hand on the final rung. He watched as Takeshi hovered there, cradling the glowing warmth like a flame cupped in his hands. The ice on his skin began to melt.
“I said I’d bring it down,” Luc shouted, voice ragged.
“I couldn’t wait,” Takeshi called back. “I thought you might fall.”
The tower creaked. Stone groaned.
And then it began to crumble.
Luc leapt clear just as the upper platform gave way, rolling onto the ground below in a burst of snow and splinters.
He lay still, gasping, frostbitten, burned by cold and betrayal.
Takeshi descended slowly, still holding the orb, warmth radiating around him like a halo.
This time, he was declared the victor.
Luc spent three days in the infirmary.
Trial Three – The Labyrinth
They ran through the maze like hunted beasts—spells crackling, curses echoing through stone.
“You betrayed my trust!” Luc shouted, voice hoarse.
Takeshi laughed bitterly. “Speak for yourself. I helped you fight that first sea monster!”
Luc turned a corner and nearly slipped on wet moss. Takeshi came after him, wand drawn, fury flickering in his eyes.
Behind them, doors slammed. Walls groaned. The labyrinth shifted.
It was alive. And it wanted blood.
They burst into a chamber carved deep into the earth. The air shimmered with heat, thick and unnatural, like the breath of a sleeping dragon. Gnarled roots snaked across the stone, coiling toward a throne grown from the base of a massive underground tree.
The tree loomed above them, its bark black and slick. Its leaves shimmered like oil, dark and gleaming, rustling in air that did not move.
On the throne sat the Grand Master Wizard.
He smiled.
“Ah. My finest students. The last two standing.” His voice carried the weight of old magic. “Soon, one of you will take my place. Inherit my power. My authority. My will.”
Luc and Takeshi slowed, chests heaving, wands raised but wavering.
The Grand Master leaned forward. “But only one may rise.”
He extended a hand toward them.
“Kill your rival.”
Neither moved.
The Master’s smile twisted. “Ah… you’ve discovered you’re evenly matched. Let me offer you an advantage.”
He gestured upward to the tree.
“Each leaf holds a life. A student’s essence, stored and waiting. Pluck one, and its power becomes yours. Simple as that. Take their potential. Burn brighter.”
Luc stared at the rustling canopy. Hundreds of black leaves shimmered, each a quiet, terrible promise.
“I’m not stealing lives to save my own,” he said quietly.
“Innocent?” The Grand Master chuckled. “They’d slit each other’s throats to be here. Don’t flatter them. This is natural selection. This is the final trial. The strong ascend. The weak become fuel.”
Luc looked at Takeshi—at the cuts, the bruises. At the fire still flickering in his friend’s eyes.
The boy who had left him in the tower.
The boy he had left to drown.
His wand trembled. Not from rage, but from something deeper. Regret. Shame. Clarity.
He didn’t raise it.
Takeshi looked back. Their eyes met.
No words. Just understanding.
He lowered his wand too.
They turned from the throne. From the Master. From the tree.
And walked away.
The Grand Master rose from the throne, power coiled beneath every movement.
“So be it,” he hissed. “If you won’t choose, then I will.”
Lightning cracked from his staff, tearing the floor apart.
Luc shoved Takeshi aside as the blast struck. Together, they dove into the roots of the labyrinth, fleeing the throne behind them, pursued by fury and flame.
The Courtyard
They burst into the moonlit courtyard, spells clashing behind them. The rest of the school was already there—hundreds of students in black and silver, silent, waiting.
Luc stumbled to a stop, breath ragged. “He made us fight. Made us bleed. Forced us to the edge.”
“We thought the final trial was about beating each other,” Takeshi said, voice rising. “But it wasn’t. It was about proving we were willing to kill you to win.”
Murmurs stirred at the edges of the crowd.
Luc stepped forward. “He told us you were weak. That your lives were his to give away.”
“He wanted us to take your lives,” Takeshi said. “He wanted to see if we’d burn everything just to sit on that throne.”
The Grand Master stepped into the light, robes trailing behind him. He smiled like a man who had seen this all before.
“Tell them the truth,” he said. “Tell them you hesitated. That you failed.”
Takeshi raised his wand and pointed it straight at the Grand Master.
“We were friends. He turned us into enemies. Into weapons. Is that what you want to be?”
Silence.
Then came the laughter.
Low. Cruel. It spread like a sickness.
One by one, the students raised their wands—aimed not at the Master.
But at them.
Luc’s expression shattered. “They knew.”
Takeshi’s jaw clenched. “They chose him.”
The Grand Master didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.
“Kill them.”
The air split with spells.
Epilogue
What happened next, no one agrees on.
Some say they died that night. Two fools standing against an empire built on fear and anger.
Others whisper that they escaped into the Highlands, wounded but alive, and that their magic still flickers in hidden places far from the school’s reach.
A few believe they’ll return one day. Not as rivals.
But as rebels.
That was crazy! I was wondering how it would end. Didn’t expect that.