When our cart driver dropped us off at the front gate of the university, Bragda bounded out of the carriage and yanked me along behind her.

"I'm the first in the Ironfist line to study," Bragda said with a broad grin. "We made it, sis."

"I've been waiting for this day my whole life," I said.

Bragda extended both fists in triumph. "We're finally in the capital, studying at the best university in the Free World!"

A gaggle of perfectly coiffed initiates dressed in royal purple robes paraded past us. As they sauntered with their entourage of servants and vassals, they gave Bragda and me a snide look.

Royals.

They didn't even have any real political power to justify their arrogance or sense of entitlement. But that didn't keep them from snickering and pointing at us like we were trash.

I gave them a furious scowl. "What are you staring at?"

They gawked at each other, wide-eyed, before sneering at me. "Excuse me, peasant?"

"Hey, Frigid," one of the Princes said to me. "What's a celibate witch doing with a bearded heifer?"

"This heifer can chop off your head with one deft swing." Bragda grabbed her ax. "Call my sister a witch again, and I'll give your friends a demonstration."

"Sister?" The Prince screwed up his nose in disgust. "What kind of deviants were your parents?"

I narrowed my eyes at the Royal clique, and Bragda brandished her battle ax in their direction. By this time, we'd attracted a growing crowd of curious students.

"Yeah, get 'em!" a barbarian shouted.

The Royals provoked her as well with their laughter and catcalls. After a few enraged huffs, Bragda rushed towards them with a battle cry.

"Bragda, look out!"

Too late.

One of the Royal Wizards pointed her magic staff at Bragda and erected a gray, shimmering forcefield to protect the others. She couldn't stop in time and crashed into it head-first, falling onto her back with a grunt.

"Damn!" a fighter shouted from the crowd. "C'mon, get up! You got this!"

I raced towards my sister and helped her to her feet. "Are you hurt?"

Shaking her head, she readjusted her armor, ready to strike again as soon as the thrumming field vanished. Bragda had the constitution of an ox; nothing seemed to faze her.

The Wizard didn't even apologize to her. She simply cast me a wry smile and spoke to her fellow Royal without breaking eye contact with me.

"You see, my Prince, it's best not to mingle with the commoners."

That was the last straw. These fools thought they could say whatever they wanted to anyone and not pay the price. Not on my watch.

Bragda didn't have time to react. Once the forcefield had vanished, I held out my palm face up. Under my breath, I whispered, "Ice fire." The spell fooled the brain's pain receptors. It stung like a bee and burned like a flame upon impact, but it caused no permanent damage.

My sister grinned and stared in awe at blue flames shimmering in my palm.

"Get 'em, sis!"

I formed the energy into snowballs and chucked them at the Royals.

One of the Princesses cried out in shock as soon as the ice fire hit her. "It burns! The snow burns like fire!"

"Yeah!" A group of Barbarians and Fighters cheered. "Burn! Burn! Burn!"

The princess pranced around like a feline on catnip as she shook away the snow. Some of the Royals glared at me from afar, and I curled my lip.

Ha! It's Ms. Frigid to you.

"Damn, I didn't know you had it in you," Bragda said, clasping my shoulder. "Thanks, sis."

"They deserved it."

She gave me a playful jab with her elbow. "You know, it's not too late. You could trade in your white clerical ribbon for a red one and fight beside me in the Adventurer's Guild."

"Nah, I'm happy where I am."

"Suit yourself."

❄️🔥❄️🔥

We ambled towards a long line of students standing before the main stone archway, waiting to enter the arena for our ceremony. Once we were settled in line, my sister gave me a pointed look.

"Now that we're here, be honest with me, sis."

Here we go.

"You had another episode, didn't you?" she added.

"Not really..."

"Didn't you, Liselle?"

I gave her a nonchalant shrug. "I had a fisca."

"I knew it," Bragda hissed in a muted whisper. "You lied to me."

"I didn't want to worry you. Fiscas happen to Sorcerers in times of stress. It's just a nightmare."

"How can you be sure?"

"C'mon, sis. I can tell the difference between a fisca and a verita by now." I crossed my arms. "Rivers of fire swept across the horizon, and Halden was covered in ash. What's the likelihood of that happening to a peaceful farming village in the middle of nowhere?"

"Now that I think of it, that does sound like reality."

"Be serious!" I said, poking her playfully in the ribs with my elbow. "In another one, I saw machines far beyond our technology. I talked to a Rogue named Peter, whom I've never met in my life. It's just not real."

"Wait a damned minute," she growled under her breath. "How many visions have you had?"

Oh, crap.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. Tell me!"

I groaned and muttered under my breath, "Four."

Bragda's eyes took on that scary glare right before she began to rage. "Four visions? Fuck me to Hades!"

A family of Wizards turned and gave us sour glances, proudly displaying blue and white ribbons. Their mother pursed her lips. "Language, please!"

"How in Hades am I going to help you if you have another fit?" Bragda snatched a seating plan from one of the greeters. "You have to sit here with the Healers, and I sit all the way over here with the Fighter initiates."

My stomach churned with nerves. "It'll be fine."

Just be brave, Liselle. You got this.

With a slow and steady exhale, I held up my wrist and pointed at the silver medical wristband. "If I collapse, people will know what to do."

Just as Bragda was about to give me a major telling off, a strong man shoved me into Bragda to cut in front of the family behind us. Truth be told, I was glad of the distraction.

"Hey, dumb-ass!" Bragda said. "Watch where you're going!"

I whipped around to face him. "Excuse me, but--"

My words caught in my throat. I gazed up at the figure towering a cubit above me. His aura cast an intimidating shadow that made everyone take a wary step away from him, including me.

That wasn't what made me cringe, though. That wasn't why my heart clamored to escape.

It was Peter.

The man from my fisca.

No, this can't be real.

And yet there he stood with his arms crossed, dressed in the same roguish black leather armor he'd worn in my visions. Military garb. He wore the standard Militia haircut, his dark hair standing at attention like tiny boar bristles on a brush.

This man didn't just resemble Peter. He had the same square forehead with the same small scar on his right temple.

Is this another vision? No, it can't be. Before a vision, I always fall through time.

This is real.

"Stop staring," the Rogue commanded.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, wide-eyed. "How did you find me?"

"What's your problem?" he retorted with a glare. "I'm here for the Induction Ceremony."

That clinched it for me. Those eyes. As they bore into mine, they glinted like steel in the midday sun. A bluish-gray shade so intense that it barely seemed human. Only Peter had eyes that fierce.

I pointed at his lapel with three gold bars. "You're clearly a third-year student, not a first-year."

"I'm here to support a friend."

Narrowing my eyes, I pointed at the sheathed weapon hanging by his side.

"With a dagger?"

"Do I even know you? Turn around and mind your own business."

When I faced forward, I felt the blood drain from my face. Bragda turned to me and furrowed her brow. "Are you okay? Do you know him?"

"That's Peter, the man from my fisca," I whispered. "He's a Rogue, and he's armed."

"An armed Rogue? Here?"

"Look for yourself."

Without another word, Bragda turned around, and her eyes widened at his blatant weapon. She grabbed Peter's arm. "Hey! Get to the back of the line like everyone else."

Peter squared his shoulders and grabbed her wrist. "Or what?"

Bragda drew him closer. "Or I'll drag you there by your balls."

"Dwarf, don't make the mistake of thinking you can order me around."

"Then don't harass my sister."

I expected him to be intimidated, but Peter seemed amused as he pulled back from her, rocking back and forth on his heels with his arms crossed. He patted his dagger and curled his lip.

"I'm staying right here."

Bragda ripped off her blood-red Fighter robes and tossed them to the ground, revealing her spiked leather armor. The people in line began to retreat in earnest from the squabbling pair.

"Why they let Fighters and Rogues study with the rest of us is beyond me," I heard one Wizard murmur to her Sorcerer friend in disdain.

"Just give the Guards your weapon," I said, "and go to the back of the line. We don't want any trouble."

"I'm armed to protect you," Peter hissed in my ear. "I can't do that from way back there."

"Are you crazy? You don't even know me!"

"You're not the only clairvoyant." He curled his lip. "Now call off your sister before you cause a scene."

Two massive Human Barbarian guards barrelled towards us with truncheons at the ready.

"Hey, break it up! Break it up!"

"Now you've done it."

"What's the meaning of this?" a Master Fighter said in a gruff tone.

Everyone formed a semicircle around us, watching the fight from a distance. With my hands up in the air, I backed away from the spectacle and joined the rest of the onlookers.

The whole time Peter had an expression of calm amusement. He raised his hands in surrender, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. "I'm just going to show you my ID, Master Fighter. Agreed?"

The Dwarf gave him a curt nod. Peter reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a black leather badge. Embossed in the center of the worn fabric was a single red flame surrounded by a red circle, which he displayed to all the spectators as well.

A collective gasp swept over us. Everyone--the guards included--backed away from him.

He belonged to the Defenders of the Flame. Special Ops. Deadly and powerful elite guards.

Could he be telling the truth? If so, why did he need to protect me?

I had no enemies, no money, and no power except unreliable clairvoyance. Who would want anything from me?

"Holy Hades," Bragda breathed, wide-eyed. "You're a Defender?"

Peter gave the patrol of Fighters a wry smile as they retreated from him with shocked expressions.

"I'm sorry, Defender Sardon," the Master Fighter said.

"Quite all right," Peter replied with a disingenuous smile as he returned the ID to his chest pocket. "You're only doing your jobs. Now, let's continue with the Ceremony, shall we?"

People slowly edged back into line but continued to give the three of us a wide berth. After I'd made sure that Bragda was unscathed, I scowled at Peter, who leveled me with his icy gray stare.

"Glare at me all you want," he said. "I'm staying right here so that you don't come to harm."

We eyed each other for a few moments until I finally broke the silence. "Why are you--?"

"The less you know, the better," he said in a curt tone, cutting me off. He gestured towards the main gates. "Keep walking. The line's moving."

I snorted in derision and wrapped my arm around Bragda's shoulder before giving him one last scowl. Wouldn't he be stealthier if he'd had Defender training? The ID had to be fake.

"Your vision included a Defender?" Bragda whispered in my ear.

"Yes."

"Damn, sis. Be careful, will ya? No one screws with a Defender and lives to tell the tale."

"Yeah, I don't trust him."

Peter gave a wry chuckle behind me.