Blazewrath Games

When Regulars first discovered the magical community in 1743, reactions were mixed. There were those who feared the rise of an oppressive regime, but with the bureau’s numerous efforts to create all-inclusive policies, these fears were assuaged. Magical-history and dragon-studies classes became mandatory in the Regular educational system, along with more dedicated magical-study programs at the university level. Regulars could study and work alongside magic users. However, it would be unwise for Regulars to believe there are no more secrets being kept from them. Of course, we still have secrets. So do dragons. I suspect theirs are much more exciting.

—Excerpt from Edna Clarke’s Magical History for Regulars, Twelfth Edition

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“I’M FINALLY LIVING MY DREAM OF REENACTING AN EPISODE OF Law & Order: Magical Crimes Unit, but without the car chases and sexual tension.” Samira zooms her phone’s camera in on her silly grin, then zooms out to show the box of Kleenex and the new Copper wand resting on her lap. Her wand is a little thicker than her previous victim, lacking any other adornments.

“What time’s Director Sandhar picking you up?” I’m lying in bed with my phone aimed overhead. Everyone else is at the habitat or the gym while I’m seizing my chance to talk to Samira before she disappears to a mysterious location courtesy of the bureau.

“He told Mom he’d be here in an hour, but there are a couple of agents stationed outside my house.” Samira grins even harder. “I’m going to a hideout, girl.”

“Not really. Daddy and Shay aren’t too happy with just up and leaving everything, but they understand why it’s important.” Samira blows her stuffy nose. “Hopefully, this hideout will have healing powers and get rid of this dang cold already.”

“Oh, they were, but the cold came back out of nowhere like an undead creature. Zombie colds are the worst.” She turns serious all of a sudden. “You should know I’m absolutely terrified for you. You’ve poked a really dangerous bear, Lana, and you still haven’t told me why.”

“Don’t worry. What matters is you and your family will be safe. The bureau’s done an excellent job at hiding the Fire Drake. It’ll do an excellent job at hiding all of you.”

“Yep.” Samira wiggles her eyebrows. “Can we talk about dragons now? I don’t know how much time I’ve got left here.”

Samira runs to the dry-erase board on her bedroom wall, grabs her blue marker, and taps a list scribbled in the center. “Behold!”

Regeneration

Body

Magic

Blood

I don’t see any correlation between those words. “So, what’s your theory?”

“What happens if you cut off one of the nine heads on a Hydra?” Samira says.

Samira taps the word REGENERATION on the board. “Hydras are the only dragon species that can restore their bodies after a serious injury. They can regenerate in no time.”

“Oh, I don’t think the Hydra’s a soldier. You were onto something.” Samira flips the phone back to herself. “It hasn’t been seen by the Sire’s side since the Athens attack, has it?”

“Well, they claim it as a prize after battle. Others just leave it behind as a scare tactic.”

“And what else?” Samira waits in vain for me to speak, but I’m drawing a blank. She sighs in frustration. “What did we learn about, like, one percent of Pluma de Muertes in our dragon-studies class? Specifically in regard to the sound they use for bone removal?”

Samira taps the word BODY on her board. “The Pluma de Muerte creates. The Hydra restores. All these years, the bureau thought—”

“Ms. Jones? This is Agent Sienna Horowitz with the bureau. We’ve come to escort you to your new living quarters. Are you set for Transport?”

“Just a minute!” Samira power-erases everything on the board. When her words are gone, she says, “Stay safe, and keep your guard up at all times!”

After we hang up, I’m still racking my brain for what Samira’s theory could be. The Pluma de Muerte creates. The Hydra restores. She’d been seconds away from saying something about the bureau, but what do they have to do with these dragons’ powers? And how do these powers benefit the Sire? He’s immortal, so the Hydra’s regeneration is useless. Same goes for the Pluma de Muerte’s ability. The Sire doesn’t need human flesh.

Edward Barnes used his blood to create his curse. His magic as a Gold Wand had made the spell possible. And he’d forced the Sire into a human body that can regenerate.

The Sire doesn’t need these dragons as soldiers. He needs them as ingredients.

Time slows to a stop. I’m in some sort of other dimension, where I’m getting punched to the core endlessly. Of course the Sire would want to become a dragon again. It never occurred to me it would actually be possible. The Sire freed those dragons so he could manipulate them. He risked everything to spring them from their sanctuaries. Now they owe him.

He can’t have Barnes’s blood to complete his spell. Barnes doesn’t have any family left.

I think Takeshi needed to bring the crystal heart to a Gold Wand working for the Sire, Samira told me right after the Waxbyrne incident. Maybe they’re strong enough to force the heart to perform magic. What if the wish granted by the Fire Drake’s crystal heart was never intended for Takeshi? Could the wish’s power replace the blood needed to break Barnes’s curse? Randall seems a whole lot stronger than Barnes ever was. He could be strong enough to bend the heart to his will. He’s the Sire’s magic for the counter curse.

I sigh in relief. He’s never getting it. Just like he’s never finding my loved ones.

He’s not answering. He doesn’t reply to my texts, either. For a split second, I start breathing a little faster, then I remind myself he could be with the bureau already. I’m obviously not calling Todd. He’s probably going to the same hideout as Mom, seeing as Todd’s a minor.

I shouldn’t do this, but the least I can do is let her know I really do want her to stay safe. I dial my mother’s number before I can regret it.

She doesn’t pick up, either. I try four more times. Nothing. That could just mean she’s busy moving to her hideout. It could also mean she’s refusing to talk to me. As understandable as that is, she really can’t drop her ego for just one second? Is she still that pissed at me? Whatever.

I take my phone to the gym, where I hope to forget about hearts and gold for a few hours.

HISTORICALLY SPEAKING, BLAZEWRATH QUARTERFINALS ARE where the most upsets occur.

My favorite one is still Venezuela versus Ireland in 1973. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched that match on BlazeReel. European teams remained the popular choice to move on to the semifinals, even though Venezuela’s upcoming debut was as talked about as my team’s. But the Irish Spikes had been no match for the Furia Rojas. This dragon species can eject spears from their bloodred tails. These weapons are as sharp as they’re fast, capable of piercing through any Regular or magical material. By the time Colin McGrath, the Irish Runner, had entered the first Block Zone, half of it had been demolished.

But the biggest quarterfinals upset to date is the 2013 Japan versus France match. Takeshi’s debut had drummed up some excitement, seeing as he’s the youngest dragon rider to have Bonded with his steed, but it was Hikaru who stole the show. It took him ten and a half seconds to reach the goalpost. That’s the fastest dragon to fly in a Cup match on record. Takeshi scored a second later. Haya Tanaka, the Japanese Runner—or as everyone calls her, the Ghost of Shibuya—unleashed the winning stream of flames in ten minutes. The French Blockers couldn’t catch her.

Everybody’s A-game is kicked up a thousand notches during quarterfinals. I don’t think this year will be any different. The teams moving on have been divided like so:

GROUP D

Argentina versus France

GROUP C

Venezuela versus Sweden

GROUP

B Scotland versus Egypt

GROUP

A Puerto Rico versus Zimbabwe

“You’ll advance to the next round,” President Turner tells us in our greenroom.

“We will,” Victoria says. She’s as pleasant as a thunderstorm on a beach day.

President Turner nods. “But if you don’t, the Sire will order your deaths by burning.”

Everybody but Victoria is slack jawed. She looks at President Turner as if the thought of us losing a match is the most outlandish thing she’s ever heard.

“Oh, we understand it quite well,” Gabriela says. She’s hugging Edwin and Génesis with her head down. “We’re going to win.”

My teammates put their hands on top of one another and pretend to be enthusiastic about what’s about to go down. I can’t tell if ordering us to win again means the Sire is happy with me. He hasn’t summoned me again. He hasn’t burned anything since the Cup started. President Turner hasn’t been tripping or shaking. My friends and family have been safely delivered to Director Sandhar’s secret lodgings. Samira and her family are together. Mom and Todd are together somewhere else. Papi is alone. Director Sandhar said he had put up a fight, pleading to stay with the Pesadelos. He’s reportedly livid with me, but he’s safe. That’s what matters.

We get called out to the field before Zimbabwe. I’m at the back of the line, marching on the sand with the rest of my teammates. The Sol de Noches fly out faster than they did during our Russia match. Maybe because there are triple the amount of Puerto Rican flags today. With each dragon’s roar, the flags get higher and higher, raised to the skies as an offering of hope and pride.

“Put your hands together for the first African team to compete in the Blazewrath World Cup! This is their fourth time in the tournament! Let’s hear it for Zimbabwe!”

Six girls and one boy hit the field. They’re all dressed in their bright-red leather suits, their golden chest plates and helms. Onesa is the first to walk out. Aneni Karonga, the team’s other Blocker, is right behind her. Wataida is second to last. The Pangolin dragons come out once their riders are halfway to the ref, flying in a synchronized, wavy line, showing off their wondrous wings and super-tough scales for the world to marvel at.

I make it to the starting line before Taona Mawere, the Zimbabwean Runner, gets to hers. This is off to a promising start. I just need Esperanza to Fade again and stop Zimbabwe from scoring first. We have to show the Sire what we’re made of. We have to win for Puerto Rico.

We have to win in order to live. I’m not about to screw up and get us all killed, least of all in a quarterfinals match. We’re staying alive, and we’re going down in history.

A frenzy of flapping wings, fireballs, and body slamming ensues. Wataida and his steed are careening toward Luis and Gabriela, forcing them to take turns pushing him back. The other Charger protects Kunashe from Esperanza’s attacks. She’s not Fading, though. She’s flying and fighting like any normal dragon. The Charger dragon shoves her back hard enough to clear Kunashe’s path to the goal. Héctor guides Titán down to block Kunashe’s shot, but the Pangolin pulls up suddenly, and Kunashe makes a quick toss.

“Kunashe scores!” Jeffrey Hines freaks out. “Zimbabwe runs up the mountain first!”

I stomp my foot on the sand. Esperanza could’ve easily Faded by now! Has she not read Victoria’s mind? Does she not know about us getting burned to death if we lose?!

Taona hits the mountain. Edwin and Génesis swarm her at once, but she’s a rocket.

I jump, fists high like a boxer who’s won the title belt. “Pass it to Victoria!”

Esperanza flies close enough for Victoria to fetch the Rock Flame, then shoots toward the opposite goalpost, where Gabriela is still fending off Wataida. Puya’s mouth is wide open in a roar. He clamps his teeth down on the Pangolin’s neck to prevent him from moving. As the Keeper dragon inches forward to help, Esperanza zooms by, faster than a bullet. Victoria is standing on her closed mouth. The Keeper dragon rushes to meet Esperanza halfway.

Before they collide, Esperanza blows out a cloud of fire onto Victoria’s back.

Victoria flies past the Keeper’s clutches. With a twist of her body, she tosses the Rock Flame through the goalpost.

I scream my head off. “YES!” Even though Taona’s already inside the first Block Zone, winning is in my hands now. I don’t have to count on anyone else to save us.

I get out of the base faster than I did during the Russia match. The Pangolin dragons are on me before I can take a breath. They’re assuming positions, one to the left, one to the right.

As I lunge at the wall, the Pangolins curl into balls, then crash into the mountain. This is their modus operandi—slamming their bodies like boulders sent straight from the underworld. I’ve been such a huge fan of this tactic for the past four Cups, but being on the receiving end has drained me of all the fangirling I’ve ever done.

The mountain quakes. I’m latching onto a rock that’s jutting out of the wall, but my boots keep sliding back. The edge is about three feet from me. If this rock slips out, I’m done for.

I’m thrown to the edge. Sinking my fingers into the sand, I strain every muscle in my arms while my lower body dangles off the side of the mountain. The Pangolins are hitting the mountain over and over. I’m slipping, grunting, and gasping for air.

My boots scrape stone without finding a good-enough hold, but I’m digging my fingers deeper into the sand, fighting for my teammates’ lives as much as mine. Losing isn’t an option. So I kick up, raise myself an inch, and repeat until I can drag myself forward. The mountain is still rocking as I land on the path. I break into a run, then make it to the first Block Zone.

I dodge her jab-and-upper-cut combo. She tries to grab the Iron Scale. I kick her in the shin. Even though she yelps, she’s not crumbling. She’s not getting out of the way, either. I launch a roundhouse kick to her gut. Aneni blocks it with both arms. As she holds my ankle, I drop to the ground, then sweep her feet with another kick. She’s down at once.

The earthquakes come back on the left side of the mountain. The dragon to my right is shooting fireballs at me instead. It’s a combination of super-unsteady ground and a super-hot shadow of death following me at every sharp turn. These Pangolins mean business.

Taona is racing up to the third Block Zone. She’s dodging Fantasma’s fireballs with ease.

I blast through the second Block Zone just as Aneni’s about to land inside it. I’m an unstoppable force, with even more speed than Haya Tanaka against the French Blockers in 2015. With an enraged cry, Aneni eats my dust. The quakes and the fire return on the way to the final Block Zone, where I’ll for sure meet Onesa instead. I’m pouring out more sweat, and my whole body’s throbbing even faster than it did the last time I ran this course. My gas is running low, but I don’t stop.

Onesa greets me inside the third Block Zone. “This is where your journey ends.”

I check the other mountain. Taona is also on the last Block Zone, facing Génesis. I have to get past Onesa right this second.

I rush toward Onesa, but she evades every blow. I even try faking her out with a double punch. She reads me before I can land a hit. She’s not lunging at the Iron Scale, which makes me think she’s tiring me out. And she’s not letting me gain a single inch forward, either.

Taona flips Génesis over her shoulder, launching her to the sand a few feet away.

“No!” I’m striking Onesa with as much power as possible, but she’s a human wall. Génesis gets back on Rayo while I’m trying to tear down the unbeatable Blocker before me.

“Folks, Puerto Rico’s dragons have disappeared from the stadium!” Jeffrey Hines announces. “They’ve Transported outside of—”

The dragons are back. Right where I last saw them—Blockers on Taona’s mountain, the rest hovering on the field, but they’re wrapped in flames from horns to tails. Even their riders are covered in fire. Esperanza roars first, then Titán, Rayo, Fantasma, Puya, and Daga join in a raging chorus. They’re ejecting flames from the sides of their bodies and connecting with one another until their flames form a circle. All six dragons are tied together in a broiling ring.

Taona isn’t moving. She’s transfixed by the ring of fire covering the field.

Onesa’s transfixed, too, gasping in awe. The Pangolins have also been lulled to a stop.

So I run out of the Block Zone instead. I fly up the final expanse of land, then slap the Iron Scale to the stone dais. Firelight beams up like a cannonball.

Panderetas, güiros, and drums go off from all sides of the stadium. People chant, “¡Puerto Rico!” like it’s a Top 40 hit.

The ring of fire fizzles out, and my teammates fly to my mountaintop. Victoria tackles me to the ground, screeching in wild abandon. The rest of my teammates raise their fists at the crowd, chanting “¡Puerto Rico!” but there’s restraint in their cheering, a forcefulness to their smiles. Maybe the ring of fire freaked them out. Or did something else spook them?

I have no idea what just happened. I know the Sire’s seen it, though. He threatened to burn us if we lost, but the only thing that burned today was a team of six dragons flaunting their power for the world to marvel at. They burned so we could live. Their magic is our salvation.