The Solstice Tournament

The long night had finally passed, filled with whispers of illegitimate children, forgotten loves, and ancient curses, but the rising sun did not care for the secrets of men or the pain they held in their chest.

Dawn broke over Sol Academy not with a gentle light, but with a roar because it was not just any other day. It was finally the long awaited moment when the two powers in the region would clash for superiority.

It was the day of the Solstice Tournament.

Over the past week, the austere grounds of the Academy had been transfigured in preparation for the tournament and in line with the Queen’s demands to adhere strictly to Japanese culture. Darkspire Kingdom was a colony conquered by the Japanese only a few decades prior and , as such, the royalty spared no chance to integrate the culture within important events such as this one. It was their way of subjugating the citizens of Darkspire, so that they may behave in ways that were deemed appropriate. The lingering gloom of the previous days was swept away, replaced by a vibrant, breathing tapestry of life and color that rivaled the great Matsuri of the East, aiming to replicate the splendour of the Queen’s homeland for her pleasure.

The transformation of the Academy began at the Great Gates where the usual iron bars were flung wide, flanked by two massive, spectral Torii gates conjured from hard light magic in place of actual wood. They towered thirty three feet high, glowing with a soft vermilion hum, purifying the thousands of spectators who poured through them like a river of noise, ready to digest the entertainment whole.

The main strip of the Academy that stretched from the gates to the main entrance, usually a wide cobblestone path for quiet contemplation, had become a bustling thoroughfare of sensory overload filled with food stalls, decorations etc for the audience to enjoy before the tournament began.

Chochin in various colours, mostly crimson, floated in the air without strings, bobbing like apples in a stream of wind and forming a canopy of red and gold above the heads of the crowd, casting a warm, dreamlike glow that softened the sharp edges of the Academy’s gothic architecture. For all intents and purposes, the Academy had come to life in preparation for the Queen’s arrival.

To the left and right, rows of wooden yatai stalls had erupted from the earth, prepared by students and independent merchants alike for the purpose of marketing, business and just to have some fun during this once in a decade event. The air was thick, heavy, and delicious, smelling of savory grease and sweet sugar as the aroma of various appetizing foods, such as sizzling takoyaki, mingled with the smoky scent of delicacies such as yakisoba, frying on large flat griddles. Vendors, summoned from the finest kitchens in the capital, flipped skewers of glazed meat with magical precision, sparks flying from their fingertips to keep the charcoal at the perfect temperature as the aroma wafted through the air, drawing customers in at a breakneck pace. They feared supplies wouldn't last, but this was a ministry of magic. The stocks were seemingly endless.

Children ran through the crowds holding skewers of dango glistening with soy and sugar glaze, while others chased after enchanted goldfish scoop games where the fish were made of liquid sapphire. Every element of the event had some form of magic imbued in it to ensure that visitors felt transported to a different realm of existence, especially the Japanese who were inherently a race that did not exhibit magical traits.

The Queen had colonised Darkspire Kingdom in hopes of producing warriors from within the Japanese who would inhabit magic in their genes as a result of procreation with the citizens of Darkspire, and this strategy had worked for the most part. However, the Japanese still lacked the depth of understanding when it came to the dark arts and, as such, this tournament was their gateway into the realm of sorcery, inspiring the next generation of children.

The avenue was lined with ancient oaks, but for today, Principal Amon had woven a complex illusion over them as they bloomed with out of season Sakura; millions of cherry blossoms falling in a perpetual, gentle snow around the visitors, dissolving into sparks of pink light before they hit the ground or on touch from the children who were enamoured by their visage.

Don. Don. Don-Don.

The heartbeat of the festival thumped against the chest of every attendee as massive Taiko drums, the size of carriage wheels, were set up at intervals along the path. On large platforms stood shirtless drummers, their skin glistening with sweat as they pounded out a rhythm that was primal, demanding the adrenaline to rise by the sounds which shook the very foundations of the school, driving the excitement into a frenzy. It was a war drum dressed up as a celebration.

There were the commoners of Darkspire kingdom from the lower sectors, dressed in their finest clothes, eyes wide with wonder as they bought overpriced snacks and pointed at the floating displays, moving in a herd like fashion on their way towards the colosseum, excited to see the violence and the next generation of heroes.

Then there were the Japanese nobles. They did not walk; they glided, arriving in hover carriages that bypassed the main gates, landing directly near the VIP entrances, dressed in silks and velvet, their faces hidden behind ornate fans or bored expressions. They were not here for entertainment but rather to appease her majesty and to them, the festival was not a joy; it was a social battlefield. They watched the commoners with disdain, clutching their jeweled robes tight lest the "filth" brush against them.

And there, on the far east side of the end of the long avenue, looming like a sleeping beast, sat the Coliseum.

It was a massive amphitheater of white stone and obsidian, decorated with banners and the crest of Sol Academy which was the Sun eclipsed by a Sword and a giant S running through it. The seating within was strictly segregated with the lower tiers for the masses, the shaded loges for the wealthy, and at the very peak, a box made of gold and glass, waiting for the highest authority in the land, Her Majesty.

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation because it was not only a celebration of magic, but also the culmination of a decade’s peak. However, beneath the beauty of the cherry blossoms, there was an unmistakable edge to the air.

The drums were a little too loud.

The red lanterns looked a little too much like drops of blood suspended in the sky.

Don. Don.

Suddenly, the thundering Taiko drums reached a deafening crescendo, shaking the petals from the trees, before cutting to an abrupt, terrifying silence.

The air grew cold, and thousands of heads turned skyward as one.

She had arrived.