Nicholas entered his side of the arena, the shimmering barrier of magic parting to let him through. He called out to me, flashing those stupidly perfect teeth of his. “Today’s the day, pet!”

My name is Jekai of house Revechen and I hated Nicholas more than anything in the known realms. I hated him since the day I met him. I hated that he had a face that looked like, and probably was, crafted by the priciest glamour-mages. I hated that he had an accent that said ‘I can spend more in one night than you can earn in a lifetime.’ I hated his impeccably cut blond hair, I hated his manicured hands, I hated his clothes that never seemed to have a speck of dirt on them. But especially what I hated about him is the fact that he technically owned me. 

We attend the Sinslar Graduate Academy of Magic, one of the most prestigious magical schools in the land. They offer a pretty good education, all things considered. The issue is that only half of any given class will ever graduate. In our third year, students are allowed to duel each other in the Ritual of the Familiar. The rules are simple: two apprentices enter, one magus and their familiar leave.

That’s right, the winner of the duel earns a title, respect, and a boost to their magical abilities. On the other hand, the loser forfeits their freedom, their soul, their body, and even their magic to the winner as they are permanently transformed into their familiar and bound to them forever. To many, including me, it’s a fate worse than death, and it’s a fate that had been written for me since the day the inquisitors discovered my magical spark.

Really, having the magical spark was the worst thing that could happen to someone in my position: the youngest son of a noble, but dirt broke house. It was an accepted practice to sell people like me into ‘bonded familiar’ contracts, where in my third year, I would simply forfeit my duel with the arranged party and become their familiar without a fight. Noble houses usually did it to the children of other, struggling nobles - after all, they wouldn’t want their familiars to come from common stock. So, as soon as my father, the Duke of Revechen found out what I was, he bundled me into a carriage to go on a trip. He hadn’t explained what was going to happen to me before we left of course - it’s harder to get livestock into a wagon if they know they’re heading to slaughter. And the name of the slaughterhouse we went to was Brighstar Hall, the estate of the Ostarians; one of the oldest and richest families in the kingdom. That’s when I met him.

Prince Nicholas Ostarian III, second son of house Ostarian and renowned prodigy even at our young age. When I crawled out of our rickety carriage, the pompous son of a bitch rode in on a horse surrounded by hounds and attendants, having just finished a fox hunt of all things. Even back then he didn’t bother hiding exactly how he felt about all the people below him as he studied me the way a hunter studies a fresh kill.

“Yes, you’ll do I suppose. Father says you belong to me now,” he said, taking one of his servants’ hands as he dismounted.

“What? Father, what does he mean?” I looked at my father, but his refusal to meet my gaze already answered my question. 

“Hey, pet! You give me your attention when I’m talking to you,” he snapped, cracking his riding crop in his open hand as he did.

I looked him in the eye with a fury colder than the ice fields of Luzaria. “I’m not your pet.” 

The smug bastard just kneeled down and started petting his dogs, causing one of them to drop the fox carcass it had in its slobbering mouth. “Not yet. I suppose right now you’re really more of a quarry. I’ll have you soon though, once our third year comes around. Then, you’re mine.”

That voice echoed through my head for the next several years. Even now as I stared him down from my end of the arena.

“I’m not your pet. Not yet anyway,” I hissed.

The bastard just laughed on the other side, a stupid chortle that made you know you were beneath him. “Oh of course not yet. I have to give you your headpat first.”

He was referring to the degrading term that students threw around for the mana drain spell used to end bonded familiar duels. It was a simple procedure. All I had to do was kneel in front of him, he would place his palm on my head, and he would literally drain the humanity right out of me. An anti-climactic end to a miserable existence.

“So come on,” he said as he stepped into the center of the arena. He locked eyes with me, those shiny blue eyes that looked like the sapphire he wore on his finger; the same finger pointing down at a spot in front of him. “Kneel.”

I sighed and walked forwards. Two years of my education leading to this moment. Two years of anxiety and depression and desperate denial just to meet him here at the center of the arena where my fate would be sealed. The only problem was: I wasn’t going to kneel. 

I was going to fight.

I stopped short an arms length away from him and threw my hands in front of me. I felt the rush of magic as a tingling passed from my soul to my heart and out through my palms in the form of a bull made of pure energy that charged and slammed Nicholas right in the chest. As the bull dissipated, Nicholas soared through the air, and to my slight disappointment, landed just short of the edge of the arena. 

“What in the Abyssal Hells are you doing? We had a deal!” Nicholas gasped as blood leaked from his mouth. I smiled watching him wipe his face with his sleeve, having finally managed to sully his perfect clothes for probably the first time in his life. And don’t even get me started on his expression. I could have died happy right there seeing that haughty smirk crack for once.

“That deal was made with my asshole of a father, not with me! You want my magic, then here, take it!” I raised my hands again and splayed my fingers out like they were claws, summoning two massive lion paws above his head that swung down to eviscerate him. 

Unfortunately, the prick recovered faster than I expected, rolling to the side and springing to his feet, only catching a scratch on his arm as the paws slammed down and dissipated. I suppose the private duel instructors his family hired weren't going to waste after all. 

“Well pet, seems like you still need a little bit of taming. That’s fine, I did want to see you use those animus spells at least once before they became mine. But let’s see how your animal spirits hold up against this,” as he gloated, a crackle of lightning flowed down from his shoulder to his fingertips and jolted right at me, forcing me to block at the last second by summoning a turtle shell in front of me. 

As soon as the lightning cleared, a fireball came hurtling at my face, followed by blasts of wind and torrents of scalding water, all the while he danced and dodged around my counters and parries. He was grace and speed, moving and and throwing spells like he was an obsidian fencer in the Chimeran Guard. And here I was, the apprentice that no one wanted to spar with because of his status as a bonded familiar; working off nothing but instinct, dusty dueling manuals, and a pure desire to live. 

“Come pet, you can provide better sport than this!” he cried as he manipulated a flaming tornado to chase me around the arena. 

I grunted as I spent a good deal of mana to summon an elephant to literally squash his tornado and give me some breathing room. This fight was going badly, even a stubborn ass like me could tell that. Pure force wasn’t working, time to get crafty. 

“Hey Nicky, do you ever shut the fuck up?” I yelled, hoping it would distract him from the subtle finger casting I was doing behind my back.

“Don’t worry pet, you’ll crave the sound of my voice soon enough,” he said, raising a lightning covered arm yet again. Good, he took the bait, let’s just hope my gambit pays off.

I held my breath and felt time slow down - not through magic but by pure adrenaline. I saw the individual lines of electricity running down his arm and into his hand, coalescing into a singular point on his pointer finger. I had to time this just right.

The lightning fired out, arcing towards me. Now!

With a final jerk of my fingers, I sprung my trap in the form of a group of moles simultaneously bursting from below the dirt of the arena, sending rocks and debris into the air as they did and intercepting the lightning bolt just in front of Nicky-boy’s face. The look of surprise I saw in him just before the resulting explosion was yet another priceless memory I hoped to keep when I win and maintain my humanity.

His entire side of the arena disappeared into a dust cloud from the explosion, which was perfect for me - his elemental blasts would be useless if he couldn’t see me. My animus spells on the other hand were a bit wider ranging, more like a swinging hammer compared to his thin rapier. It was now or never, my last chance to win this duel, and there was no way in all known realms that I would waste it. 

I sucked air and roared, unleashing spell after spell into the dust cloud. Stampedes of spectral horses trampled through. Flocks of ghostly eagles with daggers for talons dove and raked the air. Swarms of hornets and vermin and all manners of stinging and biting creatures filled any empty space left, and then I kept casting anyway. They say nothing is more dangerous than a cornered animal, because it will do anything to survive. Well that’s what I was at that moment, just a cornered animal that knew it was either kill or be killed. 

By the time I finally stopped, I felt like my brain had turned to ichor and my heart was pumping acid. I had used every reserve I had, the reserves I didn’t know I had, and even the reserves that I don’t think existed until I was this desperate. My hand waved in front of me uselessly, still trying to cast one more spell but managing only to summon half formed sparks and I finally let it fall limp to my side. I had to have won, right? No one could have blocked all of those spells, the bastard had to be laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood by now. I watched with my heart in my throat as the dust parted - and felt the acid in my veins turn to ice.

The fucker wasn’t there!

“Are you done, pet?” A hand from behind touched the top of my head - nothing but smooth skin and perfectly manicured nails. It was him. “Your spellwork is actually quite admirable, but unfortunately your perception needs some improvement. I teleported out of there before your little tantrum.”

The hand pushed down on my head and, Astral Saints, I was so tired I couldn’t do anything to resist as I was forced down onto my knees. Nicholas walked around me and leaned into my face, his hand never leaving my head, his blue eyes boring into mine. And in the reflection of those sapphire pools I could see myself as he saw me: a defeated animal, completely at his mercy.

“You see, the key to a good fox hunt is to let your quarry tire itself out before you go in for the kill. And you, my little pet, have given me a very enjoyable last hunt.”

I opened my mouth to retort but cried in agony instead as jolts of pain wracked my body, the telltale sign that the Ritual recognised my defeat and had begun my permanent transformation into a familiar.