The Crest of Maerethon - By Manal Rashad Haji

Written By: Manal Rashad Haji

Category: Fantasy

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the riveting entry, "The Crest of Maerethon," by Manal Rashad Haji, readers are transported to a fantastical world where courage and discipline reign supreme. As part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, this creative writing piece offers a compelling look into the life within the prestigious Maerethon Academy. Through the eyes of characters like Rory and Rylan, Haji skillfully explores themes of responsibility, power, and the challenges that come with nurturing innate abilities.

About the Work

"The Crest of Maerethon" weaves a tale of adventure and growth within an academy that values strength and discipline. The mood is tense yet exhilarating, as readers follow the characters' journeys through trials and tribulations. The narrative is rich in imagery, from the imposing Academy Crest to the fiery elemental magic that plays a central role. This piece beautifully captures the essence of struggle and self-discovery, leaving readers on the edge of their seats.

The Crest of Maerethon

Original Submission by Manal Rashad Haji

RORY

“That will be it for today, I’m afraid,” announced Mr. Cade rather dramatically. His keen gaze eyes swept over the room, laying briefly on her before moving on to the next student. She wasn’t bothered. She rarely was when it came to classes.

There was the unfamiliar sound of chairs being scraped back, pages being rustled and a student rushing up to clean the board for the next class. Their professor seemed to be in a bit of a hurry as he gave rushed answers to the students who had moved forward to crowd his table and quickened his steps to the door.

Rory sighed, having not moved at all from her middle row position. The students around her paid no attention, some even gave her weird looks that she ignored. She saw one of them slip a phone into their pocket, smirking at their friend.

She snorted, How childlike. I have to be all bothered about saving the world whilst all they do is sneak in electronics, she thought ruefully.

Three. Two. One.

A surge of pain shot across her right arm and she resisted the urge to gasp. Her left arm reached out to grip the edge of the table, carefully positioning her feet so that when the apparition happened she would be ready. “Not yet,” she gritted out quietly, hoping they would actually listen this time instead of ignoring her. The last student finally stood up, carefully taking out her books from the desk and slinging her bag across her shoulder. A girl named Em, Rory recalled, giving her a tight smile as the pain lessened slightly.

Em smiled back awkwardly and called out,” You coming?”

A quick nod and a quiet,” Just finishing up,” from Rory made the other girl nod her head and proceed towards the door. She had barely left when Rory felt another tug, this time under her left trainer and she grimaced.

“Ready!” she snapped grumpily.

**

Classroom 19D, a class that had quite recently included exactly 30 High School students would be left briefly wondering why they were suddenly 29. Quite silently and unaware, the name ‘Rory Culbert’ was deleted from its internal school system, and the girl who had been inside the classroom was never seen to have exited from it.

**

She landed on her knee. Badly. A groan escaped her lips before she could stop it and she winced.

“Sorry about that,” a voice called out gruffly. It came from her far left, behind the control table that was positioned 20 metres from where she had appeared. The owner of the voice made no move to approach her, and nor did Rory ask for his help.

“Atleast you actually listened this time,” she muttered, ignoring his apology as she checked her knee for any serious injury before sweeping her gaze around the room briefly.

Her eyes didn’t linger. The room was bigger than the ones she normally used, massive enough to hold a hundred people comfortably spaced from each other. Wide and rather gloomy, the faint rays of sunlight pouring in from the windows was the only indication that life existed inside-that and the four rows of light bulbs arranged on the left and right walls from where she was stood. Directly in front of her, a floor to ceiling glass window separated Rory from the owner of the voice, who had now returned to the various digital computers occupying the marble desk he was standing behind.

“It isn’t broken,” the voice said again, calmly dismissive in a way that made Rory resent that he was right.

She stood up, straightening as she said passively,” Nothing to report.” There was something in the way she’d said it that made him pause slightly before inclining his head, a gesture that forced her to look at him properly. Rory resisted the urge to scowl at him.

The young man standing before her was decently tall, with a defined jaw and tanned skin that reminded her of someone who had just come out from relaxing on a beach. He fit the image too; cinnamon brown eyes and dark chocolate hair with a curly fringe that was rather wet and plastered messily across his forehead like he’d just come out from a bath. Only the wetness on his face was sweat and, as Rory examined him closely, blood from the side of his eye. He’d just come out from practice; judging by the way his half sheathed sword had specks of dirt on the side, he’d gone straight to the simulation to oversee her progress. Their team lead and one of the Academy’s most prized warriors in training, Rylan Ashcroft.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still to report to me after dinner for a more thorough breakdown of what you saw,” he said neutrally,” You can leave. I’ll meet you in exactly 2 hours.”

The familiar feeling of being snubbed arrived sharply in her stomach and she tried her best not to let it get to her. Still, the way he simply turned his back on her made her snap out,” That’s it? No ‘how was it today Rory?’ No ‘did anyone try to kill you this time?’”

Rylan stilled slightly, not looking at her at all as he said quietly,” I saw everything that happened. I knew you were fine.”

Rory bit back an angry remark as he proceeded towards the door, pausing briefly with his hand on the handle before he turned it and was out of the room. In that moment, her hands curled into fists and she growled in frustration.

Around her, the atmosphere in the room darkened despite the faint wisps of sunlight entering from the vaulted windows on each corner of the room. The air grew slightly heavier and she could feel the wind pick up speed as it responded to her anger. Across her, her eyes landed on one of the symbols of the Academy, present in every room to monitor any changes and alert the occupant.

Warn is the correct word, Rory thought sourly as the burnished gold emblazoned spear at the centre glowed neon orange. An ugly colour, precisely chosen to stand out brightly in every darkened room; a signal of lack of restraint. An action frowned upon in an Academy where strength and discipline were given priority and anything that went against it was considered an offense worthy to be put on probation.

As Rory’s eyes continued to settle on the Academy’s Crest, she struggled to control the feeling of anger at the treatment Rylan had given her. Her eyes didn’t burn the way they would have several months ago, but they still felt salty as she blinked back the pain of regret. Her breathing eased as she closed her eyes, letting her fingers unclench as the stern voice of her mentor appeared in her mind, lecturing her on the best ways her anger could be not be justified. The air around her stilled, going back to the light breezy whoosh she had barely felt when she’d arrived. Her eyes opened and sought out the emblem, studying it quietly.

The Crest of Maerethon.

She traced the elaborate insignia forged in the visual language of ancient royalty, military honour and arcane tradition. The design on it was symmetrical, deliberate and imposing. Every element present served a purpose, from the spear that divided the crest along its central axis to the protective wings, classical pillars, and laurel branches that framed it. Together, the symbols represented the principles that the Academy had been built upon and was the reason it was still standing.

Rory sighed. Suddenly, her dissolved anger led way to exhaustion and she stepped out of the wide arc she had landed in, her steps silent as she made her way to the right side of the room where a triangular shaped door stood waiting. She had less than two hours to refresh herself before the meeting with Rylan, and she intended to use every second of peace before it got wasted.

**

RYLAN

“Way to go, Ashcroft,” muttered Rylan with a sigh as he closed the door to his bedroom chambers that he shared with three other mates. Currently, it was empty save for him and his dour mood.

The chambers consisted of four four-poster beds, two on each side of the room as they stood facing each other. Painted a light cerulean blue with streaks of off white lines on the walls, Rylan had long considered the place somewhere he could put down his guard-partially anyway. The only natural sunlight available came from the window next to his bed, lighting up the room in fractional rays as the evening hours approached. Thick cream blankets lay sprawled on each bed, the ends of each sheet tucked neatly inside and the pillows seating the pajamas awaiting nighttime. The chamber was comfortable, and despite the occupants relying on their own self made lights when night approached, it felt decidedly lived in and alive.

Rylan gave another sigh as he dragged his feet to the corner of the room where his bed lay. He plopped himself on it, remembering half way to unstrap his sword and placed it standing beside his bedpost. He’d clean it in a bit.

He dragged a calloused hand through his hair roughly and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to let himself drown in his thoughts he heard a small sound, barely audible as the entrance to the room opened slightly and a presence stepped through. The door clicked softly behind the newcomer, and Rylan gave a chuckle as the tip of a sword tickled his throat mere inches from his chin.

“You’re getting better,” he said, amused without opening his eyes.

The newcomer huffed,” I thought I had you there!” he complained, the voice familiar with a faint drawl to it.

Rylan snorted, opening an eye lazily as the dagger that had threatened his throat was now being flipped in the air by a rather lean looking teen.

“You were too loud,” he told him before sniffing and added with a wrinkled look,” and smelly at that.”

Getting up properly, Rylan turned his face to examine his best friend and one of the room’s other occupant, Rowan Royce. Short midnight black hair that had the barest of curls at the edges, his baby blue eyes were flashing in annoyance as he caught the hilt of the dagger and threw it again in the air. Taller than Rylan by a couple of inches, though it was hard to tell who would be tallest at age fifteen, he was sturdier looking than his roommate, with broader shoulders and a mouth that already looked like it would be sprouting jokes at the next opportunity. Rowan, unlike Rylan, had eyes that sparkled continuously with humour and hands that had no idea how to exist without a possession being clutched in between.

Rowan gave a shrug,” Can’t help the smell m’afraid. You know how the Phylareth get. Slack off for three seconds and you can repeat the routine three more times,” he said the last part resentfully.

Phylareth. The Academy’s senior warriors and the ones entrusted with training the recruits who were showing promise in practice and anyone below them in rank. They were the ones under-seeing their training, giving praise where praise was due and criticism where it was unwanted but not unneeded. They were ruthless regarding discipline, relentless when it came to showing and maintaining strength, and merciless when it involved anything related to freedom during training hours. Truth be told, they were some of the main reasons why the Academy was so feared outside its walls, why battles involving the Maerethon alumni were rarely lost, and why the Academy’s traditions had survived this long. Rylan understood all too well how it felt to be training with them, having had his share right before he had gone to oversee Rory’s simulation.

The memory of Rory’s simulation put a damper to his mood and he made no response to the other boy’s previous comment.

Rowan frowned at the sudden silence and moved closer to Rylan, peering with exaggeration at his face,” What’s the matter with you? Is it the smell? Bloody hell Ashcroft, it’s not like you smell any better. In fact-” he moved as though he wanted to sniff Rylan but the other boy pushed him away, looking disgusted and refusing to acknowledge his twitching lips.

Rowan moved back, grinning.

“Just tired,” responded Rylan wearily.

Rowan raised an eyebrow,” Session ended an hour ago for you,” he said in a tone that conveyed his lack of desire to believe him.

There was a pause before Rylan said rather stiffly,” I had to oversee Rory’s simulation.”

Rowan made a noise of understanding and said carefully,” She alright?”

Rylan nodded,” Fine. Slight bruise but she’ll heal,” his tone was uncaring, expression rather emotionless in a way that didn’t fool his best friend for a minute. After a moment he added,” She needs to report to me in two hours for the briefing.”

Rowan frowned,” You’ll have to hope the Parousia ends quickly then,” he warned, referring to the formal presentation of new members into the Academy’s ranks that would be taking place that night.

Rylan groaned,” I’d nearly forgotten about that!”

The other boy turned his back to him, strolling towards the door that led to the bathroom at the far end of the room and called back cheerfully,” You’re getting rusty, Stratheon Ashcroft.”

He swore when a dagger missed his right ear neatly by mere inches. Rylan’s low laugh was heard across the room as the door to the bathroom slammed shut, but not before Rowan could be heard grumbling loudly about show offs.

**

The other two boys in Rylan’s room hadn’t returned by the time Rylan and Rowan stepped out from the chambers and into the candle lit corridors. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them they heard the automatic bolt on the locks that would ensure none but the room’s rightful occupants could enter, a mechanism introduced by some of the Academy's alumni decades back to strengthen security. The passageway in front of them stretched, and they began their way downstairs, passing alcove shaped doors that led to some of the other warriors’ chambers in the Academy. The floor was covered with heavy electrum carpets that masked their footsteps as they walked, the only sounds audible being the clothes on their person rustling against their weapons.

Rylan glanced down at himself, doing a quick check to ensure his attire was satisfactory. He wore regular trousers and a shirt, same as Rowan only with a sword sheathed on his left hip while the other boy walked with four daggers, two positioned on each hip. The other difference in their attire was the long imperial emerald cloak that hugged Rylan’s shoulders comfortably, with the Crest of Maerethon on the left hand breast to signify his status as Stratheon Ashcroft, team lead of set 376. Rowan’s cloak was a simple blue that matched his eyes, with the Crest of Maerethon on his lower collar to signify his status as that under the charge of the current Stratheon.

As they turned corners, passing various portraits of alumni and seniors, displays of honour and the Academy’s Crest on each corner (this time glowing a pearly white in anticipation of the ceremony), they took the stairs to the right side, careful to avoid the fifth step on the staircase that one of the warriors had stupidly stuck a permanent dagger with the tip pointed dangerously upwards. No-one had quite bothered removing it yet and, as they heard growing murmurs up ahead, quickened their footsteps to the Giant Chambers, famously nicknamed the GC due to its lack of originality.

“See you in a couple hours,” Rylan whispered to Rowan, who nodded briefly and flashed him a grin before he headed to one of the back lines, closer to where he’d be getting a good look at the newbies. Rylan saw him greet several warriors in turn as he moved through the crowd.

Due to their difference in ranks they were unable to sit together, a rule which Rylan obeyed dutifully as he made his way to the front of the GC, smiling briefly at friends and acquaintances, nodding at mentors and saluting the Heads as he reached his line, who were all standing right behind the Phylareth. One of them, the Phylareth who was in charge of training Rylan’s set and the two above them, turned behind and smiled slightly. Phylareth Castor, more commonly known as Stor.

Rylan had been more than relieved when he’d found out that Stor would be the one training them as the older guy was a good friend of his and had stood by his side through rough times. Some of the other Phylareth weren’t so friendly when it came to the warriors, and made it all but clear that training them was a matter of duty and not desire.

Rylan leaned in to whisper something but stopped when a sudden, sharp clap rang across the room and he leaned back immediately. Next to him, the other Stratheon fell silent as well, and the warriors and other occupants quieted at once. It was unquestionable to continue any conversation, even in whispers, when the Head of the Academy was on his feet, looking as formidable as ever as his dark eyes swept the room carefully. The clap, a sound familiar to every occupant in the GC apart from the newbies who were huddled in one corner of the chamber, had come from the Head’s own hands. The power, Rylan admired silently, of lightning. An element of the Earth, a cracking sound that would make grown warriors lower their weapons out of respect.

Rylan didn’t listen as the Headmaster opened his mouth and began speaking. He let his eyes travel around the room, resting briefly on Rory before moving back to the Headmaster. To say the GC was vast was an understatement. It could easily hold two football stadiums with plenty of room to spare and could seat tens of thousands of warriors. It was where the major Agon (war spars), Parousia and any award or promotional ceremonies were held. Arranged by status, from the Aretharchon who were the highest, to the Phylareth then the Stratheon, the rest of the warriors were seated separately, divided by about three meters of space from the nearest Stratheon, they sat facing each other on opposite sides. A green gold platform with marble engravings and the Academy’s Crest on each corner of it was raised high in between the distance, so that the warriors on the other side and the seniors on the opposite side could view them all comfortably.

Headmaster Thaddeus had been standing on the platform, and he now moved aside to welcome the new arrivals warmly. Rylan tuned back in, listening to the Head’s precise, cadenced delivery as he called out the names. He looked rather tired, Rylan observed, though he hid it well. You had to, if you were to survive Maerethon’s traditions. The Head’s eyes were dark but held a wise, timeless look like he’d seen battles warriors could only dream of. His face was lined and again, Rylan was left guessing whether he was fifty or seventy. Being a warrior tended to do that to you, ageing you in a way where you couldn’t recognize someone’s years regardless of the scars they bore. Straight salt and pepper hair framed Headmaster Thaddeus’ square shaped face, and as he moved to shake the hand of the rather short fair girl firmly, Rylan could see the array of weapons hidden securely on the inside of the Head’s golden cloak, the only colour in the room that matched the Crest of the Academy; a sign of his status and authority.

**

RORY

Rory wished the Parousia would finish up quicker. All around her the other Maerethians (warriors of the Academy), were silent and attentive, looking at the newbies with feigned interest and probably, like Rory, wishing it would come to a closure. Most of them had briefings, Askesis (practice sessions) or leisure things to do rather than look at barely experienced warriors with little clue as to what they were actually getting into.

There were hundreds of warriors in the GC, yet not a whisper nor a chuckle could be heard as all eyes were on the Headmaster. That was one of the admirable things Maerethon Academy taught; discipline, respect and a lack of tolerance for rule breaking whenever an important ceremony was ongoing. From where she was seated, Rory glimpsed Rylan on the other side of the raised platform, looking as expressionless as ever as his eyes stared resolutely at the Head. She wondered what he was thinking, or whether he was feeling any excitement about the prospect that he could be chosen to train one of the newbies.

Not quite happening, thought Rory reasonably. Even if Rylan was a Stratheon, he was only in charge of his own team set. Most times the newbies were taught by the Proponitis; the trainers in charge of overseeing their introductory athletic preparation, potential weapon wielding, hidden elemental awakenings or signs that they possessed any other innate abilities. There was a chance he would be present as a helper as most of the Stratheons tended to be.

Rory sighed and beside her, Astrid, her closest friend glanced at her with lightly raised eyebrows. She gave her a small shrug and tapped her watch, a sign Astrid understood to mean I have better things to be doing. The other girl mimicked a sleeping position with her tongue sticking out, a pointed reference to sleep after the gruesome training she had undergone an hour earlier.

Rory gave a silent laugh, turning her face hastily into a more appropriate expression when one of the Phylareth caught her eye briefly. She flushed, forcing herself to maintain eye contact as the senior Maraethian glared at her. After a beat, he looked away and she let out a breath just as the Headmaster called out the last student, a girl.

“Polemistria Lysandra Aramis,” he called out and a girl of average height with olive skin walked to the platform. Rory’s eyes sharpened with interest and she could see the other warriors also raising their eyebrows and exchanging looks. Astrid nudged her and gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like ‘trouble’. Rory forced herself not to roll her eyes, though she privately wondered whether any trouble would occur. The Aramis family had a very reputable history, and she could practically hear her fellow Maraethians going through their expectations about the girl.

But as Rory looked at her closely, squinting from where she sat in the middle row, she noticed a faint scar right above the girl’s right eyebrow. Her expression-stiff and mouth raised in displeasure as the Head pinned the brown coloured cloak that signified her status as a newbie around her shoulders-was staring straight ahead unseeingly. As Rory lowered her eyes to the Crest of Maerethon engraved on the front side of the platform, she noticed the way it was turning faintly orange, a sign that a warrior was losing control of their emotion.

She wasn’t the only one who noticed and some smirks around the GC were exchanged. Up until then, the Crest had glowed a strong white, dimming with each warrior until it was set to return to its original golden hue once the last warrior bore the brown cloak. But as she glanced back at the Crest, the colour had returned back to gold, and one quick look at Lysandra Aramis showed the girl wearing a highly concentrated expression before she thanked the Headmaster and walked towards the end of the platform where the other thirteen newbies were standing.

“I doubt I need repeating of what is expected from all of you,” Headmaster Thaddeus’s voice broke through her thoughts as he peered at all of them sternly. His expression was more welcoming than some of the other mentors or trainers, and his salt and pepper hair gave him a regal look as he clasped both hands in front of him.

“We have lost several warriors over time, several dedicated souls who have left behind teachings and memories, have honored their oaths and fulfilled their duties. Not a single one of them remains forgotten, and nor shall that ever come to be,” he paused, his voice growing quieter as he turned to the newbies and said words that had stayed with Rory since the moment she had heard them.

“Some of you have arrived with experiences, others with tragedies they have undergone, expectations that they hold, or even arrogance that they shall meet the requirements that is placed upon you as you wear that cloak. We do not expect powerful warriors during your time here, nor do we admire them or favour any over others. Maerethon Academy does not cherish the owner of several innate abilities if the bearer knows not the responsibility that comes with it. We do not care of the weapons you are able to wield if you are unwilling to discover the discipline behind the skills. What we do care,” not a drop could be heard as every warrior in the room listened, the air crackling with the Headmaster’s powers as he continued,” is what and how you use the gifts that you possess. Use it well, and you will rise far above others. Misuse it, and you will rest assured your time within the Academy will be limited.”

Rory felt a twinge of sympathy at some of the newbies’ terrified faces. Some who had looked confident were now bearing significantly wary expressions as the Head continued by telling them where and to whom they would be reporting to. From then on, any further instructions would be shared and their duties handed out. As soon as he was finished, the Phylareth in charge that month stepped forward, a seventeen year old girl named Linnea, who bore her silver cloak proudly and had one hand on the long sword strapped on her left hip that all warriors in a leadership position had.

She gave a firm nod in greeting to the Head before saying something to the newbies. Rory watched as they formed two lines and followed her out of the GC. As soon as the last newbie left the Head raised one hand, dismissing the ceremony. The Stratheon, Phylareth and Aretharchon stood up first and left via the side door that would lead to the East wing corridor where they would then head to their respective places. She glimpsed Rylan conversing with Stor, a small smile on his lips as he listened to the elder teen.

Around her, her fellow warriors stood up, loud chatter breaking out as some of them began discussing the ceremony or else talking about where they had to be. Astrid grabbed her arm and asked,” Dinner?”

Rory looked regretful,” I don’t think so,” she said as she checked her time and added,” I have a briefing with Rylan in ten minutes.”

Astrid looked disappointed,” I feel like I haven’t seen you properly in ages,” she sighed as they began making their way to the doors, avoiding some of the larger crowds and ducking through taller warriors.

Rory squeezed her friend’s arms slightly,” After the briefing, we’ll catch up,” she promised but Astrid shook her head.

“Can’t. I promised Stor I’d attend the extra Askesis he was holding,” she said unhappily, referring to the practice sessions which would last for nearly two hours-more if they were expected to participate.

“But I thought they’d cancelled it. Wasn’t Dean injured enough for it to be postponed?” she asked.

Her friend shook her head,” He got a replacement, and you should know better than to think they’d cancel an Askesis because of an injury, Rory,” said Astrid with a snort.

Rory grinned,” Catch you tomorrow then,” she called out as they reached their separate ways and Astrid made to go to the dinner pavilion.

“Don’t kill Ashcroft,” Astrid called out before her face got lost in the sea of warriors who were in no doubt a hurry to feed themselves.

Rory muttered,” He’d deserve it.”

“Talking to yourself this early?” a familiar voice said cheerfully, appearing beside her and steering her towards the right corridor by the elbow. They soon left the other warriors behind, entering the quiet stillness of the beige painted walls. Outside, the sun was hidden by a fluffy grey cloud and darkness was approaching quickly.

“I’m perfectly capable of leading myself, thank you,” said Rory irritably as Rowan Royce’s fair face grinned down at her.

“Stingy,” he said, looking unperturbed,” Was it the Parousia, the simulation, or was our dear Stratheon acting up again? Oh wait,” he peered at her as she glared at him,” It’s you who usually acts up.”

He yelped as one of Rory’s twin daggers shot out and pinned his sleeve to the corridor, barely missing his index finger. Groaning, he said,” That’s the second time a knife’s missed one of my body parts today.”

Rory huffed,” I’d like to congratulate the other person then,” but there was no sting behind it as she took back her knife from Rowan and gave him a small smile which disappeared when he said,” I’ll pass on the message to Rylan then.”

“What did you think of the ceremony?” he asked, changing the subject.

“If you’re referring to the Amaris girl don’t beat around the bush, Royce,” she replied, amused.

Rowan looked sheepish,” Always one to go straight to the point, aren’t you?” he said before adding thoughtfully,” the last Amaris warrior didn’t make it very far in the Academy.”

“The last Amaris warrior was stupid enough to go against the Academy’s traditions,” she pointed out before they both turned a corner to take the staircase and stopped suddenly.

Lysandra Amaris was standing at the top landing, a couple feet in front of them and looking entirely too controlled. She had amber eyes, Rory noticed, though her eyes were aimed at the stairs as the other girl descended slowly. The faint light from the torch lit corridors, now looking rather sinister due to the lack of windows, grew slightly darker with each step Amaris took.

Rowan and Rory exchanged glances and Rory cleared her throat, silently hoping their conversation hadn’t been heard as she called out,” Shouldn’t you be with the other newbies?”

Lysandra raised her gaze to meet Rory’s and her eyes scanned her briefly before she said in a perfectly polite voice,” I wasn’t aware you had the authority to question my whereabouts.”

Rory bristled and opened her mouth to retort but Rowan intervened reasonably,” Watch your tone while you’re here,” he advised the other girl,” When a senior asks you something, you respond.”

Lysandra snorted, a strand of rose blonde hair falling over her face as she replied, again, in that perfectly controlled voice,” I thought seniors didn’t wear blue cloaks.” She was referring to the general blue cloaks that the two were wearing on their shoulders, signifying their lack of status.

“You know perfectly well what he meant,” said Rory sharply, and she knew that she was right. Amaris’s face was expressionless in a way that conveyed she was aware of exactly what she was doing but was unwilling to look guilty. Above them, the Crest of Maerethon was on the edges of glowing yellow, and Rowan nudged her arm, muttering under his breath,” Let’s go.”

But Rory’s attention had shifted to the Crest above them. The colour was changing rapidly to a crimson red. Beside her, Rowan inhaled sharply and his hand drifted to the dagger strapped to his right hip as he ordered Amaris,” Follow us. We’ll explain as we go.”Amaris didn’t move but Rory and Rowan were already turning their backs on her as they jogged back the way they had come.

“What’s going on?” the new Maraethian warrior demanded, struggling to keep up with them.

Rory was the one who responded, her voice grim as she said,” Someone in the Academy is in danger.”

**

RYLAN

Rylan smelled the danger before he saw it. His blood ran cold as outside the Maerethon walls shouts were beginning to become more audible. From where he was headed he distinguished the noises coming only on the West side of the Academy as that was where the danger lay. It would be foolish to frighten and assemble everyone if a danger could be handled adeptly enough.

All around him the Crest was glowing brighter as he turned a corner, took a sharp right and raced across the stairs, trying to hear if anyone else was within range to help. He heard nothing, but the smell was growing stronger as his steps neared. Several alumni portraits stood stiffly against the walls, their eyes cold and unseeing as he struggled to control his breathing, already withdrawing one of the throwing knives that was attached to the inside of his wrist-a risk he had been warned against several times and which he had promptly proceeded to ignore.

There. His heart sunk. The rectangular brass door was barely recognizable due to the billowing smoke that was escaping in tendrils. It’s brown almond colour was turning an ugly burnt charcoal. This was the room where newbies were taken straight after the Parousia to get them acquainted with the procedures of the next day. If he was right, they would still be in there.

As he burst into the room the sounds of terrified yells and sharp orders greeted him. Besides him a shoulder appeared and he glanced around to see the third of his roommates, Zarek, looking back at him through worried looking eyes.

“Saw the Crest and rushed in here,” Zarek said directly as they both left the door open and tried inching towards the sounds. Rylan determined that the students were scattered round, and as he heard Linnea’s voice trying to maintain order he grabbed his friend’s arm.

“Go and help her round up the newbies,” he told the other teen.

Zarek hesitated,” What about you?”

Rylan looked ahead determinedly,” I’ll try and locate the source. Until then, we need less panic and more diretion,” he responded.

“That’s insane! We can barely see through the heat,” argued Zarek, his eyes widening as he took a sudden step back when a wave of heat approached him too closely. To his surprise, Rylan remained exactly where he was, looking unbothered by the smoke.

“Go help Linnea,” he repeated, taking a step forward and not even blinking as a few metres ahead fire was collecting around a small body. A scream was emanating around it and he heard Zarek swearing.

“Rylan-”

“That was an order,” said Rylan in a tone that made Zarek fall silent at once.

“Yes, Stratheon,” he understood what had to be done, even if he didn’t like it. As he turned towards the right, he glimpsed Rylan running through the flames easily as though it was wind.

Rylan approached the wave of heat steadily, his hand still gripping the narrow, auburn bronze throwing knife in case he’d need it. The room was starting to lose its colour, turning darker as the smoke began growing in volume. Rylan could make out a small figure huddled at the center, and he felt his pulse quickening. A kid. God, a kid was the one causing the flames.

It was, as he had suspected, an accidental bout of elemental magic. Rylan remembered learning about it, how common it was to occur to someone of a younger age with little to no training and even less experience in controlling it. He felt the fire around him, felt the fear it held, the anger it was feeling at being allowed to hurt people it didn’t want to hurt. He felt a timidness beneath it too, like someone was trying and failing to control it.

As he reached closer to the figure, a little girl who was clutching her head and shaking it with trembled whispers that reflected the tears in her eyes as she looked up and saw him. Her fear intensified and Rylan knew that the flames that came shooting at him were against her will. He didn’t flinch, though every instinct in his body was calling him out on his insanity.

The girl’s eyes widened as she saw him remain unhurt and before she could say anything, Rylan called out, careful to keep his voice friendly,” Mind putting out the fire for me?”

“You’re-” the girl stuttered. She looked to be about twelve, though her stature made her look smaller, ten maybe. Her hair-the colour completely indistinguishable due to the smoke curling around her, hid her entire face, but there was no mistaking the grey eyes that stared at him containing fear mixed with hope.

“Yes, I’m not burning,” said Rylan calmly, getting closer with each word he uttered, keeping his hands free even as the flames licked at him. It tickled, and he nearly sneezed once but controlled himself. He continued talking,” It’s scary the first time, I know. But you need to hold it in, otherwise most of us will end up in bad conditions.”

She flinched as he kept approaching until he was directly in front of her. When she pulled away, her eyes wary and back leaning firmly against the wall, Rylan said gently,” Let me help you. I promise you can trust me.”

The girl’s eyes filled with tears,” I don’t know how to stop it.”

Slowly, Rylan lifted his palm up, keeping his eyes trained on her as a ball of flame licked his fingers. She gave a small scream, stopping abruptly when the fire around her responded to his flames. He smiled encouragingly,” I can help you. I know how. Just trust me.”

She didn’t hesitate as her head gave a quick nod and Rylan held out his other hand, gesturing at her to hold it. She did so, and he closed his eyes briefly as he let the flames that were dancing on his fingers grow outwards, pulling at the heat around the room and inviting them to join, to cease the damage and return to where their source was.

Besides him, the little girl seemed to understand what he was doing and stood quietly as his fire absorbed hers, all the while clutching his hand tightly as though she knew that if she were to let go her fire would stop responding.

Rylan didn’t know how long he stood there, but he heard the shouts around them growing fainter as his grip on the girl’s hand grew weaker. He knew it was stupid of him to attempt this. He was too young and not yet strong enough, but there was something about the flames that had reminded him of what he had and what he was. He had felt that connection to her, as all like him within the vicinity probably had too.

It was inevitable. Being a fire elemental always meant you’d charge into something. A battle, a fight, a challenge. Especially when that something included danger.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, invites writers worldwide to showcase their talents in poetry and creative writing. This prestigious platform celebrates the power of words and the imagination, offering participants an opportunity to share their unique voices with a global audience.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Manal Rashad Haji for participating in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 with "The Crest of Maerethon." Your vivid storytelling and imaginative world-building have offered a captivating glimpse into the trials of Maerethon Academy. We look forward to seeing more of your inspiring work in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.