“For any first-timers just joining us, we’re live from Fourpoint, the Island’s capital. And in a few moments these unicorns will fly out of this famous arena and begin the aerial racecourse—a grueling sixteen-kilometer test of stamina and sky-battle ability. Riders must stay outside the floating markers on their way round or risk being eliminated—not easy when twenty-four other competitors are trying to hit you with elemental magic and slow you down at every turn— Oh, that’s the countdown. Five, four, three, two… “And they’re off!” Skandar watched twenty-five unicorns, each twice the size of a horse, explode forward as the starting bar rose above their horns. The riders’ armored legs banged against the competitors on either side as they urged their unicorns on to get an early lead, crouching low in their saddles, gathering speed. And then it was Skandar’s favorite part. The unicorns began to stretch out their great feathered wings and take off, leaving the sand of the arena far below. The microphones picked up the riders as they whooped through their helmets. And it also picked up something else—a sound that still sent shivers down Skandar’s spine, though he’d heard it on race day every year of his life. Guttural bellows from deep within the unicorns’ chests—more terrifying than a lion’s roar, more ancient and primal than anything he’d heard on the Mainland. The sort of sound that made you want to run. The unicorns barged each other in midair to get the best positions, metal armor clanking and scraping. The tips of their horns glinted in the sunlight as they tried to gore their rivals. Foam built up around their gnashing teeth, and their nostrils flared red. Now that they were airborne, the elemental magic lit up the sky: fireballs, dust storms, flashes of lightning, walls of water. The sky battles raged against a backdrop of fluffy white clouds. Riders’ right palms glowed with elemental power as they desperately tried to fight their way along the racecourse.
