{Elira}
~**^**~
The cool dawn air brushed against my cheeks as I stepped out.
Zenon was already behind the wheel, engine low and steady, his gaze flicking briefly to before shifting back to the road.
"Front," he said simply, just like yesterday.
I nodded, slipping into the passenger seat. Rennon and Lennon took the back, and in no ti the jeep rolled out of the quiet street, the tyres humming against the asphalt.
The silence wasn’t heavy; it was early, the kind of quiet that belonged to dawn. I rested my hands on my bag, watching the blur of trees and rooftops give way to the town.
When we pulled up at the café, Zenon parked without a word, and we all stepped out of the jeep and headed inside.
The warm sll of roasted coffee and fresh bread wrapped around instantly. But my stomach tightened from nerves.
Still, when Rennon placed a tray in front of minutes later, the sight of warm pastries and tea made realize that feeding my stomach was very important.
Imdiately, I picked up my fork. The first bite hit my stomach like fire eting cool water, and I hadn’t realized how hollow I felt until then.
The mont stretched quietly, strangely intimate. Just the four of us, tucked away in a sleepy corner of town, the world outside barely awake.
Lennon leaned his elbow on the table, chin resting in his palm as he watched with an insufferable grin.
"I thought you would refuse the food. I didn’t know you would imdiately start eating without a protest."
I narrowed my eyes at him, but the corner of my lips betrayed , twitching. "Don’t get used to it."
"Too late," he said, winking.
Rennon’s quiet chuckle broke the tension. Zenon didn’t laugh, didn’t smile, but his gaze lingered a second longer before dropping back to his coffee.
The rest of the al passed in relative quiet, broken only by Lennon’s occasional remark and Rennon nudging another bite my way when I slowed.
By the ti we stepped back outside, dawn had fully stretched across the sky, painting the streets in pale gold.
The air was crisp, clean, and buzzing faintly with the nervous energy building in my chest.
Zenon slid behind the wheel again. "Let’s go."
I climbed into the front seat, settling my bag on my lap and Rennon and Lennon took the back.
The drive to ESA was short, the sight of the academy gates looming faster than I expected.
The sight of the familiar stone buildings brought back the rhythm of ordinary life, even if nothing about felt ordinary anymore.
As the jeep slowed to a stop, my pulse quickened. Back to reality. Back to questions I couldn’t yet answer.
"Go," Zenon said simply, his gaze fixed ahead.
I reached for the handle, about to step out, when Lennon leaned forward from the back seat. His grin was easy, but his eyes flickered with sothing steadier.
"Don’t forget—you’ve got training after school with us today."
"I won’t," I said softly, hugging my bag closer.
Rennon gave a small nod. Zenon didn’t say anything, but his gaze brushed over once, firm and unreadable, before shifting back to the path ahead.
I slipped out of the jeep, the morning air cool on my face. Behind , Zenon drove off while I crossed the courtyard as just another student with fire burning under her skin.
Heading toward the academy building, my steps felt lighter than they should have, considering the weight of everything waiting inside .
Then I rembered my friends and pulled out my phone as I walked. Straightaway, I opened our group chat.
Elira: [Good morning~ I’m back on school grounds.]
The replies ca almost instantly.
Cambria: [Finally! The dorm felt weird without you.]
Nari: [ESA was boring. Like, painfully boring. Welco back, roomie!]
Tamryn: [Where are you? We should et up.]
Juniper: [Eliraaa!!]
I bit back a laugh, smiling down at the screen as my thumbs moved.
Elira: [I was gone for just a day. How could you possibly miss this much?]
There was a pause, then Nari’s ssage popped up.
Nari: [That’s not how missing works. Ti doesn’t asure it. People do.]
I slowed a step, the words sinking deeper than I expected. My chest ward.
Elira:[Fine. I will see you all at lunch.]
A chorus of ’yes!’s and a line of emojis filled the chat. I slipped my phone into my pocket, still smiling as I pushed open the academy doors.
The halls humd with the sound of students filtering toward classes. I made my way to the locker room, weaving past familiar faces.
At my locker, I slid my heavy backpack inside with relief, the weight lifting off my shoulders.
From inside, I pulled out the neat stack of what I needed for first period: my notebook, a pen, and the thick text for Combat Tactics and Pack Defense.
I shut the locker door with a soft clang, then tapped my phone screen to silence before tucking it deep into my pocket.
A deep breath steadied , and then I headed down the corridor, my footsteps leading toward the classroom where the day would begin.
---
The mont I stepped into the classroom, the noise cut off like soone had pulled a plug. Laughter, chatter, even the scrape of chairs all fell into silence.
Dozens of eyes turned on .
Not sharp with mockery like before or dripping with disdain. Instead, it was just curious. Watching and asuring.
My skin prickled under their gazes, and I knew why. Today, I seed different from the "Oga" they have always known as.
Sothing had shifted, though none of them knew the truth behind it.
I tightened my grip on my notebook, lifted my chin, and walked straight past them all, and slid into my desk, keeping my eyes fixed on the wood grain.
The air thickened with anticipation until the door swung open and the Professor strode in, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade.
He didn’t waste ti. His gaze swept across the room, sharp as a wolf’s snarl.
"Today’s lecture will focus on adaptive combat," he began, his voice carrying with the weight of command. "Speed, precision, unpredictability. These are the traits that separate survivors from corpses on the battlefield."
Pens scratched faintly against paper as he moved to the board, drawing quick diagrams of positioning and flanking. His words cracked through the silence like whips.
Then his gaze flicked up, colder and more deliberate. "Those of you who drew the red cards—"
My heart lurched.
"—You should pay particular attention today. The combat contests to determine the top ten will begin this evening."
Almost imdiately, a ripple of gasps, murmurs and nervous laughter went through the room.
The professor didn’t so much as blink. Instead, he continued. "Nas will be called at random. You may find yourself fighting before the sun sets. So, be prepared, or be humiliated. The choice is yours."
My chest tightened, the words slamming into harder than I wanted to admit. This evening? Already?
Once again, the brothers didn’t notify about this.
I gripped my pen so tightly it pressed into my fingers, and my notes were little more than hurried scratches across the page.
Adaptive combat. Speed, precision, unpredictability.
I knew the words, heard them clearly enough, but they kept slipping through like water through a sieve.
My mind was already two steps ahead, imagining tonight—the glare of lights, the echo of a na called, my body standing where I didn’t belong.
"Red cards an no excuses," The professor barked, pacing along the front row. "You will fight until the last bell of Founders’ Day. Only ten of you will stand at the end. Ten. That ans the rest of you will be weeded out—exposed in front of the entire Academy."
His gaze swept the room like a spotlight, pausing just long enough on the back rows that my heart lodged itself in my throat.
I forced myself to scribble down his diagrams on flanking manoeuvres, but the lines bent and crossed awkwardly.
All I could picture was myself against soone faster, sharper, with powers I couldn’t even touch yet, without fear of burning alive.
And at this perfect mont, Selene stirred faintly at the back of my mind with her steady presence.
"Breathe, Elira. You will not break on this stage."
It was easy for her to say this. My pulse thundered so loudly I was sure the people in the next row could hear it.
I glanced sideways and saw that a student who had drawn red was stiff with tension, while the other one wore a cocky smirk, already imagining his victory. I envied his confidence, even as my stomach turned.
By tonight, I could already be thrown into a fight.
And if I lost—if I failed, it wouldn’t just be on display. It would be the "Oga" girl who couldn’t live up to anything.
I dug my nails into my palm beneath the desk and made myself keep writing, even if none of it stayed in my head.
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