{Elira}
~**^**~
Cambria squeezed my hand. "Elira, whatever it is, you will handle it well like you always do."
I tried to breathe past the sudden tightness in my chest and nodded. "Yeah. You’re right. I will just wait and see."
After breakfast, we gathered our trays and left the cafeteria together, laughter and chatter from other tables echoing around us.
But my mind was elsewhere—the vice chancellor’s calm face during assemblies, her poised voice, her sharp gaze that missed nothing.
’Why would she want to see ?’
By the ti I reached the hallway, the question still hadn’t settled. I stopped by a window, pulling out my phone.
My reflection in the glass looked more nervous than I wanted to admit. Quickly, I pulled up Zenon’s contact and typed,
"Good morning, Professor Zenon. The Vice Chancellor just summoned during lunch. I’m not sure why. Thought I should let you know."
I stared at the screen for a second, debating whether to add ’I’m nervous’, but decided against it. Zenon didn’t need my emotions—just the facts.
Still, when I hit send, I felt a flicker of relief, like I had passed a heavy weight to soone else who could carry it.
I slid my phone back into my pocket and headed toward my classroom. Even as I reached the door, my hands felt oddly clammy.
When I stepped inside, the chatter dipped almost imdiately. Heads turned. I didn’t even need to guess why.
The whispers about ’Elira Shaw, the Oga who isn’t really an Oga’, had spread faster than wildfire after the last duel.
I kept my gaze forward, pretending not to notice the curious glances, and made my way to my usual seat at the back.
The sunlight filtered through the blinds, drawing gold stripes across my desk as I sat down and tried to breathe normally.
Just then, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out quickly, half-expecting a ssage from one of my friends—but it was from Zenon.
"There’s nothing to worry about. If the vice chancellor called you, it isn’t to reprimand you. Stay calm."
My shoulders loosened a little as I read it again. His words were short, typical of him—straightforward and clipped, but they grounded all the sa.
If Zenon said not to worry, then maybe I could stop imagining the worst.
A tiny smile tugged at the corners of my lips before I set the phone down on the desk, screen facing up.
Just then, the classroom doors opened, and a female professor strode in, holding a stack of neatly bound notes, her sharp gaze sweeping across the room.
"All right, everyone, settle down," she said briskly, placing the notes on her table. "Let’s continue where we left off on Monday."
Imdiately, books and tablets shuffled open around as I grabbed my mine.
---
The bell chid softly, signalling the end of the first class.
I gathered my books with hands that felt oddly heavy, ignoring the lingering buzz of chatter around .
My pulse had been pacing ahead of all morning, and it only quickened now that it was ti.
At my locker, I slid my notebook and pen inside, took a steadying breath, and tapped on my smartwatch. Next, I looked for the direction to the vice chancellor’s office.
A small holographic map appeared above the screen, tracing a glowing path from the academic building to the administrative wing on the far east side of campus.
I stared at the digital line for a heartbeat longer than necessary before finally moving.
Outside, the sun had climbed higher, spilling light across the courtyards and tall glass windows of ESA.
The air slled faintly of distant pine—normally calming, but not today. My stomach twisted tighter with every step.
Students passed on their way to lunch, their laughter and conversations blurring together.
I clutched my phone in one hand, glancing at the ti every few seconds as though the minutes might sohow change their minds about where I was going.
When I finally reached the administrative building, the change in atmosphere was imdiate.
Quiet. Polished. Every step echoed against marble floors, the faint scent of lavender polish filling the air.
Behind a wide wooden desk sat a woman in neat silver-rimd glasses, her blonde hair pulled into a low bun.
She looked up from her screen the second I approached and smiled warmly, her tone as composed as her appearance.
"Miss Elira Shaw," she said, as though she’d been expecting all along. "The vice chancellor will see you now."
I blinked. "She’s... waiting for already?"
"Yes." The secretary stood gracefully and gestured for to follow. "This way, please."
I nodded, my throat dry, and fell into step behind her.
The quiet click of her heels against the floor filled the corridor, and each sound seed to echo through my chest.
We stopped before a tall mahogany door with an engraved silver plaque: Vice Chancellor.
The secretary turned to , her expression kind. "Go right in."
I swallowed hard, nodded again, and gently pushed the door open.
The vice chancellor’s office was warm, elegant—soft light spilling through tall arched windows, dust motes drifting lazily through the air. A faint scent of tea leaves lingered, sharp but calming.
Behind the broad oak desk sat Vice Chancellor Ilyra Vane, her silver hair pulled into a low twist, her eyes—strikingly pale—lifting from a docunt as I entered.
They held a kind of quiet power, the sort that didn’t need to demand attention because it already owned the room.
"Miss Shaw," she said, her voice even but carrying that unmistakable tone of command that made you stand straighter without realizing it. "Please, have a seat."
I obeyed imdiately, my palms resting flat on my knees to steady their tremor.
She studied for a few seconds longer than felt comfortable, then set her pen down. "You must be wondering why I asked to see you."
I nodded, my voice coming out softer than I intended. "Yes, ma’am."
Her lips quirked in what might’ve been a faint smile. "Word spreads quickly in ESA—sotis faster than the truth itself. I’ve been hearing your na quite a lot lately."
My throat tightened. "I hope it’s not because of trouble."
That earned a small chuckle from her, delicate but real. "Trouble? No. On the contrary, you’ve managed to capture the attention of nearly everyone here, Miss Shaw. A first-year Oga who keeps winning every duel in the combat elimination rounds."
The word ’Oga’ lingered between us.
Then, her gaze sharpened—piercing and discerning. "But you are no Oga."
My breath hitched, my pulse skipping.
She leaned back in her chair, studying as though seeing beneath my skin. "Even though it be subtle," she said slowly, "I can see that small fire in you."
For a mont, I forgot how to breathe. I opened my mouth to speak, but she lifted a hand gently, stopping before I could find the words.
"There was once another student in ESA," she continued, her tone turning almost nostalgic. "A young woman who made a na for herself in combat. Her duels were legendary. She fought with such intensity that even the instructors whispered about her long after she graduated. That na has never been forgotten since then."
Sothing in the way she said it made my heart stutter. A quiet, inevitable realization began to form.
’She is talking about her... my mother.’
The vice chancellor’s eyes flicked back to . "Tell , Miss Shaw... what about your parents?"
The question hit like a slight, cold shock. I shifted in my seat, unsure why the answer suddenly felt heavy on my tongue. "They are both... gone," I said carefully.
"I know," she said, her voice gentling. "I was asking about their nas."
For a heartbeat, the room felt too still. The light from the window glinted faintly off her pen, catching in her pale eyes.
I swallowed, then whispered, "Kathryn Morgan and Elias Shaw."
For a heartbeat, the silence in the room felt alive.
Vice Chancellor Ilyra’s composure faltered, just slightly, but enough for to see the faintest flicker crossed her face—recognition, then sothing more profound, older.
Her lips parted, and she leaned back in her chair, blinking once as though she needed to process what I had just said.
"Did you say... Kathryn Morgan?"
I nodded, uncertain. "Yes. My mother."
Her pale eyes widened for a fraction of a second—then softened, and a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh slipped past her lips. "By the Goddess... I should have known."
"You knew her?" My brows furrowed.
"Knew her?" Her smile deepened, touched with sothing nostalgic and proud. "Kathryn Morgan wasn’t rely a student here. She was ESA’s pride and brightest fla. The youngest in her year to ever top the Combat and Strategy division."
Then, her tone grew warr as she spoke, a glimr of admiration lighting her expression.
"Your mother had a gift that couldn’t be taught. She fought with precision and patience—never wasted a strike, never raised her power unless it was necessary. I taught her myself for two years, and even then, she often left speechless."
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