{Elira}
~**^**~
"Elira," Zenon’s voice cut through the chaos, firm but steady. "Breathe."
I obeyed him without thinking.
Then the fire flickered, dimd, and dissolved into faint steam.
My knees buckled, but Zenon caught by the wrist, pulling upright. His grip was steady—strong enough to hold .
When I finally looked up, he was watching intently, a hint of concern hidden beneath his calm expression.
"That," he said quietly, "is what happens when you let your emotions lead. On Founder’s Day, if you lose control like that, you will burn yourself before anyone else touches you."
I swallowed hard, still shaking. "I didn’t an to—"
"I know," he said, letting go of my wrist. "That’s why you are learning now."
He stepped back, giving space. "You did better than I expected for your first controlled surge. But you’re still thinking like a fighter. You need to start thinking like a weapon."
His words made my chest tighten. I stared at my hands, faint scorch marks dusting my skin. "A weapon," I echoed softly.
He gave a single nod. "You are not here to survive the fight, Elira. You are here to win it."
The forest was silent around us, save for the whisper of wind through the leaves.
I took a breath—slow, shaky—and t his gaze. "Then teach how."
Sothing flickered in Zenon’s eyes—approval, maybe. Or the ghost of a smile.
"Tomorrow," he said finally. "Sa place. Sa ti. We will test your endurance."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving alone with the faint smoke curling from the ground and a fire still humming beneath my skin.
When I returned to the dorm, the familiar sound of chatter drifted through the half-open door before I even stepped in.
My friends were already gathered—Cambria sitting cross-legged on her bed with a notebook in hand, Juniper brushing out her hair by the mirror, and Nari lying on her stomach, her feet swaying lazily in the air.
They all looked up as I entered.
"Elira, you’re back!" Cambria said brightly, closing her notebook. "You missed the dorm mistress earlier. She ca by to ask how many people each of us wants to invite for Founders Day. She said we have to submit the nas by tomorrow morning."
I hesitated for a mont, setting my backpack down by the desk. "Oh."
Cambria tilted her head. "So? Who are you inviting?"
A small sigh slipped past my lips. "No one," I said quietly, tugging at the sleeve of my mofti top. "I don’t have anyone to invite."
The room went still for a few seconds. Even Nari stopped swinging her feet. I crossed the room and sat on my bed, staring down at my hands.
It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought about it before. I had no one outside ESA.
My uncle would be coming for Regina, and Alpha Cyprus would probably attend as part of the royal guests, but inviting him? That would have felt... wrong.
Cambria’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I’m sorry, Elira," she said softly.
I forced a small smile. "It’s fine. I will just cheer for myself."
A beat of silence followed, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then Juniper, ever the mood-lifter, clapped her hands once and changed the subject.
"Anyway, since Founders Day is just a week away, they have given a new order. We are not allowed to leave ESA tomorrow."
That made Nari groan dramatically. "You an we are stuck here for the weekend? Ugh, I was planning to go out to the market. The sll of fresh bread alone would have made my whole week."
Juniper chuckled. "Apparently, it’s for safety reasons. They don’t want anyone wandering outside with so many guests scheduled to arrive next week."
Nari flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "Still, I’m going to miss leaving the school walls. And after Founders Day, it’s exams—no more breathing, no more fun, just studying until my brain lts."
Cambria snorted. "You act like you study now."
"Hey!" Nari threw a pillow at her, and it hit the floor harmlessly. The tension in the room eased, soft laughter replacing the earlier silence.
I leaned back against my bedfra, letting their banter wash over . For a mont, I forgot about the ache in my limbs and the heat that still humd faintly under my skin from training with Zenon.
Founders Day was only a week away. One week until everything I had worked for—the duels, the training, the whispers and rumours—ca to a head.
I wasn’t sure what would happen then. But as I looked around at my friends—my small, steady circle of support—I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to face it alone.
***
The next day after lunch, the woods felt cooler, a sharp breeze threading through the trees as sunlight broke in flecks across the mossy ground.
I slowed when I spotted three familiar figures waiting ahead. My heart jumped, not just from nerves, but sothing else entirely.
Rennon stood beside the old tree stump, his arms crossed but his expression soft, like he had been waiting for longer than he would admit.
Lennon leaned against a rock nearby, tossing a pinecone between his hands, his easy grin already in place.
And Zenon... well, Zenon was simply there, straight-backed, composed, his presence pulling at my chest in a way I didn’t dare define.
"Good afternoon," I greeted, my gaze wandering from one figure to the other.
Lennon chuckled, stepping forward. "You are five minutes late, little wolf. I was beginning to think you were dodging us now that you are a Top Ten combatant."
Instantly, heat rose to my cheeks. "I wasn’t—"
Rennon’s hand rested gently on my shoulder, stopping my flustered words. "He is teasing you. We are proud of you, Elira. You’ve done more than we imagined in so short a ti."
His tone held genuine warmth, the kind that filled the quiet spaces Zenon never did. "And... I brought these."
He nodded to a small paper bag on the rock. He had brought snacks for . My throat tightened with an unexpected ache of gratitude.
"You didn’t have to—"
"Of course he did," Lennon interrupted, smirking. "You burn energy faster than a wildfire. Soone has to keep you from fainting in the middle of Zenon’s ’Endure or Die’ sessions."
"Lennon," Zenon’s voice cut through, low but sharp.
"What? It’s true," Lennon muttered under his breath, tossing a wink.
Zenon turned to . "Eat sothing first," he said, softer this ti. "You will need your strength."
I did as told and had a few bites of vanilla muffins and fruits before Zenon gestured to the open clearing.
"Today’s lessons will be different," he said, pacing before . "You have learned form and restraint. Now, you learn endurance. Not just of the body, but of your power."
My breath caught at the last word.
He continued, his tone calm but precise. "Your opponents on Founder’s Day won’t fight with fists alone. They will use everything they’ve got—strength, instinct, and ability. So, you will see how to face that."
He nodded once toward his brothers. "Lennon. Rennon."
Lennon rolled his shoulders, that trademark grin curving his lips as he faced Rennon in the open clearing.
"You sure you are ready for this, brother? I wouldn’t want to singe your vision out of you."
Rennon didn’t even blink. "You will have to land a hit first."
I stood beside Zenon, my heart thudding. I could already feel the faint pulse of heat gathering around Lennon—that low hum that always seed to vibrate in his presence when he used his fire ability.
But Rennon? He stood completely still, calm as still water, eyes unfocused for half a second as though he was... elsewhere.
"Watch closely," Zenon said beside . "This is what it ans to know your opponent before they act."
Before I could respond, Lennon lunged. Fast. A streak of warmth cut through the air as a trail of fla arced with his swing. I gasped—but Rennon had already moved, effortlessly.
He sidestepped with barely an inch to spare, his body fluid, anticipating the strike before it ca.
He didn’t counter right away. He simply flowed, every dodge perfectly tid, his expression composed while Lennon grew more aggressive with each failed hit.
"Co on, Ren!" Lennon barked with a grin, throwing another fiery jab. "At least pretend I’m a challenge."
"You’re too loud to be a challenge," Rennon murmured, stepping into the fla’s blind side and tapping Lennon’s wrist.
The motion was so small, so fast, that I almost missed it, but the fla sputtered, breaking focus.
Zenon’s voice carried again. "See it, Elira? He’s not faster. He’s not stronger. He simply knows."
And it was true. There was sothing eerie about the way Rennon moved, like he was dancing half a second ahead of ti.
Every ti Lennon charged, Rennon was already there, blocking, evading and parrying with quiet precision.
Lennon finally stopped, panting lightly, his smirk thinning. "You and that creepy third eye again, huh?"
Rennon smiled faintly, tilting his head. "It’s not creepy if it keeps alive."
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