Page 17

A murmur of shock rippled through the room, the accusation hanging in the air like a poisoned knife.

I paused, her words striking me harder than any physical blow.

Lydia’s eyes darted toward me with a mix of concern and indignation, while Bethany’s lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval at Vivienne’s audacity.

The murmurs grew louder, a cacophony of disbelief and curiosity.

Professor Blackwood’s gaze narrowed slightly before her cool voice cut through the noise. "Miss Vale," she said calmly, "I trust you will demonstrate the spell as instructed."

Despite the tension that lingered in the wake of Vivienne’s accusation, I felt a flicker of determination ignite within me. I will show them. I will do more than prove I can perform the enchantment—I will exceed their expectations.

As I positioned myself at the front of the room, the weight of the amulet seemed both a burden and a reminder of my resolve. I closed my eyes to visualize the spell’s intention and began to trace the ancient runes with a shaking hand.

My fingers moved across the space before me, attempting to create the intricate pattern of light that would form the protective rune.

The pattern was complex—a series of interwoven lines that reminded me of constellations, each connection carrying meaning and power.

Under normal circumstances, I could have drawn it in seconds, but today my exhaustion was a weight pressing against my mind, making each movement feel slow and clumsy.

I traced the initial arc of light, the blue glow emanating from my fingertips as I reached for the magic that had always come so naturally.

But as I attempted to connect the central node to its first branch, my concentration faltered.

The whispers from the amulet intensified, becoming a distracting hum beneath my consciousness.

"Focus, Elvana. They are watching. Waiting."

"Not now," I murmured, too softly for anyone but myself to hear. My hand trembled slightly as I continued the pattern. The room had fallen completely silent, all eyes fixed on my movements. I could feel Vivienne's contemptuous stare burning into me, waiting for failure.

The rune began to take shape, glowing with ethereal blue light against the classroom's dim backdrop.

I was nearly halfway through when my vision blurred momentarily. Fatigue washed over me like a wave, and in that crucial second of distraction, my finger slipped—drawing a diagonal where there should have been a curve, connecting two points that should never meet.

The mistake was immediate and irreversible.

The rune flared with sudden intensity, its balanced structure collapsing as conflicting energies crashed together. A low, ominous hum filled the air, vibrating through the stone floor beneath us.

"Miss Vale—" Professor Blackwood began, alarm evident in her voice.

Before she could finish, the rune erupted.

A blinding explosion of white-gold light burst from the pattern, expanding outward in a concussive wave that shattered the silence with its thunderous roar.

The force of it threw me backward, my body colliding painfully with a desk as papers, quills, and various artifacts were violently hurled across the room.

Students screamed, diving beneath tables and shielding their faces as the blast tore through the classroom.

Books flew from shelves, their pages fluttering like startled birds.

Vials of enchanted ink shattered against the walls, leaving starburst patterns of sapphire and emerald that began to crawl across the stone like living things.

The light was so intense it left purple afterimages dancing across my vision as I struggled to regain my footing. The scent of sulfur and burnt parchment filled the air, mingling with the earlier incense to create a dizzying perfume of chaos.

"Everyone, remain calm!" Professor Blackwood commanded, her voice cutting through the pandemonium as she raised her hands, quickly drawing stabilizing runes to contain the residual energy rippling through the room.

The chaotic maelstrom lasted only seconds, but when it subsided, the classroom was in ruins. Shattered glass crunched beneath my feet as I pushed myself up from Where I’d fallen, the silence rang like a bell.

“See?” Vivienne’s voice shattered it, serrated and wild. “She’s trying to kill us!”

Gasps stirred, but she didn’t stop—didn’t even breathe.

“The Vale women always hide chaos behind the mask of protection,” she hissed, trembling with fury. “That’s what they do.”

She stepped forward, as if closing the distance could make her fury land harder, her hands slicing the air like blades.

“Queen Nightlock trusted the Vales to shield her army,” she spat. “And what did they do? Cursed them. Their so-called ‘protection’ lit the match that started the war between realms!”

A ripple of stunned murmurs moved through the classroom, but Vivienne turned on them like a prosecutor before a jury, eyes glittering with cruel certainty.

“And now?” Her voice rose again. “People are vanishing. One by one. You’ve all felt it.”

She paused just long enough for the weight of her words to sink in.

“And who’s always nearby when it happens?”

Her gaze snapped back to me.

“Elvana Vale. Half the power, double the secrets. Daughter of a filthy Ebonfrost nobody.”

The hush that followed was suffocating. Vivienne’s chest heaved, her fury still burning at the edges.

And then, just before the silence could settle—

Her eyes locked on mine, and she smiled.

Cold. Slow. Deliberate.

“Her heart’s probably as frozen as the gods-forsaken academy her father crawled out of.”

I forced back the tears fighting to break free. My vision blurred with unbidden moisture as her accusations pierced deeper than any flying debris. The amulet hung like an anchor against my chest, heavy with the weight of my family’s tangled history.

Our classmates stared, clearly taken aback by the destruction before them—and the severity of the scene unfolding.

Uneasy whispers rose around us, students exchanging looks of disbelief and furtive nods toward me.

Though I could barely see through the hot sting of tears, the sight of their bewildered expressions confirmed my worst suspicions—Vivienne’s words had stuck.

“How dare you,” I snapped, the words cutting free before I could temper them. “My father was a brilliant man.”

My voice trembled—more with rage than hurt now.

“He may not have had the wealth to buy his way into Drakestone, but his magic was extraordinary. ”

I stepped toward Vivienne, the defiance in my stance belying the turmoil within. My breath came quick and shallow, every inhale tasting of sulfur and betrayal. I didn’t care if I was adding fuel to her fire—she had no right to speak of me or my family that way.

Bethany’s hand reached for my arm in a gesture meant to calm, but I shook it off, too consumed by rage to consider the consequences.

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed as I advanced, satisfaction flickering behind her otherwise furious gaze. She wanted this.

“And it seems you inherited his lack of control along with his lack of ambition,” Vivienne shot back, unflinching. Her voice dripped venom, each word striking like a lash.

“No wonder Sam wants nothing to do with you. He’s finally seen through your little charade. Maybe he realized—”She leaned in, her eyes blazing. “—deceit runs thick in a Vale woman’s blood.”

“Ladies, that is enough!”

Professor Blackwood’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and commanding.

With a swift motion, she reached out and grasped our wrists, separating us as though dividing quarreling elements.

Drawing a deep breath, she raised her hands, her voice steady as she began a Latin incantation: "Restaura chaos; repara fracta!"

At first, nothing happened. Then the air in the ruined classroom stirred.

I watched in awe as the debris—shattered glass, scattered books, and splatters of enchanted ink—seemed to recoil.

Books flew back to their shelves as if guided by an unseen hand; vials and spilled liquids coalesced, shimmering as they floated upward before dissipating into mist. The remnants of enchanted ink, once streaking the stone walls in chaotic patterns, slowly faded away, replaced by the familiar, well-ordered lines of the classroom’s ancient architecture.

The incantation rolled on, each syllable reverberating through the room with a force that bent the lingering threads of wild magic into submission. My eyes burned, still brimming with tears—indignation, betrayal, something deeper I couldn’t name—but even through the blur, I couldn’t look away.

Shards of shattered glass hovered in the air like falling stars, caught in a slow, elegant descent.

They spiraled downward toward a row of polished obsidian receptacles etched with containment runes, vessels clearly meant for volatile magical remnants.

As the last of the debris settled, the harsh scent of sulfur began to lift, replaced by sandalwood smoke curling through the air like a quiet balm.

For the first time since the spell began, the space felt still again—cleansed, but not untouched.

Vivienne’s smirk faltered as the tide of chaos reversed, and for a long moment, the room was silent except for the echo of Blackwood’s final words.

"Ordinem restituo."

The classroom, once a scene of destruction, now resembled its former state—a somber, candlelit hall lined with wooden desks and meticulously arranged artifacts.

Yet beneath the surface of restored order, a palpable tension lingered. Our classmates, wide-eyed and unsettled, exchanged glances that spoke of the deep fissures newly etched among us.

I lowered my gaze, the sting of Vivienne’s accusations mingling with the residue of the magical intervention. Though the chaos had been undone, the wounds of her words—and the tumultuous burst of my own emotions—remained etched in my chest.