Chapter Six – The Thorn in the Crown

Elara returned to Roverthhood in her armor of grief. Her black dress held her like a shadow walking steadily, the students in the dining hall looked up as she walked in, their  words twisted with malice, conversations paused, then resumed with sharper edges. Before she had even touched her tray, Alice's voice rang out in the room.

“So,” Alice drawled, her laughter pitched high for the crowd, “the little orphan returns. I thought perhaps you’d gone to bury your curse alongside your father.”

The words cut like knives. Whispers spread quickly as forks clattered and Elara burned with anger, her knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip on her cup, but she remained silent. The silence became its own cruelty, feeding Alice's smile.

“She doesn’t deny it,” Alice added. “Perhaps death follows her like perfume. Sit near her long enough and we’ll all choke on it.”

A sharp, poisonous laughter sounded from Alice's table. A voice reverberated throughout the hallway before she could reply.

"It's enough."

Derek Blackthorne strode forward, dark uniform immaculate, his movements deliberate. Like a knight at court, he paused at Elara's side and extended his hand. His hungry, smoldering eyes never left hers.

Derek said loudly enough to be heard, "Let them laugh." They make fun of their fears. Nobody here will dare whisper again if you stand with me, Elara.

His eyes conveyed a different message than his words, which were a performance designed for the audience. They were sharp and possessive, as if he already owned her.

 Robert Sinclair rose from his table before Elara could reply. His chair scraped violently against the floor, as  his voice thundered.

“Blackthorne, take your hand away.”

The hall shifted, tension crackling. Students looked from one heir to the other, sensing a storm. Derek’s lips curved into a smile, cold as steel.

“Protective, Sinclair? Or jealous?”

Robert’s fists clenched. “She doesn’t need your hand. She doesn’t need you.”

“And yet she doesn’t stop me,” Derek replied smoothly, still holding his hand toward Elara. “Perhaps she prefers strength to empty words.”

Gasps rippled through the hall as  there had never been a physical opposition between the heir of Sinclair and Blackthorne. The academy itself seemed to hold its breath. Elara felt the weight of every stare pressing against her skin.

She rose without touching Derek’s hand. Her voice calm but steady  “I don’t need any of you to speak for me.”

The hall buzzed as whispers fly around like arrows. Both Derek’ and Robert tightened, but pride gleamed in their eyes. Elara turned her back on both of them, walking from the hall with her head high.

Yet the echo of laughter followed her into silence.

---

That evening, a sealed letter waited on her desk. The handwriting was her stepmother’s.

Effective immediately, your allowance and inheritance are frozen pending review. You will have no further access to funds until you prove worthy of the Vale name.

Ariana’s claws had reached even here. Elara crumpled the letter, her throat tightening. The academy walls were meant to be her refuge, but overshadowed with Ariana' s tricks and attacks every day.

She secretly left the dorm slipping back to the ruined temple that had haunted her dreams. The inside smelled of ash and old stone. Elara closed her eyes as she walked in, willing the goddess to speak.

Visions answered. Fire spread across her hands, racing down her arms. The flames leapt to Robert, devouring him whole. His scream tore through her mind as his face turned to ash. She cried out, collapsing against the altar.

“No,” she whispered. “Not him. Not anyone.”

The flames died leaving only her ragged breath. She leaned her forehead to the cold stone. “I will not use this gift. Not again. I swear it.”

The vow wrapped around her like chains.

---

Night fell. She tried to sleep, but mocking laughter dragged her awake. Voices outside her door. Alice’s clique. She knew the tone—sweet with malice.

When she stepped into the hallway, they caught half a dozen girls, pushing her down the corridor with forced cheer.

“Just a game,” one sang.

“A midnight study session,” another chimed.

They shoved her into the library, bolting the heavy door behind her. Elara pounded on it, demanding release, but their laughter echoed away. Silence followed, thick and waiting.

Then smoke curled beneath the shelves. The curtains along the far wall glowed red, fire spreading across the fabric.

Panic seized her chest. She ran to the windows, locked. The smoke grew heavier, clawing into her lungs. She coughed, desperate, pounding the door until her fists bruised.

“Help!” she screamed. “Please!”

No answer.

Her lungs burned. The heat closed in. Memories of her father’s death, Ariana’s laughter, Alice’s sneer—every cruelty pressed down upon her.

Her vow clanged in her head. I will not use this gift. Not again.

But instinct screamed louder. Her palms blazed, fire erupting in a violent rush. She thrust her hands forward, and flames shot from her skin—not wild, not consuming, but controlled. They devoured the fire that threatened her, swallowing it whole. The smoke vanished in a rush of heat.

When the last ember died, the door burst open. The threshold was crowded by the students whose faces  were pale, eyes wide.

 Elara stood in the center of the room painting heavily with a glowing hand and her hair blewing.

No one spoke. No one laughed.

Alice, pale as bone, whispered, “She… she burned it.”

Elara lifted her face breathing heavily and the fear that had stalked her since childhood crumbled in that moment. She was no longer prey.

She was fire.

And the academy saw it.

The whispers began, not mocking this time but reverent, fearful, awed. Students pulled back as she stepped forward, parting like water before her. No hand reached to stop her. No laugh dared to follow.

She walked past them, untouchable.

But in the shadows beyond the door, Derek’s eyes gleamed. Robert’s fists clenched. And above them all, unseen, Ariana’s claws curled tighter.

The night was silent, yet Elara knew—this was only the beginning.