Queen of the Ashes

Chapter Five 

*****

Roverthhood Academy gleamed beneath the glow of lanterns strung across its courtyards. The ivy walls, once prisons of whispers and shame, now seemed to bow before her. Elara walked through the archways, the click of her shoes deliberate, steady.

Students who once sneered at her fell silent when she passed. Some lowered their eyes. Others who dared to look quickly averted their eyes as if they were burning. An Unspoken reluctant respect clung to the air like a mantle around her.

She no longer felt the fragile exile who had left here weeks ago. That girl had died with Robin Sterling, fire and sharpened steel were all that remained.

---

The ballroom Glistered with sparkling chandeliers and full of students in swirling gowns in shades of emerald gold color. They were laughing and talking as glasses clinked. Head held high, Elara walked through the opulent door, and murmurs echoed through the crowd as she stepped inside.

“She came back?”

“Look at her dress—black? At a ball?”

“Doesn’t she know mourning makes her untouchable?”

But no one dared laugh aloud.

At the far end of the hall, Alice Vale stood among her clique, lips painted cruel red. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted Elara.

“Well,” Alice murmured loudly enough for others to hear, “the orphan ghost crawled back from the ashes.”

Her friends snickered, the sound sharp.

Elara turned her head slowly, gaze locking with Alice’s. She did not flinch. Did not retreat. Instead, she crossed the floor, heels striking like drumbeats. The crowd parted in silence.

“Alice,” Elara said evenly. “Still desperate for an audience, I see.”

Gasps flickered around them. Alice’s smirk faltered.

“You dare—”

“Dare what?” Elara’s voice sliced, calm, unyielding. “To speak truth? To remind everyone here that you hide behind others’ laughter because alone, you are nothing?”

Alice stiffened. Color rose in her cheeks. “Careful. Words have consequences.”

“So do schemes,” Elara replied. “And you should be careful. This is your last chance to play games with me.”

For the first time, the balance shifted. Alice’s followers glanced between them, unease in their eyes.

---

Later, when the music swelled, Alice made her move. As couples spun across the floor, servants carried trays of wine. Alice whispered instructions, her hands quick, sly.

The plan was simple: spill crimson wine across Elara’s black gown, ruin her composure before the crowd. Humiliate her as they had always done.

But Elara felt it before it happened. The goddess’s fire whispered at the edges of her mind, warm and alive. She saw the servant approaching, tray trembling.

Now, the flame murmured.

Elara raised her eyes. For a heartbeat, her gaze met the servant’s. The tray steadied. The wine never spilled. Instead, as if fate shifted, Alice’s own hand slipped on the glass in her grip.

Red wine splashed down her pale silk gown, blooming like blood.

The ballroom froze.

Alice gasped, clutching at the stain. “No—no, it wasn’t me—”

Her friends stared. Whispers surged through the crowd.

“Did you see?”

“She spilled it herself!”

“Clumsy fool.”

Elara curved her lips, but it wasn't quite a smile or a sign of mercy. The woman cocked her head.  “Careful, Alice. Words have consequences.”

Laughter rippled—not cruel, not at Elara, but at Alice. For the first time, the predator stood exposed, her power unraveling in public.

Alice’s eyes burned with humiliation. She opened her mouth to lash out—but no one listened. The tide had turned. Elara was untouchable.

---

The orchestra struck a new song, a bold rhythm. From the crowd, Derek Vale stepped forward. His eyes, hungry and fevered, locked on Elara.

“Enough,” he declared, voice carrying. “This farce ends now.”

All eyes shifted to him. He moved closer, bowing low before Elara. “I will not watch from the shadows anymore. Elara Sterling—before all of Roverthhood, I claim you as mine.”

A stunned silence fell.

Elara stiffened. “You what?”

Murmurs rose, scandal bursting like fire.

“He’s declaring?”

“Impossible—”

“She’ll refuse, surely—”

But Derek only smiled, eyes never leaving her. “You can fight me, mock me, burn me if you must—but you will not ignore me. I will be your shield. Your strength. Your everything.”

The words rang with obsession, not devotion.

From the far side, another voice cut through, sharp as steel.

“You overstep, Derek.”

Robert stepped forward, face dark with fury. His jaw was tight, fists clenched. “She is not yours to claim.”

The tension ignited like a spark to tinder. The crowd buzzed, torn between them. Rivalries that had always simmered now boiled into the open.

“Two heirs at war,” someone whispered.

“Elara at the center…”

“She divides the academy.”

Elara felt the weight of their stares. The chains of expectation. But she said nothing. Not yet. She let them burn themselves against her silence.

Derek glared at Robert. “Stay away. You don’t deserve to stand near her.”

Robert’s eyes flicked to Elara, softer, but full of warning. “And you do?”

The ballroom pulsed with anticipation. A storm had begun, and she was its eye.

---

The academy's towers were shadowed by the moonlight that night, long after the music had stopped and they had gone to sleep. Elara drew into the forest path, walking quietly by something within her older than the grief.

She entered the ruins of the temple, full of  broken and overgrown stone. As she moved, the arches of the dead flower clung to vines, and the air was heavy with memories. She stepped inside, panting in the cold.

The fire was waiting. Not flame as mortals knew it, but spirit—burning at the heart of the ruin, coiled in golden light.

“Elara Sterling,” it murmured, voice like embers crackling. “Daughter of Robin. Daughter of ash.”

 she dropped to her knees with a pounding heart. “Why do you call me here?”

"Because you are not just a child of man." The fire swirled, creating shadows that moved like warriors.  “You are heir to more than Sterling blood. You are heir to the forgotten throne. Heir of the goddess cast aside.”

Her throat tightened. “No… I’m just—”

“You are the flame reborn,” the spirit interrupted, voice fierce. “And the world will bow. Ash to ash. Fire to fire. You will rise, or you will burn.”

The fire surged higher, enveloping her in light. She felt heat course through her veins, fierce but not destroying. It was power. Claiming her. Becoming her.

Tears blurred her vision. “I can’t—”

“You already are,” the spirit whispered. “Queen of the Ashes. Heir of the Forgotten Goddess.”

Elara closed her eyes. For the first time, she did not deny. She did not flee.

She accepted.

The flames wrapped around her, and the ruins trembled with awakening power.

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