---
The air was thick with tension after Lyrium's trial, his chaotic lightning still crackling faintly in the courtyard.
I stood silently among the crowd, my posture poised, my hands loosely clasped in front of me.
The whispers swirled around like gnats—distracting, but ultimately inconsequential.
"Unstable… but powerful," someone murmured behind me.
"Can someone like that even control his affinity?"
I didn't turn. I didn't need to.
The doubt in their voices was so… predictable.
They always spoke like this when something didn't fit neatly into their carefully curated expectations.
But I had seen it. Lyrium's performance was raw, chaotic, yes—but there was undeniable power in it.
Untamed, perhaps, but potent.
And he knew it. As he crossed his arms and stared back at the obelisk, there wasn't a shred of hesitation in his expression.
No anxiety.
No need to justify himself.
That, more than his affinity, caught my attention.
A man like him didn't care what others thought, and in a place like this, that made him… interesting.
But my interest was fleeting. I had no time to dwell on what was essentially an incomplete performance.
He was unrefined—a lightning storm with no clear path.
Then, the parchment shimmered again, and I heard Headmistress Emily's voice, clear and deliberate.
"Margaret Windsor."
The whispers shifted immediately.
Of course they did.
"Margaret Windsor? The royal family from Switzerland!"
"She's the Windsor heir. A prodigy, they say—mastery of multiple elements already!"
"And have you seen her? She's—"
Perfect.
I didn't have to hear the rest to know what they were saying.
I had heard it all before.
The awe.
The admiration.
The envy.
It followed me everywhere.
As I stepped forward, the crowd parted instinctively, as they always did.
I could feel their gazes—some reverent, others resentful—but none daring to look too closely.
I moved with purpose, my head high, each step deliberate and precise.
This was my stage, after all.
The obelisk loomed ahead of me, humming faintly as I approached.
Its energy seemed to pulse in anticipation.
Even it, it seemed, understood who was standing before it.
I raised my hand and placed it against the smooth, cold surface.
There was no hesitation.
The reaction was immediate.
The obelisk erupted in a dazzling silver light, arcs of frost spiraling upward like a dance of stars.
I felt the temperature drop as the ground beneath me grew slick with frost.
The air crystallized, sharp and biting, as my trial began to manifest.
A glacier.
Tall, jagged, and imposing, it towered above me, radiating cold so intense it burned.
Then it moved, shards of ice hurtling toward me with deadly precision.
But I was ready.
I raised my hand, summoning a barrier of frost that rippled outward in shimmering waves.
The shards shattered harmlessly against it, falling to the ground in glinting fragments.
I advanced, my movements measured and deliberate, each step bringing me closer to the glacier.
Every attack it sent my way was met with precision—ice shields that curved flawlessly, counters that required no wasted effort. Control.
That was the difference between my trial and Lyrium's.
Where his power had been reckless and untamed, mine was disciplined, calculated, absolute.
Then came the final challenge.
The glacier shifted, its jagged peaks collapsing into a roaring avalanche.
The sound was deafening, the sheer force of it enough to send even the most talented mage into retreat.
But I stood my ground, summoning a column of frost that erupted from the earth and split the avalanche cleanly in two.
The shards dissolved into glittering snowflakes, drifting harmlessly around me as the trial ended.
Silence.
I lowered my hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face.
The courtyard was frozen in more ways than one—silent, still, captivated. I didn't need to look at them to know what they were feeling.
Awe.
Admiration.
Fear.
Headmistress Emily inclined her head slightly, a gesture of approval so rare it might as well have been applause.
"Well done, Margaret Windsor. Step back."
I turned without hesitation, my expression calm, composed.
My steps carried me back to the crowd, their gazes following me like shadows.
I was aware of their awe, but I didn't care for it.
Their opinions were inconsequential—nothing I hadn't heard a thousand times before.
They could whisper, speculate, idolize all they wanted. It made no difference to me.
But as I passed Lyrium, I allowed my gaze to flick toward him.
Our eyes met for the briefest of moments.
Unlike the others, he didn't avert his gaze. He didn't look nervous or intimidated.
He didn't look impressed, either. He just… stared back, as though he were studying me the same way I had studied him.
Interesting.
I turned away without another thought, disappearing into the crowd.
The whispers continued, but I ignored them.
Lyrium's trial had been raw, unrefined. He had potential, certainly, but he lacked control.
Still… there was something there. Something untamed.
Dangerous.
Perhaps the same could be said about me.
But as I reached the edge of the crowd, I couldn't shake the thought.
Why had he met my gaze like that? Why wasn't he awed—or fearful?
The obelisk hummed again, and Emily's voice rang out once more.
"Ren Sullivan."
I let the thought drift away as the crowd stirred again.
The next trial had begun, and the academy's drama continued.
---