<h4>Chapter 159: Which Card Did Elira Shaw Draw?</h4>


    <strong><i>{Elira}</i></strong>


    ~**^**~


    Lennon’s grin widened, a sh of warmth behind it. "Because it means you’re not thinking of how to run away from this—you’re already thinking of how to win. That’s a huge difference, Elira."


    "I wasn’t—" I started, but Rennon cut in gently.


    "He’s right," he said, his voice calm, steady. "The fact that you’re worried about making it into the top ten means part of you already believes you can. And that matters a lot."


    I faltered, my protest caught in my throat. ’<i>Did I believe that? Or was it just fear making me desperate?’</i>


    Just them, Zenon’s low and sharp voice broke the silence. "Stop asking how you will fight. You will fight because you must. Whether you make the top ten depends on whether you start acting like you belong there."


    The words stung, but they also rooted somewhere deeper, buzzing under my skin.


    Lennon nudged Rennon with his elbow, his grin easing into something softer as his gaze came back to me.


    "See? You’ve got the best coach in the house. And Rennon and I aren’t letting you go through this alone either."


    Rennon nodded once, the quiet conviction in his eyes enough to steady me a little.


    I let out a shaky breath, unsure if I felt reassured or just more tangled up.


    "Alright. Since it’s Wednesday, you’re with me today," Rennon revealed as his eyes lingered on me for a moment longer.


    Something in my chest loosened, even if only a little. Training with Rennon never felt easy, but at least it wasn’t like being thrown into a hurricane.


    "Drop the nerves, Elira," he said gently. "Today, we will focus on precision. You already know how to defend and counter. Now, you need to start controlling the space around you."


    I moved to the centre of the mat, my limbs heavy with the sourness I couldn’t shake. Rennon followed, his stance calm but ready.


    "Rx your shoulders," he instructed. "If you tense up, you will lose speed."


    I tried to obey and follow his tips, though every one of my nerves screamed tight.


    "Good," he said quietly. Then, without warning, he flicked his hand and struck lightly at my arm.


    I flinched and stumbled back. "Hey—!"


    "That’s the point," Rennon said, calm as ever. "Combat isn’t polite, Elira. Stay grounded. Now let’s go again."


    We moved slowly at first, with me trying to mirror his steps and him pointing out every step. And when I slipped, he corrected me, his tone never harsh, always steady.


    "Better," he murmured after a quick block. "Now go faster."


    The rhythm picked up. My heart raced. Sweat gathered along my brow as I struggled to keep pace.


    Rennon pushed me, but never enough to break me. When I hesitated, his voice steadied me; and when I doubted, he urged me to try again.


    Behind him, Lennon called out, "Elira, watch his right foot! He’s about to—"


    Zenon cut him off with a small shake of his head. "Let her see for herself."


    A secondter, Rennon’s strike came, and I barely blocked in time.


    Breathless, I stared at him as he gave me a faint smile. "See? You can trust yourself more than you think. Now, let’s go again."


    His hand shot forward again, quicker this time. My body moved before my head did. I blocked, pivoted, and then struck. My palm brushed against his sleeve, but just missednding.


    I froze for a moment, blinking at the closeness of it. I was surprised because I never expected this possibility.


    "You almost had me," Rennon said with a quiet approval. "Try again."


    We reset. This time, I caught him. My strikended, light but firm against his chest before he twisted away.


    My chest tightened with disbelief. ’<i>That was me. I actuallynded something on him.’</i>


    But instead of lifting me, the thought only hollowed out. Because what did one lucky strike matter when the stage waiting for me wasn’t here in this quiet hall, but in front of the entire academy—and the King himself?


    Rennon smiled softly, reading the doubt in my face even if I didn’t voice it. "That’s progress, Elira. And progress is enough for today."


    I nodded faintly, wiping sweat from my brow, though my heart still felt heavy. ’<i>If this is progress, why does it feel like I’m standing still?’</i>


    Just then, Rennon pped my shoulder lightly before stepping back, signalling the end of the session.


    Lennon gave me a crooked grin, as if to cheer me, but even he didn’t try to joke this time.


    Just as I bent to catch my breath, Zenon’s voice cut through, t and sharp. "Remember, we are taking you to the witch this Sunday. Don’t forget to take a leave."


    The reminder mmed into me harder than any strike had done as I felt another weight, and another fear to worry about.


    <i>’What if my channels can’t be unlocked? What if my powers never resurface?’</i><fn68bd> Follow current nov?ls on find[?]ovel</fn68bd>


    I forced myself to straighten, though my chest felt tight enough to crack. "Okay," I murmured, though the word tasted bitter.


    Because now, I had something else to lie awake worrying about.


    ---


    By the time I dragged myself back to the dorm, every step felt heavy. My uniform clung with the faint dampness of sweat, and my hair stuck annoyingly to my temples.


    The moment I opened the door, Nari’s head popped up from her pillow. "You look like death. Confirm or deny?"


    "Confirm," I muttered, kicking my shoes off by the door.


    Juniper’s pencil paused mid-sketch, her sharp eyes flicking over me. "Professor Zenon again?"


    I didn’t answer right away, just sank onto my bed with a groan. Cambria, ever the quiet observer, slipped her notebook aside and asked softly, "Was it worse than Monday?"


    "Professor Rennon took over today," I said, muffled against my pillow. "He was... kinder. But I still feel like I got ttened."


    "That’s progress," Juniper said dryly, though there was a hint of warmth underneath.


    Progress or not, I curled further into my pillow, letting their voices blur into the background, too tired to fight the heaviness pressing in.


    ***


    <strong><i>{Regina}</i></strong>


    ~**^**~


    The tter of footsteps echoed down the corridor, students hurrying to and from their afternoon sses.


    And I stood at ease near one of the tall windows, arms folded, and my gaze sharp.


    Right at the perfect moment, a boy rounded the corner, his head bent, a stack of books bnced precariously in his arms.


    My lips curved faintly as I stepped into his path. And immediately, he skidded to a halt, eyes widening.


    I tilted my chin and flicked my eyes to the badge pinned neatly on his jacket. "Rn, isn’t it?" I asked, my tone smooth but sharp enough to make him stiffen.


    "Y-Yes," he stammered as he briefly nced at my jacket.


    I let my gaze linger just long enough for him to sweat. "You are a first-year student."


    He nodded quickly.


    "Good," I said, letting the word curl like silk on my tongue. "You will do something for me. Find out which colour of paper Elira Shaw picked from the box today."


    His brows twitched in surprise, but I tilted my head and smiled—not kindly, but the sort of smile that warned him not to argue.


    "When you’ve got the answer," I continued, "you will report back to me at the Student Council office. Alone."


    He bobbed his head in a frantic nod. "Yes."


    Then, I stepped aside, watching him scurry off, his arms tight around his books like they might shield him.


    Pathetic. But still useful.


    My heels clicked against the floor as I turned down the hall, satisfaction warming my chest.


    The rest of the council wouldn’t being in today. The office was mine—and that meant I could plot without their tedious eyes or questions.


    No interference. No rules.


    Just me.


    And soon enough, Elira Shaw’s secret would be mine as well.


    ---


    The Student Council office was empty when I slipped inside, just as I knew it would be.


    I let the door close behind me and walked straight to the long table where the council always sat.


    My fingers brushed the smooth wood before I sank into my seat, my eyes on Kaelis’s seat at the centre. She might be the President, but power didn’t always sit at the front.


    It lived in the details, in the whispers, in the things the others didn’t see until it was toote. That was my realm.


    I leaned back, crossing my legs, eyes lifting toward the shafts of light spilling in from the tall windows.


    Rn woulde crawling soon, and with him, the truth I needed.


    <i>Which card did Elira Shaw draw?</i>


    The question itched at the back of my mind like a spark. Everything depended on it. If the little nobody had pulled a harmless colour, then she could fade into her usual irrelevance.


    But if it was something else—something bold, dangerous, above her station—then fate had handed me a gift.


    My lips curved into a slow smile.


    Kaelis could y at being the golden princess, the face of this council. I didn’t care. Because I was the one who could twist information into a de.


    And once I knew what Elira Shaw held in her hand, I would sharpen that de until it cut her down in front of everyone.


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