Chapter 50 Trapped
Morning came too quickly. Elara felt someone shaking her shoulder insistently, pulling her out of a deep, uneasy sleep. She groaned softly and turned her face into the pillow, trying to escape the light flooding the room.
“Elara! Wake up. Wake up!” Seraphina’s voice was loud and urgent, far too cheerful for someone who had barely slept. Elara slowly opened her eyes, blinking several times as the unfamiliar ceiling came into focus. For a moment, she forgot where she was, then everything rushed back at once. The academy. The demons. Varian. The dining hall. This strange new world that still didn’t feel real.
“I’m awake,” she muttered hoarsely. Seraphina stood beside her bed with hands on her hips, already dressed in her uniform. Her long blue hair was tied neatly back, her eyes bright with excitement.
“You’re going to be late on your first full day,” she said.
“That would be a terrible start.” Elara pushed herself up slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. Her body felt heavy, like she had spent the whole night running instead of sleeping. Seraphina tossed a neatly folded bundle onto her bed.
“Your uniform,” she said proudly.
“I already picked your size.” Elara stared at it. The uniform was beautiful, dark fabric with silver linings, the academy’s crest embroidered over the chest. It looked nothing like the clothes she was used to wearing. It looked important. Powerful.
“I don’t even know where my class is,” Elara said quietly.
“That’s why I’m taking you,” Seraphina replied.
“Come on, Go and bath.” They changed quickly, and soon Elara stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing herself. The uniform fit her perfectly, hugging her frame in a way that made her feel… different. Her green hair stood out even more against the dark fabric, and her green eyes looked brighter than usual.
“You look amazing,” Seraphina said honestly. Elara swallowed.
“I feel like I don’t belong.” Seraphina rolled her eyes gently and grabbed her wrist.
“You’ll be fine. Everyone feels like that on their first day.”
They walked through the halls together, students rushing past them, laughter echoing, magic flickering casually in the air. Elara’s heart beat faster with every step. When they reached a split hallway, Seraphina stopped.
“This is your class,” she said, pointing.
“Mine’s that way.” Elara stared at the door like it might bite her.
“Just… breathe,” Seraphina added softly.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” Elara nodded. She watched Seraphina walk away before turning back to the door. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pushed it open.
The room went silent. Every head turned. Dozens of eyes landed on her at once curious, sharp, assessing. Elara felt her throat tighten as she stepped inside. The room was large and circular, with runes carved into the floor and walls. Energy hummed faintly in the air.
“You are late.” The voice was calm. Cold. Elara turned slowly. Standing at the front of the room was Lyonesse. She looked even more striking up close, golden hair cascading down her back, eyes glowing faintly as she regarded Elara with detached disinterest. She wore a darker version of the academy uniform, marking her as a senior. Elara’s heart sank.
“I—I’m sorry,” she said quickly, bowing her head. “I got lost.” Lyonesse didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at her.
“Take a seat,” she said flatly, turning back to the board. Elara hurried to an empty seat near the back, her face burning. Whispers started almost immediately.
“Is that the girl from yesterday?” “Her hair is really green…” “She looks human.” Elara clenched her hands on her lap and stared straight ahead.
Lyonesse began the lesson as if Elara didn’t exist, her voice smooth and confident as she spoke about magic flow, core energy, and lineage-based abilities. Students listened intently, some taking notes, others demonstrating small sparks of magic between their fingers. Elara tried to follow along. She really did. But none of it made sense to her. Magic core. Bloodline. Elemental affinity. She didn’t feel anything inside her. No warmth. No spark. Nothing.
After a while, Lyonesse turned back to face the class.
“Today,” she said, “we’ll begin with introductions. Name and ability.” A few students groaned softly, but one by one, they stood.
“I’m Kieran, fire elemental.”
“My name is Nyx, shadow witch.”
“I’m Rowan, half wolf, enhanced speed.” Each student demonstrated a small display of power, earning nods and murmurs of approval. Elara’s stomach twisted tighter with every introduction. What am I supposed to say?
Finally, Lyonesse’s gaze flicked toward her.
“You,” she said. “Stand.” Elara froze. Slowly, she stood up, legs trembling. “Name,” Lyonesse said coolly.
“Elara,” she replied, her voice barely steady. “And your ability?” Lyonesse asked. Silence. Elara swallowed.
“I… I don’t know,” she admitted. The room erupted in whispers. Lyonesse’s eyebrow arched slightly.
“You don’t know,” she repeated. Elara shook her head.
“My father didn’t tell me what I am. I don’t feel any ability yet.” Lyonesse stared at her for a long moment, then smiled. It wasn’t kind. It was sharp. Cruel.
“You’re telling me,” she said slowly, “that you’re sitting in my class with no ability?” Laughter rippled through the room.
“Is she serious?”
“A human?” “What is she doing here?” Elara’s chest tightened painfully.
“This academy isn’t a charity,” Lyonesse continued calmly.
“We train beings of power. Not… lost children.” More whispers. Elara lowered her head, her vision blurring.
She was weird again. Even here. Her fingers instinctively moved to her chest to the necklace her father had given her. The one he said belonged to her mother. The one that always made her feel safe.
Her fingers met bare skin. Her breath hitched. No. Her eyes widened as she searched frantically beneath her uniform. It was gone. Her heart dropped into her stomach.
“No…” she whispered. Panic surged through her. Her hands trembled violently now, her chest aching as if something precious had been ripped away from her. Without thinking, she turned and ran.
“Elara!” someone called. The door slammed open as she fled the classroom, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t care about the whispers anymore. She didn’t care who saw her. All she could think about was the necklace. Dad gave me that. It was Mum’s. She ran blindly down the halls, her sobs echoing, fear and humiliation twisting inside her chest. This world wasn’t welcoming anymore. It was cruel. And she had never felt more alone.
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The chamber of King Vyrian was silent except for the soft rustling of parchment. Tall black pillars lined the walls, carved with ancient runes that glowed faintly red, pulsing with restrained power. Heavy curtains blocked out the sky, allowing only thin slashes of dim light to cut through the darkness. Vyrian sat at his obsidian desk, his expression unreadable as his fingers traced symbols on an open scroll. The air around him felt heavy, charged with something dangerous.
The door creaked open. Vyrian did not look up. Soft footsteps approached, slow and deliberate, accompanied by the faint scent of rare demon incense. When the presence finally stopped in front of him, he lifted his eyes slightly.
Queen Dorian stood there. She was breathtaking in a way that demanded attention her hair adorned with gold rings, her eyes glowing faintly amber. She wore a revealing gown of dark silk that clung to her body like liquid shadow, cut low enough to leave little to imagination. She sat gracefully on the edge of the desk, crossing her legs as if she owned the space.
“What do you want, Dorian?” Vyrian asked flatly. His tone was cold. Distant.
Dorian smiled, slow and sultry. “I miss my husband,” she said, leaning forward slightly.
“We haven’t been together for a while. Don’t you think it’s time we had another child?” Her hand brushed the edge of his sleeve.
Vyrian’s jaw tightened. “I’m not ready for this,” he said sharply.
“Get out.” The smile on Dorian’s face faltered but only for a second.
“You can’t keep pushing me away,” she said, her voice dropping.
“We are married. I am your queen.” Silence followed. Vyrian stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. He didn’t look at her again as he strode past, his cloak swirling behind him like a living thing.
The air shimmered. In the next heartbeat, he vanished.
Dorian sat there alone, her fingers curling slowly into her palm, her eyes darkening with restrained fury.
Vyrian reappeared in a different chamber. Azania’s room. It was smaller than the king’s chambers but far warmer. Soft candlelight filled the space, reflecting off sheer curtains that fluttered gently as if moved by an unseen breeze. The room smelled faintly of herbs and rain.
Azania stood near the bed, tying the belt of her robe. Her damp hair fell loosely down her back, water droplets sliding slowly down her skin. Though her eyes were clouded with blindness, her posture was calm, alert. She didn’t turn.
“What do you want?” she said calmly. “I’m not going to tell you anything.” Vyrian froze. For a long moment, he simply stared at her. Eighteen years had passed, yet she looked unchanged timeless, hauntingly beautiful. Blind or not, it was always as if she saw more than anyone else in the palace.
He stepped closer. Azania sensed him immediately.
“I told you,” she said coldly. “I won’t speak.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the distance between them in a few strides and lifted her effortlessly off the floor.
Azania gasped softly not in fear, but in irritation as he carried her to the bed and laid her down before lying beside her, pulling her tightly into his arms.
She stiffened. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your queen?” she muttered bitterly.
Vyrian tightened his grip. “Shut up,” he said harshly. He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling deeply as if grounding himself. His hold was possessive, desperate almost angry. Azania did not return the embrace.
“My son,” she said quietly after a moment. “How is he?” Vyrian went still. A cruel smile curved his lips.
“I won’t tell you anything,” he said slowly. “And I won’t let you see him until you give me what I want.”
Azania’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her breathing remained steady but inside, something shattered.
“You already took everything from me,” she whispered. “My freedom. My power. My child.” Vyrian lifted his head, his eyes burning. “And yet,” he murmured, “you still refuse me to tell me what I need to know.”
Silence filled the room. Azania turned her face away, her jaw clenched, tears threatening but never falling. She would not give him the satisfaction.
He studied her profile for a long moment, anger and obsession battling inside him. Then he stood abruptly, releasing her as if she were nothing.
“You will break,” he said coldly. “You always do.”
He vanished again, leaving the room heavy and still. Azania lay there, unmoving, her fists still clenched tightly in the fabric of her robe.
“I won’t,” she whispered into the empty room. And for the first time in years… her voice trembled.
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Midnight had come and gone, yet sleep refused to claim Elara. She lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open, heart heavy and restless. Every time she closed her eyes, the same thought slammed back into her mind like a cruel reminder. The necklace. Her fingers moved instinctively to her chest again empty. Still gone.
She sat up slowly, pushing the covers aside. She had retraced her steps at least five times already. The library, the hallways, the dining hall, the courtyard, even the fountain area where she and Seraphina had laughed earlier. She had searched everywhere until her feet hurt and her chest ached with panic. Nothing. The necklace wasn’t just jewelry. It was the only thing her father had given her that belonged to her mother. The one thing she had promised herself she would never lose.
She pressed her palms to her face, breathing in shakily. Then it hit her. There was one place she hadn’t checked. Her heart dropped straight into her stomach. The forbidden garden. The memory returned vividly running blindly, tripping, falling hard to the ground while fear consumed her. If the chain had snapped then… if it had slipped beneath the grass or stones… That had to be it.
Elara glanced toward the door. It was late. The academy was silent. Surely… surely he would be asleep by now. Princes had chambers. Guards. Duties. He wouldn’t be wandering the garden at this hour. No one would know. She slipped out of bed and pulled on her shoes, her movements slow and careful. Quiet. She grabbed her small bag, then hesitated before shoving her hand inside and curling her fingers around the familiar canister. Pepper spray. Her father had insisted she always carry it.
Her heart pounded as she crept out of the room. The corridors were dark, torches dimmed low, shadows stretching unnaturally long along the stone walls. The moonlight spilling through tall windows was the only thing guiding her steps. Each sound felt too loud. Her own breathing sounded like thunder in her ears. She followed the path she remembered, down the stone steps, past the archway and then she was there. The forbidden garden.
The moment she crossed its threshold, the air changed. The cool night breeze vanished, replaced by a dry, unnatural heat that wrapped around her skin like a warning. The plants here were darker, thicker, their leaves edged with red and black. The ground beneath her feet felt warm, almost alive. She swallowed hard.
“Just be quick,” she whispered to herself.
She crouched down, eyes scanning the grass and stone path. Her hands trembled as she brushed aside leaves, checked beneath twisted roots, searched the place where she had fallen. Nothing. Her breathing grew faster.
“It has to be here,” she murmured, panic creeping in. She moved deeper into the garden, heart racing, fear clawing at her chest. Shadows danced between the trees, stretching and shifting as if watching her. Still, she forced herself to keep looking.
Then—
“Looking for this?” The voice came from above her. Elara froze. Every muscle in her body locked as terror surged through her veins. Slowly, painfully slowly, she lifted her head. He stood there. Prince Varian. Tall. Still. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dark, reflecting the moonlight like cold fire. His dark hair fell loosely around his sharp features, and his expression was completely empty no anger, no curiosity. Just something far worse. Amusement.
Between his fingers dangled her necklace. The chain glinted faintly as it swayed, the pendant unmistakable. Her breath caught painfully in her throat.
“T-that’s mine,” she whispered. Her hand shot into her bag and she pulled out the pepper spray, holding it up with shaking fingers.
“Don’t,” she said, backing away. “Don’t come closer.” Varian tilted his head slightly, as if studying a strange creature.
“What is that?” he asked calmly. She didn’t answer. Her hand trembled so badly she wasn’t sure she could even press the nozzle.
“Give it back,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Please.”
He took one step forward. The heat in the garden intensified instantly, the air shimmering around him.
“Stop,” she cried, tears blurring her vision.
“I said don’t come closer!” Varian chuckled darkly, cruelly.
“You came into my garden,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “At night. Alone.” Another step. “You don’t get to give orders here.”
Fear surged through her like a tidal wave. Without thinking, Elara pressed down on the spray. A sharp hiss filled the air as the mist shot straight toward his face. Varian didn’t even flinch. The spray evaporated mid-air burned away by invisible heat before it could touch him. Elara’s eyes widened in horror. He was suddenly in front of her. Too fast. She stumbled back, tripping over a root and falling hard onto the ground. Pain shot through her palms as she scrambled backward, her breath coming out in panicked sobs.
“Pathetic,” Varian muttered. He crouched down in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“This little thing means so much to you?” he asked, holding the necklace just inches from her face. She nodded frantically, tears spilling freely now.
“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s all I have.”
For a long moment, he simply stared at her. Then his fingers tightened around the chain. And Elara’s heart shattered.