Chapter 13

Between Fire and Frost

By the time I made it to Spell Theory, my body had started to stiffen from the morning's trials. My muscles ached with every step, but it wasn’t just the physical strain, it was the fire. It had rooted deeper, woven itself through my magic like thread pulled too tight. I could feel it pulsing beneath my skin, even when I tried to quiet it.

Professor Idrien was already mid-lecture when I slipped into my usual seat near the back. He barely spared me a glance, though his eyes lingered on my hands as I pulled out my notebook. The silver markings had faded slightly but still shimmered faintly in the right light.

Naomi leaned over and whispered, “You missed roll call.”

“You marked me in, right?”

She smirked. “Obviously. I even answered a question in your voice. You’re welcome.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

I tried to focus on the lecture, something about interwoven spell matrices and binding loops, but my mind kept drifting. My notes turned into half-doodles, half-runic patterns that I didn’t remember drawing.

My hands felt warm again.

Not good.

The fire was stirring.

Calm. Focus. Contain.

Professor Idrien walked past my desk, and I snapped my notebook closed.

He paused.

“Bennett,” he said, sharp as flint. “Can you tell me the stabilizing component in a fourfold elemental binding?”

I swallowed. “Elder iron. Unless the caster is using fire-threaded spells. Then it requires moonroot binding to prevent feedback.”

He nodded slowly. “Correct.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding. Naomi nudged my elbow with a grin.

But behind me, someone muttered, “Show-off.”

The heat flared again.

I turned slightly, catching the sneer on Sienna Everwell’s face. Of course.

Daughter of one of the old bloodlines. Always dressed like she was on the cover of a spellcrafting magazine. And always, always watching me.

“Something to say?” I asked, voice low.

She arched a perfect brow. “Just admiring how quickly some of us climb. Makes you wonder how.”

“Maybe stop wondering and start studying,” Naomi said sharply.

Sienna's smile didn't reach her eyes. “I suppose it helps to have... advantages. Whatever kind you have.”

I felt the flame in my chest recoil like a snake.

Not yet. Not here.

Professor Idrien returned to the front, unaware or simply ignoring the tension.

I clenched my fists. Focused on the burn. Contained it.

Just.

Barely.

Between classes, I barely had time to breathe. My legs still ached from the fire wall run, and my shoulders burned each time I carried my books from one lecture to the next. Every hallway felt too full, every spell too loud, like my senses were permanently stretched thin.

I didn’t tell anyone about the way light flickered around my fingertips when I touched anything magical.

Or the way enchanted doors opened for me a second too early.

Even the wards around campus pulsed faintly when I passed.

Naomi noticed, of course.

She pulled me aside between Conjurations and Magical Ethics, her brow furrowed.

“You’re buzzing. Like, literally. Are you okay?”

I leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know. The fire doesn’t sleep. I don’t think it wants to.”

She hesitated, then took my wrist gently. The veins beneath my skin glowed for a heartbeat, silver light threading like rivers.

“It’s getting stronger,” she whispered. “You are.”

I closed my eyes. “But at what cost?”

Magical Ethics was worse.

Professor Vellin decided it was a debate day. Of course it was.

We were split into groups to argue the morality of concealing magical potential from a governing council. Naomi and I were paired with two first-years who barely spoke. Across the room, Sienna smirked as she aligned with three high-ranking legacies.

“Some powers are dangerous,” she said, her voice syrupy and bright. “When someone hides their true nature, it puts everyone at risk. Transparency ensures balance. Control.”

I stood slowly.

“Or it ensures surveillance,” I said. “Fear isn’t the same as safety. If someone learns they’re different, they deserve a chance to understand themselves without a target on their back.”

Sienna tilted her head. “So you think secrets are harmless?”

“I think forced exposure is violence dressed as caution.”

The professor raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained.

The room buzzed.

Naomi grinned. “Remind me to never debate you.”

I sat back down, my pulse still racing. The fire inside me stirred again, not in panic, but in agreement.

The class ended with no clear winner.

But the looks I received afterward weren’t the same.

Some curious. Some wary.

Some afraid.

That night, I returned to my dorm exhausted, head spinning.

My routine had changed completely. Every morning I trained with Maris. Every day I walked through classes like I was balancing on a wire no one else could see. Every night I studied with trembling hands, wondering what new test tomorrow would bring.

And through it all, the fire never left.

Not once.

It waited.

It listened.

And I wondered if the deeper I went, the harder it would be to come back.