IVY
Hovering around the edge of the cave, my lips remain pressed in a thin line as I absorb everything happening around me.
I only spent a few lessons in the beginner area, trying to interact with the heat, the flame, the lava, anything at all, just hoping it would produce something. Now here I am, my magic ignited, and I feel even more helpless than I did before.
It doesn't help that I feel completely suffocated by the whispers that continue to gain traction around me. I’m wound tight and ready to explode at any given moment.
I can't decide what I hate more, the whispers of truth or the whispers of lies.
Was I naked when I was taken from Teddy's room?Yes.
Was I naked and strapped to a chair as my father loomed above me?Yes.
Was I naked as he pressed the barrel of his gun against my skull and pulled the trigger?Yes.
Was I touched inappropriately?No.
Well, not in the way they're talking about.
Was I strung up and made a mockery of?Also no.
Was I a highly strung whore disguised as the Angel of Heaven’s Ridge?Definitely not.
Yet everything is said with such truth and confidence among them that even I’m questioning what's real and what's not. It takes everything inside of me to remain focused on the present, remembering exactly why I'm here in this lesson to begin with.
It's not to heed somebody else's command. Although, Archer's bleeding cheek continues to panic me. Healing him, or attempting to, is completely out of the question. I refuse to become a puppet on their string. It’s infuriating as hell, but there’s something about it that eases the tension in my chest, and the last words he whispered to me only make me soften toward him.
I don’t like it.
Instead of focusing on him, I’ve watched, lingered, and assessed those around me, taking note of their every move. I don't really understand what everybody can do, but one fact is clear: interaction with fire as a Fire Protector is natural. And if it's natural for all of them, then surely I should be blessed with the same ability.
In theory, anyway. It all makes sense, yet every time I try to discreetly copy how people stand, embracing the heat, touching the rockery, nothing comes.
Frustration clouds my vision as my gaze snaps to Archer’s, only to find him already looking at me. I turn away quickly, refusing to fall victim to those puppy dog eyes that scream for me to help him, to want him, to need him.
As if sensing my desperation to break out of this room, Professor Carbon claps her hands, calling time on the class.
“Thank you, students. Please continue to focus, and I'll see you all next time.”
Relief floods me as I move to leave, along with everybody else. As I make my way toward the door, I almost trip over myown feet because I’m in such a hurry, but Archer manages to sidle up beside me, falling into step with ease, just before my name rings out through the air again.
This time, it’s not from Francesca, but from Carbon.
I pause, glancing over my shoulder, noting how other students don't seem as hasty to leave now that I stand at the center of attention once more.
Carbon laces her fingers together, staring at me expectantly.
“I think it is crucial you stay. We need to find your connection to the flame.”
I shake my head as Archer takes an instinctive half step to move in front of me protectively.
Clearing my throat, I curl my hair behind my ear. “I don't understand.”
“You've said that already,” Francesca snaps, the environment growing even more hostile than before, which I didn't believe was possible. “I’ll stay with her, Carbon,” she sings, her smile eerie, and my stomach clenches.
“Like fuck you will,” Archer snarls. “I’m her mate. I'll stay,” he declares, but Carbon shakes her head, frustration getting the better of her.
“Neither of you will. You both need to sort your shit out,” she barks, glaring between the two of them. “The Academy and the Fifth Kingdom expect more of you. You need to remain focused,” she commands, the atmosphere thick with words unspoken, but the weight of them is true.
