Elya awoke with a feeling so radiant and unfamiliar that, for a fleeting moment, she thought she must still be dreaming. A deep, intoxicating warmth coursed through her body, spreading from just below her stomach, through her chest, and out to the very tips of her fingers. She had kissed Lina. Lina had kissed her back. And the world had changed.

  The memory crashed into her, vivid and electrifying. The way Lina had looked at her, like she was something special, something wanted, it sent another thrill racing through her veins. Her fingers traced over her lips, still tingling with the phantom sensation of the kiss. She giggled, an actual giggle, muffling it behind her hands as she flopped back against the pillows, grinning like a fool. It felt impossible, like something out of the stories she used to read, the ones she had long since convinced herself weren’t meant for people like her. And yet, it had happened.

  Her whole body hummed with restless energy, as if every part of her had awakened to something new. She stretched, reveling in the sensation, and found that even the cold morning air couldn’t dampen her warmth. There was no looming dread, no gnawing fear of what the day might bring, just pure, unfiltered joy. For the first time since arriving at the tower, she wasn’t fighting to survive. She was living.

  She turned onto her side, hugging her pillow close, unwilling to let the feeling slip away just yet. Every hardship, every lonely night, every time she had felt like she wasn’t enough, it all felt distant now, like something belonging to another life. She had kissed Lina. And Lina had kissed her back.

  She stretched lazily beneath the blankets, a giddy smile pulling at her lips as she replayed the moment in her mind. The memory of Lina’s lips against hers, the way her hands had cupped Elya’s face with such certainty, such hunger, it sent a shiver of delight through her. It was wonderful, and amazing, and everything she had never dared to imagine before. Nothing else mattered. Not her training, not her struggles, not even Aldric’s cold disapproval. In this moment, in this warmth, she was weightless.

  Sliding out of bed, she let out a contented sigh, feeling lighter than she had in years. Her body still hummed with the afterglow of last night, a warmth that pulsed through her, filling every inch of her with something heady and exhilarating. She ran her fingers absently over her lips, still able to feel Lina’s kiss like an imprint on her skin. The thought alone made her shiver, a giddy sensation climbing up her spine.

  She lingered as she bathed, the warm water cascading over her shoulders, but her mind was far away. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to replay every moment, Lina’s hands cupping her face, the softness of her lips, the way she had pressed closer, hesitant at first, then hungry. It sent another thrill coursing through her, leaving her breathless in the stillness of her room. Even as she toweled off, she moved slower than usual, savoring this morning, letting herself indulge in the happiness she had so rarely felt.

  Dressing became another act of blissful distraction. She caught herself smiling at nothing, her fingers trailing along the hem of her tunic as if her whole body felt new, awakened. The air seemed fresher, the light through her window brighter, as if the entire world had shifted in the wake of Lina’s touch. Her hands trembled slightly as she fastened the clasps of her robes, not from nerves, but from the sheer, overwhelming joy bubbling inside her. She had never felt this kind of warmth before, not even with her layered magic. It was different. More real. More consuming.

  As she dressed, she found herself humming under her breath, an uncharacteristic spring in her step as she moved about the room. For once, she wasn’t worrying about what came next, about proving herself or what she had to do to survive another day. She was simply happy.

  But elsewhere, in the shadows of the tower, someone else was already moving against her.

  Callen had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Watching Elya succeed when she should have failed, watching Lina stand by her side, it had been too much. He had spent too long watching her scrape by, watching her steal the attention, the opportunities that should have belonged to those who actually deserved them.

  Watching her take Lina. Seeing that undeserving wretch, that pathetic excuse for a mage, kissing Lina, had been the final straw. It was a mockery, an insult that boiled in his blood, twisting his stomach into knots of rage and resentment. She had no right. Elya had no right to anything, let alone Lina.

  Under the cover of darkness, he moved through the empty halls of the tower, his breath controlled, his steps light. He had spent weeks watching, listening, planning. He had imagined this moment a hundred times, the moment he finally put an end to her illusions of belonging. Now, he had everything he needed. Slipping into Master Aldric’s private study, he carefully lifted the latch, his fingers steady despite the rush of anticipation that burned in his veins, setting his nerves alight with purpose.

  The room was dim, the air thick with the scent of parchment and candlewax, the weight of knowledge and authority pressing down on him. Callen paused for the briefest moment, listening to the silence, his breath steady despite the thundering of his heart. He knew what he was looking for, had mapped out the shelves and cabinets in his mind long before stepping foot inside. His fingers ghosted over the tomes stacked neatly along the wooden desk, his lips twisting at the audacity of Elya ever believing she belonged here.

  His hands moved quickly, efficiently, his grip steady as he reached for the rare arcane ink, the enchanted parchment, and finally, the small vial of charged mana crystals, items only meant for senior apprentices, carefully rationed, strictly restricted. He smirked. These were the tools of true talent, of mages who actually earned their place, not impostors who stumbled their way through spellwork they had no right wielding. Elya’s downfall would be her own overestimation, her foolish belief that she was untouchable. And Callen would be the one to remind her otherwise.

  With the stolen items concealed beneath his cloak, he made his way back through the halls, silent as a shadow. Every step carried a sense of inevitability, a bitter satisfaction curling in his gut. He had waited long enough, endured the sight of Elya’s undeserved victories, and now he would strip them away, piece by piece.

  Slipping into her room with practiced ease, he scanned the dim space, his lip curling at its simplicity, at the way it mocked the grandeur she pretended to be a part of. His fingers curled around the edge of her trunk, his grip tightening with each thought of her smug, ignorant face. He worked quickly, lifting the false bottom and carefully placing the stolen materials inside. He took his time positioning them, just right, making sure they looked deliberately hidden, as if she had tucked them away in secret, knowing exactly what she was doing.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  His pulse pounded as he stepped back, studying his work. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face as he envisioned the moment her world collapsed. This time, she wouldn’t escape. This time, Elya would finally be exposed, and he would be there to watch her fall.

  A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face as he stepped back, his breath quickening, his entire body thrumming with an elation so intense it bordered on euphoric. The thought of Elya's disgrace, of her pitiful face contorted with shock and helplessness when they dragged her in front of the masters, sent a pulse of pleasure through him, an almost electric thrill. His fingers twitched at his sides, his chest rising and falling with ragged anticipation.

  This was it. The moment he had craved, hungered for, more than anything else. The sweet, intoxicating satisfaction of knowing that soon, she would be nothing—stripped of her illusions, crushed beneath the weight of her own downfall. It was justice. It was balance restored.

  This time, she wouldn’t escape. This time, Elya would finally be exposed for the fraud she was.

  Chapter 24.25

  Elya had barely finished fastening the last clasp of her robe when the call echoed through the corridors. The summons was clear, unmistakable. Every apprentice was to gather in the grand chamber immediately.

  A ripple of unease spread through the halls as she stepped out of her room, her earlier joy slowly being replaced by a creeping tension. She could feel it in the hurried movements of those around her, the nervous glances exchanged between apprentices. Something was wrong.

  The grand chamber was already filled when she arrived, the weight of so many eyes pressing down on her as she slipped into the crowd. At the center of the room stood Master Aldric, his expression carved from ice, his presence dominating the space with an almost oppressive force. In his hands, displayed for all to see, were the stolen artifacts, glowing faintly under the enchantment he had woven around them, a spell of containment that made them hover inches above his palms, crackling softly with restrained energy. The air around him felt charged, humming with the weight of expectation and unspoken judgment. A faint distortion rippled outward from where he stood, the remnants of a warding spell reinforcing the gravity of the moment, ensuring that no lie could pass unnoticed.

  Elya’s stomach twisted into a knot, a sickening, clawing sensation that curled through her insides like a parasite. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the murmurs around her, the world shrinking down to the suffocating weight of unseen judgment pressing against her chest. Something inside her screamed to run, to flee before the words even left Aldric’s lips, but her body refused to move, frozen in a state of suspended dread. Her limbs felt like lead, her breath shallow and uneven, as if the very air had thickened, denying her even the ability to defend herself. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after last night. And yet, as her vision blurred around the edges, the cruel certainty of it all sank into her bones.

  Aldric’s gaze found her, sharp as a blade, and in that instant, the weight of the entire room crashed down upon her. The air grew heavier, thick with magical tension, as the faint shimmer of his containment spell pulsed like a heartbeat in the silence. A wave of invisible force rippled outward from him, pressing against the assembled apprentices, a reminder of his authority, his power.

  The temperature seemed to drop, or maybe it was just the icy dread curling through Elya’s veins as Aldric’s voice rang through the chamber, cold, unrelenting, and laced with barely contained fury.

  "Explain yourself."

  Elya’s throat went dry. "I, I don’t understand."

  A murmur rippled through the apprentices. Then, stepping forward from the shadows, Callen emerged, a viper slithering into the light, his expression grim, carefully composed, a masterful performance. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, the mask of concern he wore almost convincing. To them, he was the noble observer, the reluctant truth-bearer, but Elya could feel the venom hidden beneath his words before he even spoke.

  "Master Aldric," he said, his voice steady, "last night, I saw Elya sneaking through the halls. I didn’t think much of it at the time… but now?"

  The reaction was immediate. The murmurs swelled, a wave of hushed voices rising and falling like a tide of condemnation. Some apprentices whispered behind cupped hands, while others let their judgments slip through sneering smirks and sidelong glances.

  "Of course it’s her," someone muttered. "The bottom-feeder finally got caught."

  "No talent, no skill. She was bound to try something desperate."

  "Pathetic," another voice sneered. "Can’t even cheat properly."

  She was the weakest. The failure. The outcast. The one who should have been gone long ago. Who else would be desperate enough to cheat??

  Elya shook her head, her voice breaking, raw with desperation. "I didn’t do this. I swear, I didn’t!"

  But her plea fell into the abyss of silence, swallowed by the stony stares of her peers. Panic twisted inside her like a vice, gripping her lungs, stealing her breath. She turned, searching the crowd, pleading with wide, frantic eyes. Jalen would stand up for her. He had to. But he wasn’t there. He was nowhere to be seen.

  A wave of dread crashed over her, cold and suffocating. The room blurred at the edges as her heart pounded against her ribs. She wasn’t just accused—she was alone. The realization hit her like a physical blow, knocking the wind from her chest. Betrayal crept into her thoughts, curling its fingers around her throat, and she felt herself begin to tremble.

  Her chest tightened, constricting like an iron band, as she looked to the other apprentices. Their gazes darted away from hers, some laced with discomfort, others with certainty, as though her guilt had already been written into the stone walls around them. There was no defense, no hesitation, only the inevitability of their judgment sinking into place like a closing trap.

  Then she turned to Lina.

  Lina, her last hope. The only one left who could save her from the weight of the condemning stares, from the suffocating certainty that was crushing her from all sides. She clung to the desperate hope that Lina would see past the lies, past the whispers, and speak up. That she would step forward and pull her from this nightmare.

  For a second, she saw hesitation, just a flicker, just long enough for Elya to cling to, but then it was gone. Lina lowered her gaze, her expression unreadable.

  Callen’s eyes flickered toward her, knowing. He knew. If Lina defended Elya, it would raise too many questions, questions about why she was protecting her, about what they shared, about what she had to lose.

  Lina said nothing.

  The silence shattered something inside of Elya.

  Then, the doors burst open.

  "This is bullshit!" Jalen’s voice rang through the chamber, raw and furious.

  He pushed through the gathered apprentices, his face set in defiance, his fists clenched at his sides. "Elya wouldn’t do this! Everyone knows that!" His voice rang through the chamber, raw and filled with desperate conviction.

  The apprentices stirred at his outburst, some exchanging uncertain glances, others rolling their eyes, already resigned to the supposed truth. But Aldric did not flinch. The magical energy humming around him intensified, the air becoming thick with the weight of his authority. His expression was carved from stone, his judgment already sealed.

  Elya felt her stomach drop, a cold numbness creeping through her limbs. It was too late. It had been too late the moment Callen spoke.

  She turned her gaze to Jalen, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. He was fighting for her, but it didn’t matter. The moment had passed, the verdict already delivered in the unyielding set of Aldric’s jaw.

  And in that moment, as the chamber seemed to close in around her, Elya knew, there was nothing she could do to stop what was coming.