The silence in the grand chamber was absolute. The weight of Aldric’s presence bore down upon the room, pressing into every apprentice’s chest like an invisible force. The very air crackled with residual energy, charged by the powerful wards woven into the walls of the chamber, responding to his restrained fury. Shadows flickered unnaturally against the stone, stretching longer as though recoiling from his wrath. He did not hesitate.

  His cold, piercing gaze locked onto Elya, a quiet storm raging behind his eyes. The stolen artifacts still hovered before him, contained in the shimmering remnants of his warding spell. He did not need further proof. The verdict had been decided long before she had even opened her mouth to defend herself.

  "I should have cast you out long ago," Aldric said, his voice sharp as a blade, slicing through the heavy silence like an executioner’s axe. "You were never meant to wield magic. It taints under your touch, wilts in your grasp like a flower denied the sun. Every moment you have spent here has been a disgrace to the craft, a waste of resources better spent on those who truly deserve them."

  Elya’s breath caught in her throat, her vision blurring as hot tears welled in her eyes. "Master Aldric, please…" Her voice wavered, cracking under the weight of desperation, her hands trembling at her sides. She had never felt so powerless, so utterly stripped of hope, as she did in this moment. The words clung to her tongue, thick with grief, but she forced them out anyway, knowing even as she spoke that they would fall on deaf ears.

  "Enough." His voice cracked like thunder, cutting through her desperate plea. "You are stripped of your apprenticeship. I would say you are forbidden from practicing magic, but your own body will prevent you from doing that."

  His gaze flicked to the senior apprentices standing at attention along the chamber’s perimeter. He gestured sharply. "Strip her bare. Not one stitch of clothing is to remain."

  A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of shock and cruel anticipation. Some apprentices whispered behind cupped hands, their eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity, while others merely watched, their faces twisted in barely concealed satisfaction. The senior apprentices hesitated for only a moment, exchanging quick glances, but there was no true resistance, only the performance of reluctance, the final act of severing her from everything she had once clung to. Then, like vultures descending upon a carcass, they stepped forward, their expressions unreadable, their hands moving to obey with chilling precision.

  "Burn all her books and her mage robes," Aldric continued, his tone as cold and impassive as ever. "She will leave this tower with nothing."

  Elya gasped, stepping back instinctively, her entire body shaking with the magnitude of what was happening. Her eyes darted frantically toward the gathered apprentices, searching for someone, anyone, to object, to stand by her side.

  Jalen was still standing near the front, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, his eyes burning with defiance, but he was alone in his outrage. No one else moved. No one else spoke.

  The weight of betrayal crushed her, sinking into her chest like an iron dagger. She turned to familiar faces, desperate, pleading. Faces she had once called friends turned away, their gazes lowered, their hands tightening into nervous fists. Even those who had once whispered reassurances in the past now remained silent. The judgment had been made, and they had accepted it without question.

  Her vision blurred with tears as she turned to Lina. Lina, her last hope. Lina, who had kissed her. Lina, who had promised...

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  Lina, whose face was frozen in quiet horror, yet whose lips remained sealed. Her hands twitched at her sides, indecision written across every muscle in her body, but she didn’t step forward. She didn’t speak.

  Elya’s breath hitched as the final thread holding her together snapped. She thought Lina would defend her. She thought Jalen would be enough to turn the tide. She thought these people, her classmates, her friends, would not let this happen. But they watched. They waited. They let it happen.

  She had never felt so utterly, devastatingly alone.

  Aldric turned his gaze to Lina. "Go to her room and bring all her books here. Anything she owns."

  Lina’s face paled, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, the conflict raging behind her eyes a battle Elya had no hope of winning. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, her knuckles white, but her body remained rooted in place, her silence more damning than any words could have been. Elya wanted to scream at her, to demand an answer, to plead for her to be the Lina she thought she knew, the Lina who had kissed her, who had held her close as if she meant something. But Lina only nodded, a stiff, mechanical motion, as if she were trying to detach herself from the moment, from Elya. As if it would be easier that way.

  "You," Aldric continued, grabbing Callen’s shoulder. "Go with her. Bring everything."

  A smirk curled at the edges of Callen’s lips as he dipped his head in mock obedience. "Of course, Master Aldric."

  Elya barely registered his words, barely registered anything beyond the sickening weight pressing against her chest, suffocating her, pulling her down into something dark and endless. She barely felt the hands upon her as the senior apprentices moved to follow Aldric’s command, stripping away the last remnants of her dignity.

  Aldric didn’t move as Lina and Callen returned, their arms laden with every possession Elya had ever called her own. They dropped them unceremoniously before the assembled apprentices, and without hesitation, Aldric gestured toward the waiting torches.

  "Burn them," he commanded, his voice sharp and unyielding.

  The apprentices obeyed. Elya watched in horror as the fire consumed everything, her robes, her spellbooks, the pages curling and blackening, the knowledge she had painstakingly gathered turning to ash before her eyes. Smoke filled the chamber, acrid and suffocating, mixing with the despair clawing up her throat.

  Her breath came in ragged gasps, her knees threatening to give way beneath her. Her life, her efforts, her dreams, everything was gone. She turned again to Jalen, to Lina, to anyone, but there was no refuge to be found. Lina stood motionless, eyes locked onto the flames but making no move to stop them. Jalen looked ready to lunge forward, but hands held him back, whispers of warning and futility buzzing around him.

  Only when the last ember dimmed did Aldric finally turn his gaze back to her. He reached into the folds of his robe, pulling out a plain pair of pants and a simple tunic, tossing them to the floor at her feet. A rough rope followed, coiling like a viper beside the clothing.

  "Dress," he ordered, unmoved by the broken girl before him. "And then you will leave this tower."

  Elya’s limbs felt heavy as she bent down, the cool fabric feeling foreign against her flushed skin. She tied the rope around her waist with trembling fingers, her entire body shaking, not from the cold, but from something far worse.

  She had nothing. Not even her journal. Not even a shred of proof that she had ever belonged here.

  The weight of her exile settled onto her shoulders, pressing her down with an unbearable heaviness. As she straightened, the room seemed impossibly vast, the stares of the apprentices drilling into her like a thousand invisible daggers. She had never felt so exposed, so utterly insignificant. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms, but there was no pain strong enough to ground her in this moment.

  The final ember of her former life had turned to ash, leaving nothing but the hollow remains of who she once was. The cold air bit at her skin, the coarse fabric of the borrowed clothes chafing against her raw, trembling body. She dared one last look at the faces around her, hoping for something, anything, other than silent condemnation. But there was nothing.

  Not even pity.

  Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body swaying under the crushing reality of it all. They had taken everything. Not just her books, her robes, or her magic—but her dignity, her belief in herself. Her very existence in this tower had been erased, and the worst part was that no one had tried to stop it.

  She was nothing now. A ghost, barely worth remembering.