CHAPTER TWO
The ceremony felt like it would never end.
One by one, students climbed the dais and pressed trembling palms to the Celestial Orb.
Each time, the gods' light flared, spilling through their veins like glass set aflame.
Shadow, water, wind, stone, or flame burst into the air before the Orb seared its verdict into the back of their necks. Sealed. Signed. Bound.
I clapped when my friends were called, pride tangled up with the sick twist in my gut.
With every name, my pulse hammered harder. Any moment now, it would be mine.
"You're going to pass out soon," Aether drawled from above, far too amused.
I opened my mouth to snap back when the next name cut through the hall, sharp and metallic.
"Asher Maddox of Umbra."
Umbra. The Shadow Kingdom. Even the name sent something cold skittering up my spine.
A bench scraped. My head whipped around, and my eyes landed on a male.
Tousled black hair caught the light, curls falling into his eyes—silver eyes—that gleamed like starlight on water.
A jaw shadowed with stubble. Shadows curled along his skin like a whisper of whatever lived in him. He looked dangerous, someone who could punish you and make you beg for it.
His gaze found mine and did not let go.
Not a glance. An unblinking lock, as if I were the only person in a hall full of people.
"Gods, I'd lick that," Ember muttered, sparks dancing between her fingers.
"Ember," I hissed, smacking her arm, but my voice came out thin and shaky.
It hit like stepping into a storm—sudden, electric, and all-consuming. His eyes flashed so brightly they felt like deep pools you could drown in if you stared too long.
His jaw was set hard, carved sharp as if Veyros had shaped him from night and steel and dropped him here to punish us.
"That's Asher," Ryven said, leaning forward with a grin. "First team Riftball. Meanest bastard on the field. Great guy, though."
Yeah, great guy. Seems so.
The hall had gone quiet.
Every gaze snagged on his movement; each step seemed to swallow the space around him, shadows coiling at his boots like things eager to obey.
As he passed our table, he turned his head. His eyes locked with mine, and he smirked.
He fucking smirked. I sat useless, staring as if he had stolen every coherent thought I'd ever had.
"Shadow wielders," Aether grumbled from above. "Always chaos."
I snapped my gaze away so fast my neck popped.
When I dared a side-eye, everyone at our table was staring, cheeks bulging with food, grins smeared in gravy, like hyenas who'd just caught me blushing.
"I swear to the gods," I muttered, fingers twitching as heat flared inside my chest, "I'll set the lot of you on fire."
He moved on, every step measured, every line of him shouting danger and control.
It was as if the shadows themselves bent toward him, eager to be claimed.
Then Ember leaned in, a wicked grin in place. "Look at that delicious ass."
Gods. He definitely heard that.
I glared so hard she just laughed and threw up her hands in mock surrender.
I wanted to melt into the floor or have Ignis strike me down right then and save me the humiliation.
A sudden tug at my ankle made me jolt.
I glanced down and froze as a thin shadow coiled around my boot like a lover's hand.
It slithered across my leathers, slow and deliberate, caressing the material before retreating to its master. My jaw nearly hit the floor.
"I bet Jeremy can't do that," Ember murmured.
Gods, I went scarlet from head to toe.
"Someone wants to play with fire," Aether muttered through the bond.
Up on the dais, Asher reached the Orb. Headmaster Silas gave a solemn nod, and Asher lifted his hand.
His jaw was stone, his silver eyes shuttered as he pressed his palm to the glowing sphere.
The entire Orb went black. Gasps tore through the hall like cracks in ice. Shadows boiled upward, swallowing the golden light until only darkness pulsed at its heart.
My eyes widened.
He stood utterly still, jaw tight, lashes low as his power poured outward in a storm of living shadow.
The tendrils writhed around him—eager, hungry—and then, like smoke drawn into a flame, they funneled back into his body.
A hiss escaped him as the Orb burned its verdict into the back of his neck.
The black-and-violet mark of Umbra blazed against his skin. Then his eyes snapped open.
And found mine. Gods, my pulse thundered—too fast, too loud—until it felt like my heart might beat itself out of my chest.
"Calm yourself," Aether commanded.
"House Umbra welcomes you, Asher Maddox," Headmaster Silas declared.
The hall roared, but I was barely functioning.
My gaze was trapped, helpless, following every step Asher took as he descended from the dais.
As he passed our table, his mouth curved into a wicked grin and then he winked.
Gods. He actually winked.
Heat surged through me, wild and traitorous, and I nearly exploded right there.
I tore my gaze away so fast my braid slapped my shoulder, but not before Ember caught the look on my face.
She was already grinning like a smug cat that had just knocked something expensive off a shelf. I was hot, bothered, and had no idea what the fuck was happening to me.
Against my better judgment, I glanced back. Jeremy's perfect green eyes were locked on Asher, sharp as blades, each flicker a silent declaration of war.
I turned forward again, pulse pounding, palms damp, still fighting the pull of that silver gaze I refused to meet.
Maddison leaned over from across the table, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just so you know," she whispered, "he's still staring at you."
I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to look, refusing to give in. I couldn't. If I did, I'd drown all over again.
Then Headmaster Silas's voice boomed through the chamber, rattling the chandeliers.
"Ava Pyreson.”
Fuck.
Of course I was last.
The Princess of Zymarra. The heir to the entire godsdamn continent. What a privilege.
My skin burned as our bench screeched against the stone, the sound ripping through the sudden hush of the Grand Hall.
A thousand voices erupted into cheers and whistles that made the walls shudder.
I rose, my legs stiff and my heart hammering against my ribs. Ember smacked my ass like I was her prize fighter.
I shot her a look that could kill; she only grinned wider.
"Let's go, Pyreson!" Ryven bellowed, his voice echoing like a war cry.
Veyros, take me now.
"Breathe, little flame."
I shut my eyes and drew a slow breath through my nose, trying to steady the chaos pounding in my chest.
Every gaze in the chamber pressed down on me, hot and suffocating. When I finally opened them, I lifted my chin, let my boots carry me forward, and walked toward the dais.
Headmaster Silas stood there, smiling at me—proud, expectant—while the Celestial Orb pulsed beside him like a living star.
I forced my lips into something resembling a smile, though inside I was unraveling.
At the foot of the dais, I risked a glance back. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on me.
"Ava Pyreson," Silas proclaimed, his voice ringing through the coliseum of stone and fire. "Zymarra's Flame, we welcome you to the Academy. And we take a moment of silence for our eldest Flame. May Nox keep his soul."
Jax.
The name sliced through me like a blade. My heart stuttered. My chest tightened with a swell of anxiety, every breath becoming too shallow, too sharp.
"Do not have a panic attack," Aether seethed. I could practically feel his golden eyes burning through me from the upper ring.
I forced my brightest, fakest smile, turned to the crowd, and lifted my hand in a regal wave.
The roar that followed rattled the stone arches overhead.
They devoured it—every cheer, every chant, every ounce of performance I fed them.
Politics.
I turned back to the Orb, and the hall fell silent. My hand trembled as I pressed my palm to its blazing surface.
Power slammed into me like a tidal wave.
Light exploded outward—first orange, then molten yellow, searing so brightly it flooded the chamber and drew gasps from every throat.
My magic surged up from my core, wild and unruly like it always was. Chaotic. Temperamental.
The kind of power that never quite did what it was told. I braced myself, silently praying to every god listening that it would behave this time.
For once… it did.
The blaze settled instead of spiraling out of control, snapping back from blinding gold to orange before hardening into a fierce, unrelenting red.
Flames licked up my arms, scorching heat racing over my skin as the mark burned into the back of my neck.
I clenched my teeth against the pain, refusing to make a sound.
Then the fire vanished. And the real pain hit.
It seared through my abdomen, sudden and vicious, like something inside me had twisted a blade and set it on fire.
My stomach cramped violently—the familiar agony of my body fighting itself.
But no one could see it. I forced a smile, shoulders straight, my nails digging into my palms as I ground my teeth together and held the pain inside my ribs.
Princesses didn't double over in front of a room full of nobles. Even when their insides felt like they were burning alive.
And then it was over.
"Ava Pyreson," Headmaster Silas thundered, "House Ignis. May you rise through Ignis' fire."
The hall erupted again. Still humming with power, dizzy—and with a sharp knot of pain twisting low in my stomach—I pulled my hand from the Orb and stepped back. My traitorous gaze slid sideways.
He was still watching me.
I tore my gaze away and hurried back to our bench, praying to every god I wouldn't trip and make a bigger fool of myself.
My legs barely remembered how to move, and my stomach churned angrily with every step, but I managed to slide into my seat at the end of the row.
Ember hooked an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into her side. "Gods, Ava," she breathed, her grin bright. "I mean, I've seen your power before, but that was—"
"Breathtaking," Maddy finished for her, blue eyes glistening. Ryven gave an approving nod.
"Guys, stop," I muttered, my cheeks blazing until I was sure I looked more flame than flesh.