Chapter 25 #3
A flick of her hand, and an illuminated display materialized above the central spiral, Vallemont’s Crestboard, shimmering in real time, alive with color and motion.
“Though Crestboard rankings are traditionally updated at week’s end,” Kalisandra continued, “tonight we mark a singular occasion. For the first time since the academy’s founding, I present to you the mid-term standings.”
A collective breath rippled through the assembled first-years. These rankings, normally visible only in the great hall, carried a new gravity when spoken aloud before an audience of nobles.
“In tenth place, demonstrating admirable dedication to her studies, Miss Olivette Ashton.”
“Ninth, Mr. Marcus Whitmore. Eighth, Miss Vera Castell.”
The headmistress moved through the names with precise cadence, each met with polite acknowledgment. But when she reached the upper ranks, the air sharpened with focus.
“In fourth place, showing exceptional promise in defensive tactics, Miss Verena Montero.”
“In third place, demonstrating remarkable combat innovation, Mr. Julian Tremaine.”
Julian’s smile was visible even behind the screen, measured, assured. Third was exactly where someone of his stature belonged: high enough to command respect, not so high as to invite suspicion.
“In second place, maintaining excellence across all disciplines despite considerable challenges, Miss Cassara Allencourt.”
Cassara felt her breath catch. There was a beat of stunned silence before the polite applause began, hesitant at first, then building.
“And in first place,” Kalisandra continued, her voice cutting clean through the hall, “for achieving the highest marks in both combat assessment and tactical application, Mr. Gideon Delvinar.”
The response was louder this time, more confident. Gideon’s family name had once carried gravity. Pride, legacy, and power all rolled into one. It was evident it could do so again. Behind the screen, Cassara didn’t have to look to know Julian’s jaw had likely tightened.
Gideon, as always, said nothing.
The screen shimmered again before fading and resetting.
Now came the part that mattered most.
The headmistress spoke again. “Let the reveal begin.”
With that, the hall shifted. Music hummed to life from unseen instruments, low strings and delicate woodwinds, and the curtain separating the first-years from the guests dissolved into light.
“Row one, enter.”
Cassara watched as the first group moved forward, led by Julian.
He stopped just before the threshold, his hand moving to the aether shard at his chest. The crystal flared with pale blue light, and his beast materialized in a cascade of shimmering particles.
The Moonlit Wyvern prowled forward, sleek and obsidian-scaled, wings that shimmered faintly even at rest. A floating screen appeared beside them, displaying the beast's name, class, and rank in elegant script. Attack Class. Rank A.
Julian didn't just walk—he glided, his posture perfect, the tether between him and his beast taut with control. Every movement was calculated, meant to show off. And it worked. Guests leaned forward. One woman fanned herself. His mother beamed.
Behind him, Gideon summoned his own beast with quiet efficiency.
His aether shard pulsed gold, and the Skyreaper Griffin emerged in a blur of light and feathers, fierce and gleaming.
It didn't snarl or preen—it watched, golden eyes slicing the room like blades.
The synergy between them was almost painful in its precision.
No wasted motion. No falter in step. Attack Class. Rank A.
Whispers swept the room. Nobles shifted in their seats. House heads exchanged glances that promised negotiations in the weeks to come.
The line continued. Verena summoned her Ironclad Manticore, Evie and her stoic Pangolar, Talia her ethereal Aether Sprite, and then—
“Cassara Allencourt.”
The crowd had fallen into a hush of anticipation.
She stepped forward, slowly moving towards the center of the stage. She took a deep breath and raised her hand to the aether shard.
“Wait.”
The words rang out, clear and venom-laced, slicing through the room like a thrown blade.
Cassara froze.
The headmistress turned, brow lifting with elegant precision. “Miss de Kere?”
Sonia stepped forward from the cluster of first-years, her expression composed save for the glint of calculation in her eyes.
“I believe there’s been a breach of academy protocol,” she said, loud enough for her voice to carry. “A violation of the taming oath.”
Whispers flared instantly. Across the ballroom, Cassara saw her father straighten in his seat, his eyes meeting hers for the briefest of moments before returning to Sonia.
Headmistress Kalisandra’s voice remained calm. “You are aware of the weight of your accusation, Miss de Kere?”
“I am.” Sonia’s hands folded demurely before her. “I saw Cassara Allencourt making contact with a poacher. She accepted a private offer, an exchange. She replaced her original bonded beast with something else.”
A collective gasp. Somewhere, a glass was set down too hard.
“What? She’s lying,” Cassara said, before she could stop herself.
Kalisandra raised one hand, silencing both girls with the gesture. “Do you have evidence?”
Sonia didn’t falter. “I have my word, and if that’s not enough, I suggest you examine the beast she presents. If she swapped creatures, there will be a mismatch in her aura signature. Traces of the original bond will still linger.”
The headmistress turned her gaze to Cassara. “Miss Allencourt. Do you refute this claim?”
Cassara’s fists clenched at her sides. “I’ve never broken the taming oath. My beast is … mine.”
“Then,” Kalisandra said evenly, “we will allow the beast to answer.”
Silence fell over the hall as Cassara took one step forward.
Are you ready?
Are you? came Flicker’s gentle response.
No, she admitted. But let’s do it anyway.
She pressed her hand to the aether shard.
Light bloomed from her palm, silver, soft, almost gentle, and then a shape materialized at her side.
Tiny. Shimmering. Wholly unimpressive.
Flicker blinked up at the crowd with ever curious eyes. His ears twitched. His tail curled delicately around his feet. He looked more like an overgrown kitten than a combat partner. His stats flared to life above them.
Unknown Class. Rank C.
Silence.
Then—laughter. Muted at first but spreading quickly.
A few guests tried to mask it behind handkerchiefs. One man coughed conspicuously into his wine. Someone in the upper tier let out a faint scoff.
Cassara didn’t move.
She stood perfectly still, spine straight, lips pressed into a line, as Flicker padded over to her feet and sat like a statue, unbothered by what was happening around him.
Julian’s eyes were bright with satisfaction. He thought he’d won, and he very well might have.
Gideon’s eyes had narrowed, not mocking, just watchful.
And Sonia?
Sonia looked confused. Visibly and thoroughly confused.
She opened her mouth only to close it again. She hadn’t expected this. She’d expected something dark, something monstrous, something visibly powerful. Not Flicker.
Headmistress Kalisandra descended the dais slowly, stopping only a few feet from Cassara. She studied the creature at her side.
Flicker tilted his head up, expression unreadable.
“Miss de Kere,” the headmistress said without turning, “thank you for your… concern. But it seems Miss Allencourt’s bond is very much intact and very much hers.”
Sonia’s mouth opened again, but the headmistress was already turning away.
“Next.”
The ceremony resumed. More beasts entered, announced and admired. But Cassara heard none of it. Her blood was roaring too loud in her ears.
She didn’t look at the crowd.
Her attention was on her father and the satisfaction curling behind his cool, flat gaze.
No words had been exchanged. He didn’t need them.
The message was clear.
I warned you.
He rose, said something to Lord Tremaine, and then disappeared.
The applause had barely faded. The last of the first-years were still returning to their seats, some flushed with pride, others trailing their beasts with quiet resignation, when Lord Allencourt appeared at her side.
“Walk with me,” he said without greeting.
Cassara followed. There was no choice in it, there never had been, only the foolish illusion of choice she had allowed herself to believe. They moved through the low murmur of the crowd, past nobles sipping wine and instructors offering polite congratulations. None stopped them. No one dared.
When they reached the edge of the floor, near a curtained alcove shadowed from the candlelight, he turned.
His eyes swept over her gown, her face, and finally, the small creature seated at her heel.
“So,” he said softly. “That’s what you chose to present.”
It wasn’t a question.
Cassara straightened. “His name is Flicker. And he—”
He held up a hand. “Spare me the sentimental narrative.”
The pause that followed was more brutal than any raised voice could’ve been.
“You’ve wasted enough time,” he said at last. “We’ll be leaving in the morning. Your things will be packed.”
Her stomach dropped. “What?”
“You’ve made your decision. Now I’m making mine.” His gaze flicked again to the creature by her feet. “You had the chance to distinguish yourself. To secure a future, and instead, you’ve chosen mediocrity.”
“I didn’t cheat,” she began, anger flaring in her chest. “If that’s what this is about—”
“It’s about optics, Cassara.” Her name came out cold. “It’s about strength. Status. The legacy you were so determined to represent. And you’ve shown none of it tonight.”
She felt her pulse spike. “The school year isn’t over—”
“Stop with this foolishness,” he snapped. “There are better uses for your time. Like writing up the guest list for your wedding.”
The air seemed to collapse inward.
“No,” she said, too quickly.
But before he could respond, before she could unravel, another voice slid into the silence.
“Forgive the interruption, Lord Allencourt,” Headmistress Kalisandra said, her tone cool and calm as ever. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”
Cassara hadn’t even heard her approach. Auren stood just behind her, tense and unreadable.
The headmistress’s gaze swept from father to daughter to the tiny beast beside them.
“While I understand your concerns, I must remind you that Miss Allencourt signed a binding contract upon enrollment. She is required to complete the academic year in full, unless formally expelled or otherwise incapacitated.”
Lord Allencourt’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening to interfere with my daughter’s future, Headmistress?”
“Not at all,” she said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Merely reminding you of the Academy’s legal protections. You’re a businessman. Surely you understand the importance of keeping one’s word.”
Silence stretched between them. Then he inclined his head, curt and cold.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Of course. How foolish of me to forget such… important details.”
“Not foolish at all,” Kalisandra replied with gracious magnanimity. “These are complex matters. I’m sure you’ll find the remaining months will pass quite quickly.”
Lord Allencourt’s gaze swept over Cassara one final time, and in it she saw a promise that this reprieve was temporary at best.
“Indeed,” he said coldly. “I’m sure they will.”
Without another word, he turned and strode away, leaving Cassara standing alone with the headmistress and Auren. She watched her father’s retreating figure until he disappeared into the crowd, no doubt to find Julian’s family and discuss accelerated wedding plans.
“Curious,” Kalisandra murmured, her gaze dropping to Flicker, who had remained perfectly still throughout the entire exchange. The small creature looked up at her with those impossibly large eyes, as if he were studying her in return.
“You’ve acquired an interesting companion,” Kalisandra said, though interesting was not the word that Cassara would have chosen to describe Flicker.
“I look forward to seeing how the two of you grow. Good evening, Miss Allencourt.” Then she was gliding away, leaving Cassara alone with Auren and the wreckage of her public humiliation.
Auren took a step closer, his eyes searching her face with barely concealed concern. “Cassara—”
But she was already moving, scooping Flicker into her arms and turning away from the lingering crowd, from the whispers, from everything that reminded her of how spectacularly she’d just failed.
She needed to disappear. Now.
Before anyone else could see her break.