Chapter 7 #2
The female from House Cerebral looked up, eyes rolling before narrowing into a glare. “Why are you just standing there? Take notes! It’s the least you can do to contribute. That way, when Professor Hale asks for a full report, you have everything you need to write it up,” she said with a sneer.
Alaire tuned her out, instead focusing on the barrier. The vines had begun to strain under the combined elements, looking ready to snap at any moment. Subtle fractures were already forming that would unravel their work entirely—and everyone else was too busy bickering to notice.
“Are you even listening?” the same girl from House Cerebral barked. “You’re supposed to be?—”
“You should be worried about the barrier instead of me and your precious notes.” Alaire didn’t even look at her.
Wielding aether was all about balance. It required control—understanding the push and pull of each element and how they complemented or detracted from one another. Her group’s lack of consideration for that balance would unravel their barrier.
An air wielder from House Aetheris—a subject of the cocky prince—tilted her head, creating a vortex of air around the barrier. But the air currents were too erratic, the wind too forceful. Everything was going to spiral out of control.
“What are you talking about?” the air wielder asked, brows scrunching as her eyes searched Alaire’s face.
“The barrier is about to collapse. There’s no balance,” Alaire replied.
Elements clashed dangerously: lightning sparked too fiercely within the water, and wind threatened to scatter the vines.
“What do you think I should do?” The air wielder’s hesitation was palpable.
Mustering confidence she didn’t feel, Alaire advised, “Your wind’s not a battering ram.” Even someone as new to magic as Alaire could see the wielder was using it like a hammer to match the brute strength of the other houses. “Wrap it around the stems and water. Soft, steady.”
The air wielder hesitated, glancing at Alaire’s ears before following her suggestion and softening the currents. The barrier crystallized into an iridescent rainbow of seamless power.
Triumph surged through Alaire. She could contribute by piecing together solutions others overlooked. There might be a way—apart from magic—to be valuable after all.
“Professor Hale!” a group member called out, puffing out their chest. “We got it!”
“Wait—stop!” Alaire stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the splintering cracks in the barrier. “It’s still unstable. The?—”
A sharp, subtle but deliberate shove caught her off guard, sending her stumbling forward. Her boots caught on the uneven stone floor, and her shoulder clipped the edge of the barrier.
It cracked apart like glass under a mallet, shards of magic scattering in an explosive surge.
Wind slammed into someone’s chest, knocking them backward.
Water drenched everyone’s uniforms. Lightning danced dangerously along small puddles.
The group scattered, shouting as they scrambled to contain the fallout: earth smothered the live currents, wind dried their uniforms, but the air wielder was injured by a stray lightning strike.
The only fae who’d listened to Alaire was the one who got hurt.
Turning to the air wielder, the female from House Aqualis snapped, “Take this as a lesson—you should’ve known better than to listen to her .”
The earth wielder with soft brown eyes grabbed the air wielder’s elbow and escorted her out of the room.
“Blowing it all to the seven hells was a big help,” the brute from House Arculum growled at Alaire. “You could’ve gotten us all killed!”
Their stares pressed against her, but she refused to flinch under their judgment.
Alaire forced her hands to unclench. She lifted her chin, a sharp smile cutting across her face. “Gotten you all killed?” she echoed, dripping with sarcasm. “You’re welcome to explain how your brilliant teamwork was already spiraling into disaster before I touched anything. Don’t worry—I’ll wait.”
The words hung in the air, inspiring fresh glares. Alaire didn’t care.
Professor Hale’s accusatory tone silenced any retorts as she approached the group.
“Did you not hear what I said about respect for each other earlier?” She shook her head, releasing a long sigh.
“Luckily, no one was severely injured. This is a lesson I hope you all take seriously moving forward. Success is shared just as much as failure.”
Alaire pressed her lips together.
“Make sure this mess is cleaned up,” Professor Hale continued, her tone softer now. “Remember—magic isn’t just about balance. It’s about trust.”
Alaire nodded. Trust . She would never trust them; she didn’t need to.
But as she returned to her seat, humiliated, she couldn’t help the shame curling in her chest. That insidious whisper rose again: They’re right. You don’t belong here.
Alaire drowned in it for a heartbeat, then shoved it down. She didn’t have to belong. She just had to be better.
There was no room for weakness here. No space for error—not for her.