Morning came dressed in gold, but the light brought no warmth to Elara.
The halls of the palace whispered more than usual. Servants paused in their duties to glance at her with nervous glances. Courtiers avoided her eyes. Something was coming. She could feel it in the air—tight and charged, like a storm waiting to break.
She was summoned to the central courtyard just after dawn.
The message was clear: By the order of Princess Rin'Hwa.
Elara's feet moved automatically, but her stomach felt as though it had turned to stone. She had barely slept. The glow in her bowl the night before still haunted her. And now, something colder stalked her steps.
She crossed through the red corridors, past carved dragons and silent guards, until the sky opened above her in the vast marble courtyard.
It was already full.
Servants lined the outer rim like shadows. The three princesses stood at the head of the gathering, each flanked by handmaidens, dressed in court colors. Rin'Hwa was in the center, her crimson silk robe catching the morning light like blood. Beside her, San'Ha stood like a frozen statue—silent, arms crossed. Min'Ra lingered at the far end, her expression unreadable.
The moment Elara stepped into the open, the murmuring ceased.
"You," Rin'Hwa said, her voice a shard of ice. "You were seen leaving the alchemist's tower. That wing is forbidden to servants."
Elara bowed her head, calm on the outside. "I was delivering herbs for the kitchens, Your Highness. I got lost on my way back."
Liar.
Rin'Hwa's lips curled. "How strange. The path from the herb garden doesn't pass near the tower at all."
Elara said nothing.
Rin'Hwa stepped down from the dais, her eyes narrowing. "Do you think we're fools, girl? That because you're Father's newest amusement, you can disobey the laws of this palace?"
Elara's jaw clenched, but she kept her head low. "I didn't mean to break the law, Your Highness."
"You've done more than break the law," Rin'Hwa snapped. "You've offended the royal family. And you must be corrected."
San'Ha turned slightly, watching with cool detachment. Min'Ra looked away.
Rin'Hwa turned to the gathering. "Bring the cane."
Gasps rippled through the servants. One girl covered her mouth. Even one of the guards hesitated.
Punishment in the open courtyard was rare—and brutal.
Elara lifted her head. "That's not necessary. I—"
Rin'Hwa stepped closer, smiling sweetly. "You will kneel."
And Elara did.
Not because she was afraid—but because she knew.
If she refused now, if she fought or if the magic in her veins erupted—everything would fall apart. Too soon. Too fast. She wasn't ready.
So she knelt.
The cane was brought. Long. Polished wood. Thick enough to leave bruises. The servant carrying it looked terrified.
Rin'Hwa took it herself.
"You don't deserve palace colors," she said. "You'll bleed in the dirt like you came from it."
Then came the first strike.
It was a burning line of pain across Elara's back.
She didn't cry out.
The second strike followed, sharper. The third cracked against her ribs. She bit down on her lip, tasting blood. Her eyes blurred.
The fourth…
The fifth…
On the sixth, something inside her flared.
A spark.
Not emotional.
Elemental.
It began in her spine—heat licking up her nerves like flame climbing dry paper. Her breathing changed. Her heartbeat slowed. The pain seemed to shift into something distant.
And her hair—
It shimmered.
Just faintly. A glint like metal under sunlight.
Then sparks.
Tiny. Barely visible. But real.
One fell from her braid and sizzled on the marble.
Another leapt from her shoulder, landing at Rin'Hwa's feet.
The princess stepped back.
"What—?"
The cane froze in midair. Silence blanketed the courtyard.
Elara didn't move. Her eyes were closed. Her fists were clenched so tight her nails dug into her skin.
Then the sparks stopped.
The shimmer faded.
The air cooled.
Elara opened her eyes slowly and looked up—not at Rin'Hwa, but past her. Toward the sky. Toward the future. Her voice was steady.
"Is it done?"
Rin'Hwa hesitated. The cane trembled slightly in her grip.
San'Ha broke the silence. "That's enough."
Her voice was calm. But sharp. The kind of calm that cut deeper than shouting.
Rin'Hwa turned to her. "She—"
"We all saw it. That's enough."
Min'Ra finally stepped forward, kneeling beside Elara, offering a silk handkerchief. "You should clean your mouth," she whispered. "The blood."
Elara took it. Their fingers brushed.
Min'Ra looked away quickly.
Rin'Hwa dropped the cane. It clattered loudly on the marble. Then she turned and stalked off without another word.
The crowd slowly dispersed.
Elara stayed kneeling until she was sure no one was watching.
Then she stood.
Her legs shook, but she didn't fall.
She walked slowly back to her chamber, every step a struggle, every breath a knife. But she walked.
That night, alone in her room, she peeled off her robe and looked at her back in the mirror. Welts. Some bleeding. Some already darkening with bruises.
She touched one.
A spark danced on her fingertip.
Not uncontrolled. Not wild.
Intentional.
"I could have stopped it," she whispered.
But she hadn't.
She had chosen pain over exposure.
And it had almost broken her.
Almost.
She turned to the bowl on the table. The water was dark. Still. Waiting.
"I won't be helpless again," she said.
Her voice didn't tremble.
Neither did her hand as it ignited briefly with golden flame—just enough to light the room with her promise.