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And then I felt it. As if for the first time, I was something other than weak.

Gloria spun around to face me.

The feeling vanished instantly.

Her gray eyes glinted, as if I had only imagined the shadow of fear. Gloria and fear. Something that didn't quite fit.

All the nervousness came crashing down on me, followed by the feelings that had caused me to break down in the bathroom that morning.

I couldn't take it anymore and rushed to the door, threw it open, stormed down the corridor with my hands under my belly – as far as the weight of my babies would allow – and left this room and the two women who wanted to use me as a puppet on their strings behind me.

I ran and ran, faster and faster, but then I heard students coming up the stairs.

I didn't want anyone to see me like this – agitated and panicked – so I pressed myself against the wall behind a column in the side corridor opposite Alarik's office.

When the students had passed me, my gaze drifted to the massive wooden door with snake carvings and vine decorations in the metal across from me. Without thinking twice, I looked around one last time before entering Alarik's office.

Flame

Angus MacRae

The director wasn't there. Of course not. It was seven p.m., and he was giving his last literature lecture, which Bayla was attending right now.

Without further hesitation, I rushed through the secret passageway, up the stairs, and into the tower room.

As if that had been the final drop that made the cup overflow, I sank to my knees in front of the fireplace and began to cry.

I had been holding it in for two hours, trying to hold back what wanted to come out, and if everything hadn't already frozen in Harlow's office, it would have happened now.

Sobbing violently, I lay down on the carpet, staring into the flickering fireplace, watching the fire eating away at the storage spell coals – which most likely had to be centuries old – and more and more tears intensified the colors of the carpet next to my face, forming a visible stain.

I was a prisoner in this town, just like all of us. But for me, it was different, more drastic. I was the mother of the chosen one. At least, that's what they all believed. And if enough people believed in something – true or not – it became their new reality.

On top of that, I had lost the only person who meant the world to me forty-four hours ago.

Forever.

My loud sobs were unraveling into the vast room, getting swallowed up by a breeze caused by my uncontrolled air energy, which blew out the candles. They tried to light themselves again. Unsuccessfully. One glance told me that ice had formed around the wicks.

Before visiting Rebecca, I had taken off Quentin's ring so she wouldn't sense that I was using something to suppress my Quatura powers. That, at least, was the excuse I clung to, because in truth, it hurt to see that ring.

Somehow, my hands wandered to the bump of my belly.

What had I done to us? To Erik and me... And all this at a time when I needed him most.

Couldn't the gods have shown us the mercy of allowing us to live a human life?

They wouldn't be our gods if they knew mercy.

I squeezed my eyes shut in pain. More tears.

Everything in me longed to be with him, to text him, to return to his house and apologize, to throw myself into his arms and break down there... not here.

But I had already done enough damage, and he had every right to send me away.

I didn't deserve his love. I deserved this punishment.

Erik should be spared. From all of this.