CHAPTER 308: OVER-EXCITEMENT

The training field was alive with fire and sparks, and so was my mind.

My thoughts kept slipping back to Rachel, to the little bits of confession she’d dropped like pebbles in a pond. She had told me about the brides of the triplets, how they’d been chosen, paraded, displayed like trophies. Her words had carried weight, the kind of weight one wears like chains.

And then, when I had asked her quietly, half-jokingly, half-genuinely—if she didn’t feel bad about not being with Adam—the words that spilled from her lips had surprised me. "I hate him," she’d said, with a casual shrug.

Hate him? My brows had shot up, but I had said nothing, biting the inside of my cheek. What use was there in arguing with such raw truth? If Rachel hated Adam, then maybe that was her shield. Or maybe it was the only way she could breathe free.

My mind whirled with images of the brides. I knew them, some faintly, some almost personally. Their laughter, their faces, their proud smiles, their delicate airs—how were they faring?

How would they survive once I set fire to everything? Their lives would be ripped apart, scattered like dry leaves in the wind.

And me? I wasn’t troubled by the thought. If anything, I was thrilled. I wanted the days to speed by, wanted the moments to run like wild horses until I was standing in the midst of my vengeance.

Unknowingly, I had gathered magic into my hands. The ball of fire spun lazily in my palm, layer upon layer of color weaving itself: burning blue at the core, stretching into tongues of yellow and red, fringed with a crown of gold. Sparks licked the air around it, sizzling with power.

Beneath the orb, I had unknowingly pulled water into a small pool—liquid shimmering, rippling, holding the fire aloft without burning.

"Sage."

The queen’s voice cut through my trance. I blinked, startled, as her sharp eyes zeroed in on the sphere hovering above my hand.

"What takes up your mind?" she asked, her tone sharp but curious.

"Rachel’s gist," I said without thought, smirking as my eyes caught the flame dancing.

Her brows arched, an unspoken question hovering. "Does that pose a problem?"

I laughed, a short, sarcastic bark of sound. "Are you kidding me?"

And before anyone could move, I let the fireball explode outward. It burst with a low boom, a spray of molten light that painted the sky in hues of blue, yellow, red, and gold.

Gasps rippled across the field. Guards halted mid-stride. Servants pressed hands to their mouths. The magic whirled in shimmering arcs, flames kissing the air before dissolving harmlessly. The water beneath hissed and evaporated, leaving nothing but steam curling in ghostly ribbons.

I ignored their awe, rolling my shoulders and stretching my fingers like I’d merely cracked a knuckle. Let them gape. I had bigger storms brewing inside me.

The queen’s lips twitched, meanwhile, something like a smile ghosting her face. "Your magic grows more impressive by the day." Her voice lowered, speculative. "But tell me—does your Other support it?"

My head snapped toward her, heart skipping. "My... Other?"

She nodded. "Raul suspected. He told me then. It sounded like nonsense to be honest. I dismissed it. But now..." Her gaze swept to the still-fading shimmer of my explosion. "Now I wonder."

I froze. My blood roared in my ears. I had never spoken of El—not to anyone, not even to the queen. The only ones who knew had been my family.

So Raul really believed there was an other those years ago? How much had he pieced together?

I forced a shrug finally, aiming for casual. "There was an Other," I admitted, my voice flat. "But it died. The night I was stabbed, it died with me. Whatever you see here—" I flexed my hands, sparks still licking my fingertips "—is mine. All mine."

The queen studied me for a long, heavy moment, her silence pressing. Then she gave a slow nod. "Very well. We are done for today. I have a meeting."

I dipped my chin. "Thank you for the training."

Her gown whispered as she turned, striding off the field with guards in tow.

I sank to the ground, pressing my palms into the dirt, staring at nothing. El. My Other.

The silence that had stretched since that night was louder than any explosion. Where had El gone? I never did find out.

Had the goddess stripped it from me for my disobedience? I never did find out either.

The thought made my chest tighten, but then I scoffed aloud. "Curse you. Curse El. Curse the goddess." My voice dripped with defiance.

I was doing this my way. Carving my destiny with fire, with blood, with stubborn fists. No one—god or phantom—would stop me.

A servant passed nearby. I snapped my fingers. "Bring food to my room."

He bowed quickly, scurrying off. I rose, dusting off my hands, and sauntered away like nothing weighed me down.

Hours later, I found myself strolling through the community with Isla and Rachel, both flanking me like shadows with their own brightness. The sun hung low, glinting off the newly polished stone pathways.

Rachel gestured grandly as we walked, her tone rich with pride.

"See that?" she pointed to a row of houses. "Expanded. Two floors now, with solar lamps on the balconies. And there—new market stalls. Trade has doubled since the borders opened."

A pause, "The water channels have been reinforced. No more floods in the rainy season. Farmers are actually smiling these days. We don’t have to use magic for everything. It needs to be conserved for the rainy days."

I hummed, pretending to be impressed, though my eyes kept straying. New archways, carved with intricate designs. Fountains sprouting crystal-clear water. Children darting between shops with laughter trailing. It was... lively. Too lively.

Then we turned a corner—and I froze.

Chyra. And her clique. The same girls who had tried to bully me in school, smug faces I would never forget. They stood together, still flocking like birds who could never fly alone.

Not surprising.

I half-expected hisses, whispers, mockery. But instead, they bowed. One by one.

Right. I reminded myself. I wasn’t Dora here. I was Raul’s bride, hidden under a plain brown wig and contact lenses. To them, I was untouchable.

I ignored their greetings, brushing past them without a glance. Rachel and Isla matched my pace, but I didn’t miss the sharp flicker in Chyra’s aura. Envy. Jealousy. The same old poison swirling around her.

I smirked, unbothered. Of course.

Then, without warning, my feet turned toward a familiar path. Toward the place my family once called home.

Rachel burst into laughter, catching me in the act obviously. "I was waiting for it," she teased, clutching her stomach. "You lasted longer than I thought though."