The wheels of the carriage rolled with a steady rhythm, each turn carrying Elira further from the scorched stones of the Academy and deeper into the unknown. The sound of hooves clattering against the road blended with the creak of wood, a strange lullaby that spoke not of rest but of inevitability.
Elira sat by the window, watching the horizon unfurl. Rolling hills gave way to forests painted in hues of emerald, their branches reaching skyward like ancient guardians. The air grew sharper the further they traveled, touched by a coolness that whispered of the heights awaiting them.
Marcell sat across from her, his elbow propped lazily against the sill. Despite the bandages wrapping his arm, his grin hadn't dimmed. "You realize," he said, breaking the silence, "this is the first time in years I've been this far from home without someone yelling at me to come back."
Elira glanced at him, raising a brow. "Homesick already?"
"Please." He leaned back, dramatic as ever. "I've been dying to escape the dullness of that village since I was ten. This? This is an adventure."
His grin faltered for a fraction of a second, though, and Elira caught it—the flicker of nerves he tried to bury beneath his bravado. She didn't call him out for it. Instead, she let the silence between them stretch comfortably, like a cloak they both wore.
The carriage wasn't theirs alone.
Seated near the back were four other students—chosen, like them, to ascend to Heaven's School. Their gazes held varying shades of curiosity, disdain, and calculation.
A girl with hair the color of burnished copper twirled a dagger idly between her fingers, her eyes sharp and watchful. Beside her, a boy with pale skin and ink-black hair leaned against the wall, half-asleep, though Elira could feel the quiet intensity radiating from him even in slumber.
Opposite them sat twins, their silver-blond hair braided with tiny beads that jingled softly with each bump of the road. They whispered to one another in low voices, their laughter quick and knowing, as though the world itself were an inside joke only they understood.
Elira felt their eyes on her from time to time. She ignored them.
For now.
Hours passed. The sun climbed, then dipped. The road narrowed as the carriage began to climb into the highlands. The forests gave way to jagged cliffs, waterfalls spilling down into mist-shrouded valleys below.
Elira pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her breath fogging the window. For the first time since the Trial, she allowed herself to exhale fully. The Academy was behind her. Serenya's fierce grip, Vaelith's shadowed warning—both had left marks deeper than scars.
She reached into her cloak, fingertips brushing the shard of obsidian Vaelith had given her. Its surface pulsed faintly, or perhaps she only imagined it. She closed her eyes, letting the weight ground her.
Silver does not kneel to gold.
Her own voice answered the echo: But what about silver to itself?
The carriage jolted suddenly. The horses screamed.
Marcell's hand shot out, steadying her as the wheels slammed into a rut. Outside, the forest had thickened again, branches bending unnaturally close to the road. Shadows shifted where no wind stirred them.
The copper-haired girl's dagger stilled. "Something's wrong."
The driver shouted from the front, but his voice cut off with a sickening snap. The horses reared, the carriage tipping dangerously before righting itself.
Elira's pulse spiked.
And then, from the treeline, they came.
Figures cloaked in bark and bone, their eyes glowing with eerie green light. Their bodies were twisted, half-human, half-root, as though the forest itself had given birth to them. They moved silently, unnervingly fast, surrounding the carriage in moments.
Marcell swore. "Bandits?"
"No." Elira's voice was steady despite the storm rising in her chest. "Not human."
The twins muttered in unison, their voices overlapping. "Woodborn. Corrupted spirits."
The black-haired boy finally opened his eyes. They gleamed like obsidian, cold and sharp. "Perfect." He stretched languidly, as if waking from a nap. "I was getting bored."
The door burst open before anyone could move, and one of the creatures lunged inside. Its wooden claws reached for Elira, its mouth splitting unnaturally wide.
Her silver flame flared instinctively, clawing against her ribs, demanding release.
Marcell was faster. He yanked her back, his bandaged arm glowing faintly as he summoned his own fire, lashing out with a wave of scarlet heat. The creature shrieked, its body splintering, but two more replaced it instantly.
The carriage shuddered as the driver's body was dragged into the trees.
"Out!" the copper-haired girl barked, kicking the opposite door open. She leapt into the fray, her dagger gleaming as it sank into wooden flesh.
The others followed.
Elira's feet hit the dirt, her breath sharp. The forest closed around them, the road swallowed by shadows.
And then the fight began.
Fire clashed against wood, steel against claw.
The copper-haired girl danced through the chaos, her dagger flashing like lightning. Each strike cut deep, but for every Woodborn she felled, two more emerged.
The twins fought as one, weaving their fire into mirrored patterns that tangled and burned their foes. Their laughter echoed, eerie and unshaken, as though this battle were just another game.
The black-haired boy barely seemed to move, yet every gesture of his hand sent invisible blades slicing through bark and bone. His expression never shifted from bored detachment.
Marcell fought with reckless courage, his fire burning brighter than his wounds should allow. He placed himself between Elira and every claw that came too close, grinning even as blood seeped through his bandages.
And Elira—
Her flame roared inside her, begging to be unleashed. Silver light seared the edges of her vision. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to fight with steel instead of fire, her blade cutting where she could, blocking where she must. But every time the Woodborn's glowing eyes met hers, she felt the ember twist, whispering, Burn them. Burn everything.
A claw slashed too close. Instinct took over.
Silver burst from her palm, scorching the creature into ash in a single flash.
The others froze. Even the Woodborn seemed to hesitate, their glowing eyes widening.
Elira stood panting, her hand trembling, silver smoke curling from her fingers.
Marcell's voice cut through the silence. "Well," he said, forcing a grin. "That's one way to even the odds."
But she saw the flicker of unease in his eyes.
The battle raged until the forest itself seemed to recoil. The Woodborn retreated at last, melting back into the shadows. The trees straightened, their branches loosening, as if ashamed of their violence.
The chosen students regrouped by the battered carriage. The driver was gone—dragged into the woods, never to return.
The copper-haired girl wiped her blade clean, her sharp gaze landing on Elira. "What was that?"
Elira swallowed. "My flame."
The twins giggled, whispering to one another. "Not a flame. Not really. Something older. Something hungrier."
The black-haired boy studied her in silence, his expression unreadable. Then he turned away, as though she were not worth the question.
Marcell stepped in front of her, his grin gone, his voice steady. "Whatever it is, it kept us alive. That's enough."
No one argued. But Elira could feel their eyes on her still, weighing, measuring.
They abandoned the carriage, continuing on foot. The road wound higher, the air thinning as clouds swirled low across the mountains. The world grew sharper here, colors brighter, as though they were walking not toward the heavens but into them.
By the time night fell, they reached a cliff's edge.
And there, across the chasm, it stood.
Heaven's School.
Sprawling towers of crystal and stone rose from the mountaintop, spires piercing the clouds. Bridges of light stretched across the sky, shimmering with fire so pure it seemed divine. The entire fortress glowed faintly, as though the heavens themselves had poured their essence into its walls.
Elira's breath caught.
This was no mere school. This was a citadel of gods.
And tomorrow, she would walk through its gates.
-----
If you like this than read my book "HER TEARS, HER PAIN"
And "Bound By Fire: The Possessive"
They are unique and full of joy stories.
Waiting too see your respond.