Chapter 170: I Lost Control
{Elira}
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"I’m trying!" I shot back at Lennon breathlessly.
"But not hard enough." He darted forward again, and this time, my foot slipped on the mat. I went down hard, and my palms stung.
Then he crouched in front of me, smirk infuriatingly bright. "You are adorable when you are flustered, you know that?"
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Heat flushed my cheeks, and I scrambled to my feet again with a clenched jaw. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of quitting. But every muscle in my body was already screaming.
Zenon’s voice cut through the sparring, steady as steel. "Focus, Elira. You won’t outpace him yet, but you can still learn from this."
I bit down on my frustration and nodded, forcing myself back into position. I dragged in another breath, sweat already clinging to my back.
Lennon was circling me again, fast, relentless. Every time I blinked, he was there, tapping a shoulder, grazing a rib, knocking my balance just enough to remind me he could have flattened me if he wanted to.
But inside, a single thought burned louder than all the rest. ’Why was he pushing this hard?’
This was Lennon. The same one who smirked every time I got flustered, who whispered ridiculous lines in my ear just to see me blush.
I had expected his training to be peppered with jokes, maybe playful nudges. Instead, he was fire—wild, scorching, and giving me no space to breathe.
"Don’t stop moving," he barked, cutting across my hesitation. His grin was still there, but it had sharpened now and was edged with heat. "Your enemy won’t pause so you can think."
I stumbled aside too slowly. His palm landed against my stomach with a light thud, enough to make me gasp.
"You are holding back," he said, circling again. "Why? Because you are used to me flirting with you instead of fighting you?"
My cheeks burned. He wasn’t wrong.
His eyes narrowed, voice dropping low but fierce. "Forget that Lennon. Right now, I’m the opponent who wants to take you down. If you don’t start treating me like it, you will lose. Every. Single. Time."
My chest heaved, confusion and frustration mixing in equal measure.
I didn’t know whether to snap at him or thank him—so I did the only thing I could. I lunged forward, clumsy but determined.
And then what happened? I ended up looking a fool once more.
"Every. Single. Time."
Lennon’s words rang in my ears, sharper than his strikes, sharper than his smirk.
I was sick of the heat in his eyes, sick of stumbling after every blow, sick of being reminded how weak I was.
My hands clenched into fists. My chest burned—not with breathlessness, but with something hotter, something coiled deep inside that I had no name for.
"Stop looking at me like that," I snapped.
Lennon cocked his head, still circling. "Like what?"
"Like I will never catch up." The words tore out of me, harsh and raw.
His grin widened, infuriatingly calm. "Then prove me wrong."
A few moments later, something inside me snapped.
Heat flared—rushing, roaring, uncontrollable. My skin burned, light flickering at my fingertips before I even realized what I was doing.
Lennon’s eyes widened just a fraction—just enough.
And then fire lashed out, wild and furious, straight at him.
He ducked, barely, the flames searing across the mat where he had stood a heartbeat ago. His laughter, breathless and sharp, rang out even as he threw himself to the side.
"That’s it!" he shouted, dodging again as another burst of fire crackled from my hand, too hot, too wild. "That’s what I wanted to see!"
"Shut up!" My voice cracked, tears stinging my eyes as the heat surged again, slipping through every crack in my control. I wasn’t aiming. I wasn’t choosing. I was just burning, and every spark sought him.
Lennon darted, rolled, laughed like this was the best fight he had ever had. But I could see the sweat on his brow, the way his grin wavered for a second when a flame scorched too close to his arm.
I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t reel it back.
"Zenon!" Rennon’s voice cracked from the sidelines, tight with alarm.
But I didn’t hear what Zenon answered. The fire was too loud. The fury was too loud.
All I saw was Lennon—grinning, dodging, and daring me to burn brighter.
Once more, the fire burst out of me again, hotter this time, licking across the air in a wild arc.
Lennon twisted, his grin still sharp, but I saw it, the way his breath hitched, and the way the edge of the flame singed too close.
"Good, Elira!" he shouted, reckless and maddening. "Don’t hold back—"
"Enough!" Zenon’s voice cut through the chaos like steel on stone.
In the blink of an eye, he was between us. One arm shot out, and the air itself seemed to bend to his will—my flames hit a wall of sheer dominance and collapsed, hissing into nothing.
The silence after was deafening. My chest heaved, my hands still trembling with heat, my throat raw.
Lennon stood a few feet away, still breathing hard, a streak of soot across his sleeve. His grin was smaller now, tempered, but his eyes burned with the same maddening spark.
"Not bad," he said lightly, as though I hadn’t just tried to set him on fire.
I stared at him, horrified. "I—I didn’t mean to—"
Zenon’s gaze snapped to me, sharp and unrelenting. "You lost control."
My lips parted, but no words came. He was right. The flames had burst out of me, wild, hungry, and had aimed at only one target.
Rennon’s voice, soft but firm, broke in. "That is why he told you not to use your powers yet."
My knees threatened to buckle under the weight of it—the fear, the shame and the raw burn of power I couldn’t contain.
Zenon’s eyes lingered on me a moment longer, then he spoke with the finality of a verdict. "Training is over."
The words landed like a stone in my chest, and the silence in the hall was heavier when Zenon turned his back.
He strode toward the door without another word, his presence still sharp enough to cut.
Lennon wiped the soot from his sleeve with a shrug, a smirk curling back onto his lips. "Well, that was fun."
’Fun?’ He had nearly been roasted alive, and he called it fun.
Rennon shot him a look but didn’t speak, instead moving toward me. His hand hovered near my elbow as if to steady me, but he didn’t touch me.
"Elira." His tone was calm, almost gentle. "Breathe."
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until the air rushed out of me in a shudder. My hands still trembled, heat buzzing faintly under my skin, a restless and foreign sensation.
I forced myself to follow them out of the training hall, every step heavier than the last.
By the time the door closed behind us, my thoughts were already spiralling.
I had lost control. Not just a little slip, but utterly, completely. The fire had come alive in me, wild and furious, and I hadn’t been able to stop it.
What if Zenon hadn’t stepped in? What if Lennon had been burned badly?
My stomach churned, and my chest ached at the same time.
How had I even managed it? Just hours ago, I hadn’t dared to test my powers. Now they had exploded out of me, fierce and merciless.
And Zenon...
The memory of his face burned sharper than the flames. Not angry, exactly, but something colder. Disappointed. Stern. Like I had already failed a test he hadn’t even given me.
That look weighed heavier than the exhaustion in my body.
I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground as we walked. For once, I didn’t want to see Lennon’s grin or Rennon’s calm gaze. And I couldn’t bear to look at Zenon at all.
Because all I could think was: if this was just the beginning, how was I supposed to survive what was coming next?
As we walked in silence, Rennon’s voice broke it, quiet but firm. "Elira."
I glanced at him, my throat tight. His eyes, thoughtful as always, were steady on me—not condemning or mocking, just... seeing.
"What happened back there can’t happen again," he said. "Not like that. You need to understand what’s at stake."
Shame prickled hot under my skin. "I didn’t mean to—"
"I know," Rennon cut in gently, though his tone stayed sharp enough to hold my attention. "But intent doesn’t erase the danger. You lost control. And next time, you might not have someone there to stop it."
My steps faltered. He pressed on.
"Listen to me carefully, Elira. During the combat tests, you are not allowed to use your powers. If you do, you won’t just be disqualified—you will face punishment. Severe punishment. The Academy doesn’t tolerate risks like that."