The night whispered around Elira as she lay in bed, staring up at the faintly glowing ceiling runes of the Phoenix Wing dormitory. Her roommates' steady breaths filled the silence—Kaela's soft snores, Lyssandra's calm rhythm, Selene's faint shifting as if she never quite surrendered to sleep.
Elira turned on her side, her eyes catching the faint shimmer of her Arcanum Band on the nightstand. It pulsed like a heartbeat, waiting, always waiting. But her own heart raced louder, restless after the day's duel.
The wings of flame—those impossible, burning wings—hadn't left her mind. She hadn't summoned them. She hadn't even known she could. And yet, when Adryan's fire had pushed her, they had burst forth like something ancient demanding to be remembered.
If dragons are myths, she thought bitterly, then what was that?
Her chest thrummed with warmth, almost like a voice unspoken. But no answer came, and eventually, exhaustion pulled her into sleep.
Morning in Phoenix Wing
Sunlight streamed through enchanted glass that shifted hues with the dawn. The Phoenix Wing dormitory's common hall gleamed with banners of crimson and gold, its hearth fire eternal.
Elira descended from the girls' chambers, fastening her red cloak over her uniform. The fabric was sleek, woven with enchanted threads, its collar and sleeves bearing royal trim of gold. The cloak itself carried Phoenix Wing's crest: a flame rising into the shape of wings.
Kaela waved her over from the long table, her auburn hair in disarray. "Finally awake! Thought you'd sleep forever after yesterday's spar."
Elira managed a smile, sliding into the bench. Lyssandra sat primly with a cup of tea, already in perfect uniform, while Selene lingered near the window, quiet as ever.
"Don't remind me," Elira muttered.
Kaela leaned in conspiratorially. "Remind you? I live for it! You should've seen Adryan's face when your fire pushed him back. Priceless."
Lyssandra arched a brow. "Though uncontrolled flame can be more curse than gift. Power without discipline is dangerous."
"Lighten up, Lys." Kaela rolled her eyes. "She didn't burn the academy down, did she?"
Elira chuckled nervously. Their bickering eased some of her tension. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the bond between them was weaving tighter.
The morning bell echoed across the campus as students poured into Heaven's School's vast halls. Marble mixed with glass, staircases arcing toward floating walkways, enchanted glyphs glowing along the walls. It was both palace and academy, every corner alive with magic.
Elira walked alongside Marcell, their paths having crossed as he left the dorms with Adryan. Adryan gave her a sidelong glance—half smirk, half challenge—but said nothing before peeling away with other Phoenix Wing boys.
Marcell grinned. "Looks like you impressed him yesterday."
"More like provoked him," Elira said dryly.
"That's Adryan. He respects power, nothing else. And you showed plenty of it." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "But… your roommates are interesting too. You'll want to know who you're living with."
Elira tilted her head.
"Kaela's family are lesser nobles—rowdy but fiercely loyal. She'd throw herself into fire for a friend." He smiled. "Lys comes from a long line of spellcrafters—strict, proper, and used to being top of every class. She'll push you, whether you want her to or not."
"And Selene?" Elira asked softly.
Marcell's grin faded into something more thoughtful. "Selene is… complicated. Her family's tied to the old bloodlines—those who guarded ancient flames. She doesn't talk much, but people say she knows more about the myths than any of us."
That thought lodged itself in Elira's chest. Myths. Again.
History of Flames
Their first class of the day was Elemental Histories, held in a vaulted hall lined with murals of fire, water, earth, and air. Professor Aurist, an elder mage with a beard that seemed to smolder at its tips, tapped his staff against the floor.
"Today, we speak of fire," he declared, voice booming. "Not the fire you wield in spells or torches, but the flames that shaped empires and legends."
Elira leaned forward as the murals shimmered, depicting great figures of the past.
"Thousands of years ago, there were families who carried flames not of the mundane world, but of essence—pure, divine in origin. Among them, the most feared, the most revered, were the Flame Heirs."
Whispers stirred among students. Elira's hands tightened on her desk.
"They could command fire unlike any other," Aurist continued. "Their flames burned cities, but also lit civilizations. Yet one flame stood above them all. A flame said to have birthed creation itself—the Dragon Flame."
Elira's breath caught.
The mural shifted, showing a figure cloaked in fire that stretched like wings.
"Legends say the first of the Dragon Flame descended in the Pureblood Line, a lineage so old its roots vanish into the dawn of the world. Pure dragons, some called them—though dragons, as you know, are but myths."
Selene's golden eyes flickered toward Elira, unreadable.
Aurist's tone grew somber. "The Pureblood Line fell in time. Wars, betrayals, the envy of kingdoms. The Dragon Flame vanished. Now only fragments remain in lesser heirs."
Elira's pulse thundered in her ears. She knew—everyone knew—that she was called the last flame heiress. But if this Dragon Flame had once existed… if her fire truly wasn't ordinary…
No. That's impossible. I'm just… me.
Her thoughts tangled, heavy, until the class ended.
Bonds in Embers
That evening in the dorm, the four girls lounged in the common room. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting golden light on their faces.
Kaela was sprawled on the rug, tossing enchanted cards into the air and catching them. "Did you see Professor Aurist's face when he talked about Dragon Flame? Like he was half in love with the story."
Lyssandra sniffed. "Because it is just a story. The Dragon Flame was exaggerated. Nothing in recorded history proves its existence."
"Then how do you explain Elira's fire yesterday?" Kaela shot back.
Elira choked. "What? No—"
Selene's voice cut through, quiet but steady. "Not all flames are the same. Some burn brighter. Some… are meant to change the world."
Her gaze lingered on Elira, and Elira felt heat rise to her cheeks—not from flame, but from the weight of the unspoken.
Kaela grinned. "See? Even Selene thinks you're special."
Elira groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "Can we not?"
Their laughter filled the hall, light and warm, and for the first time since arriving, Elira felt the bond between them knitting stronger.
Restless Fire
Later, when her roommates had gone to sleep, Elira sat by the window. The city below glowed with lanterns, magic weaving through the air like silver threads.
She touched her chest, where the warmth never faded.
Last flame heiress. That's all I am. Right?
But the wings of fire she had seen, the history lesson, Selene's cryptic words—they whispered otherwise.
And somewhere deep inside, beneath her heartbeat, the Dragon Flame stirred again.
Not yet revealed. Not yet understood. But waiting.