The voice behind Anna was sharp, bright with mockery, and loud enough that several trainees paused mid-strike.
"Well, I'll be damned," the girl said. "The rumors were true. They actually let a magicless runt into the Circle."
Anna turned.
A girl about fourteen—older, taller, stronger-looking—stood with two others flanking her like bored, well-trained shadows. Her hair was braided tight against her scalp, her uniform pristine, her stance relaxed in the way only someone very sure of herself could manage.
Her eyes swept over Anna like one might inspect a cracked training dummy.
"So it's you," the girl continued, tilting her head. "The little princess who can't summon a spark but somehow gets a Circle uniform delivered to her door."
A few trainees nearby exchanged glances. Some winced. Some watched openly.
Anna felt her stomach tighten—but her back straightened on instinct.
The older girl's smile thinned, smug and merciless.
"Tell me, did they pity you? Or did someone pull a few royal strings so you wouldn't embarrass your family?" She clicked her tongue. "Thrilled to have you, truly. I've never trained next to a liability before."
Her friends snickered.
Anna opened her mouth—she wasn't sure if she meant to defend herself or tell the girl to back off—but no sound came out.
Her chest buzzed. A faint, electric hum under her ribs.
Not resonance. Not exactly.
Something worse.
The girl stepped closer, lowering her voice so only Anna could hear, though others still watched intently.
"Don't worry. You won't last long. We'll make sure of that."
Anna swallowed hard—once.
Then twice.
But her feet didn't move.
Her sisters still weren't here.
And now everyone was staring.
The girl circled slightly, hands clasped behind her back as if she were inspecting a curiosity rather than addressing another trainee.
"Look at you," she said lightly, almost cheerfully. "Standing here all alone. Not so tough without your sisters hovering around you, huh?"
Anna's breath hitched—but she didn't look away.
The girl smirked at that.
"Oh, don't give me that look. Everyone knows Talia and Elara carry you everywhere you go. Must be nice, isn't it?" She flicked a finger toward Anna's chest, not quite touching her. "Having the whole world handed to you. A prestigious family name, royal blood, a spot in the Circle you didn't earn—just gift-wrapped for you."
Her friends nodded, one crossing her arms, the other snorting under her breath.
The girl leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur threaded with poison.
"Some of us had to fight for our place here. Bleed for it. Prove we belong every single day." Her smile sharpened. "But you? You just walk in. No magic. No skill. No nothing. And they still expect us to take you seriously."
Anna felt something tighten—deep in her chest, low in her spine, a pressure that felt too warm, too bright.
The girl didn't notice.
She straightened, lifting her chin in triumphant disdain and said, "Hope you enjoy the view while you can."
Anna's fingers curled slowly into fists. The air around her vibrated. Just faintly.
Anna didn't mean to speak.
The words slipped out—low, rough, almost like they'd been dragged up from somewhere deeper than her own lungs.
"Shut up."
The sound was quiet… but it hit the air like a weight.
The girl's smirk faltered. Her friends stopped whispering. Even the distant clang of metal from the sparring ring seemed to fade, as if the training grounds themselves were straining to hear.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
The girl opened her mouth to fire back, but then it hit her.
A wave.
Not a gust, not a spark, not something she could point to or laugh off.
A pulse of pressure—thin, sharp, invisible—rolling off Anna's body the instant she spoke. It wasn't enough to knock anyone over, but it was enough to feel.
Enough to make the girls breath catch for half a second.
Enough to make her eyes widen before she could stop herself.
She recovered fast—too fast—straightening her spine and shoving her chin up as if nothing had rattled her at all.
The scoff she forced out was brittle, stretched thin around the edges.
"Oh, please," Tanya said, voice a touch too loud. "You think growling at me is going to do anything? You have some nerve, princess. Acting like you're tough now just because your sisters aren't here to hold your hand."
One of her friends tugged on her sleeve, leaning in with a worried whisper.
"Maybe we should stop, Tanya. I felt—"
Tanya snapped her hand up, cutting her off without looking away from Anna.
"I said I've got it."
Her friend fell silent immediately.
But Tanya's fingers… They trembled just once before she clenched them into a fist.
Tanya stepped closer, just enough to make Anna feel the weight of her presence without touching her. Her smile was sharp, predatory, each word chosen to sting.
"You really think you belong here, don't you?" Tanya said, tilting her head, letting the words drip slowly like poison. "Standing there in your shiny new uniform, all proud and shiny… but everyone knows the truth. You can't summon, you can't fight, you can barely even hold a lens without someone double-checking your work."
She leaned slightly forward, eyes glinting. "And now you're acting like you're fearless? Alone? Without your sisters to back you up? That's cute. Really. But it's pathetic, too. How long before someone actually teaches you what it means to earn your place here?"
One of her friends snickered, but Tanya's gaze never left Anna.
"You must love it," Tanya continued, voice softer now, almost intimate in its mockery, "having everything handed to you. A uniform, a spot in the Circle, people pretending you're special. Tell me, does it feel good to lie to yourself that you deserve it?"
Anna's chest tightened, pulse spiking. Every nerve in her body buzzed. She didn't move, didn't speak—just felt the words scrape against her, the way someone sharp might drag a blade along stone.
Tanya's smirk widened, cruel and sharp. "And your sisters—Talia and Elara—what a pair, huh? Always swooping in, always playing the heroic big sisters, making sure you don't get your hands dirty. Pathetic, really. I mean, Talia struts around like she's some perfect prodigy, but without her clever tricks, she's just another overconfident brat. And Elara—always teasing, always hovering, making everyone laugh so you look good by comparison. They can't do anything without propping you up. And you? You wouldn't last a day without them."
She leaned in closer, voice dripping with venom. "Tell me, princess, how does it feel knowing the best thing about you is the family that carries you? That even your idiot sisters don't think you can survive on your own?"
Anna's chest heaved. The buzz in her body flared hotter, brighter. A spark in her stomach ignited and shot through her limbs. Her eyes glowed—just for a split second, just enough to turn the air brittle—and then she moved.
With a roar that ripped from her throat, raw and jagged, she slammed her hands forward into Tanya.
"I said—SHUT UP!!"
The force burst from her, sudden and explosive, echoing across the training grounds. Tanya barely had time to register the change before she was lifted off her feet, a visible shockwave pushing through her body.
She sailed backward twenty feet, arms flailing, hair whipping, before she crashed against the stone paving and skidded across the ground. Dust kicked up in her wake, and the other trainees froze, jaws slack, eyes wide.
Anna's chest heaved. Her hands trembled, tingling from the aftershock. Her eyes returned to normal, but the echo of her yell lingered in the air, vibrating against the obsidian walls of the Circle grounds.
Silence fell, broken only by Tanya's groan as she sat up, coughing, glaring at Anna with a mixture of fear and fury. The other cadets hadn't moved, too stunned to intervene, watching the princess—magicless or not—stand, trembling but unbroken, in the center of the courtyard.
Tanya's eyes blazed with fury, her breath ragged. A streak of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she spat it out, smearing it against her chin, and let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"That's the spirit, princess," she said, her voice low and dangerous, laced with both challenge and admiration. "Finally some backbone. Let's see what you've got."
Anna's pulse thudded in her ears. She could feel the heat radiating off Tanya, could sense the tension in every taut muscle.
Then Tanya's hands ignited. Flames roared to life, coiling around her palms like living serpents. The air shimmered with heat and the acrid scent of fire, and every cadet on the training grounds instinctively took a half-step back.
Anna's eyes widened. The raw power in front of her was undeniable. But the glow in her own chest—the lingering spark from moments ago—still hummed, faint but insistent.
Tanya leaned slightly forward, flames crackling with each flex of her fingers. "Come on, princess. Show me what you're really made of."
Anna's teeth clenched, her chest heaving as adrenaline and something sharper—anger, defiance, something she didn't quite recognize—coursed through her veins.
Charge.
The word wasn't hers, and yet it felt like it came from somewhere deep inside her, instinctual and commanding. Her feet moved before her mind fully caught up, muscles tightening, heart hammering in rhythm with the surge of guidance that flowed beneath the surface.
Left. Right. Evade.
She pivoted just as Tanya lunged, fire arcing toward her in a lethal sweep. Anna's body twisted, sliding past the flames with a grace she didn't know she possessed, the inner whisper—the guide—flowing through every step, every dodge, every counter.
She struck back—not with magic, not with a weapon, but with precise, disciplined movement: a shove here, a sweep there, an elbow to keep distance, a step forward to force Tanya back.
The courtyard held its breath.
Cadets froze mid-motion, jaws dropping. A first-year—a first-year!—was moving with the fluidity and timing of someone trained far beyond her years, going toe to toe with a third-year who had flames dancing around her palms.
Tanya's eyes widened as Anna's strikes began to anticipate her, evade the fire, and press the offense without hesitation. The inner guide pulsed with each movement, almost whispering commands, feeding Anna instinctively toward openings, nudging her body in perfect sync with her rage and resolve.
The shock on the faces of the other cadets was palpable. Some muttered under their breath. Others simply stared, stunned, as the magicless—or supposedly magicless—princess danced around a seasoned fire mage, not with spells, but with a force that felt alive, precise, and terrifying.
Anna didn't even notice the awe. She only felt the surge of power, the wordless guidance, the way her body seemed to know exactly what to do, and the anger that roared in her chest, sharpened like a blade.
She wasn't just defending herself. She was proving something. To Tanya. To herself. To anyone who had ever doubted her.
The inner voice pulsed again, insistent, commanding. Attack.
Anna felt it like a drumbeat in her chest. Her body responded instantly. She lunged forward, feet pounding the stone, weaving past Tanya's flames with an almost uncanny precision. Tanya stumbled, thrown off balance by the speed and ferocity of Anna's approach.
Without thinking, Anna leapt, her fist coiling back and then driving forward with every ounce of strength and guidance she didn't realize she possessed. The punch heading straight toward Tanya's chest.
Tanya threw her arms up, trying to block, but the impact was more than she anticipated. The sheer force of Anna's blow reverberated through her arms, sending a concussive shockwave outward. The aftershock slammed into Tanya like a second invisible punch, hurling her backward across the courtyard.
She hit the ground hard, sliding several feet, fire sputtering out from her hands as she struggled to regain footing. Dust and grit swirled around her, but Anna's glare never wavered.
The other cadets were frozen in astonishment. A first-year—a first-year—had not only held her ground against a third-year fire mage, she had sent her sprawling across the training grounds with the sheer physicality of a strike they hadn't thought possible.
Anna landed lightly on her feet, fists clenched, chest still heaving. The inner guide hummed faintly, almost approving, and for the first time, she realized the power coursing through her wasn't just anger—it was something else, something that moved with her, guided her, sharpened her.
Tanya scrambled to rise, eyes wide, lips curling in a mix of fury and disbelief. "Impossible…" she hissed, but Anna's eyes never left her, glowing faintly with the residual fire of her surge.
Anna walked forward, each step deliberate, slow—but heavy, like the ground itself was acknowledging her presence. Her chest heaved, and the residual energy of the surge radiated outward, a subtle but undeniable pressure that made some of the nearby cadets stagger back, gasping as if the air had suddenly thickened around them.
Tanya struggled to her knees, flames sputtering weakly in her hands, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury as she met Anna's gaze.
Anna's voice was low, a growl that vibrated with raw intensity. "You can say whatever you want about me," she said, each word cutting through the courtyard like stone, "but don't—don't you ever talk about my family."
The ground beneath Anna's boots cracked faintly with the force of her steps, thin lines spiderwebbing across the courtyard stone, each step punctuating her words. The pressure of her presence pressed on everyone nearby, leaving a tense, brittle hush in its wake.
She didn't raise her fists. She didn't have to. The weight of her anger, the surge of power still humming just beneath the surface, was enough to make even Tanya falter.
Anna's eyes burned, a quiet storm contained within her, and for a moment, the entire training ground seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what she would do next.
Two voices cut through the tense silence, sharp and filled with concern.
"Anna! Wait—don't!"