-Asher-
I stayed in the shadows, as I always did when things like this happened. Whisperwind's courtyards stretched before me, sun-dappled and calm only in appearance. But I could feel the pulse of magic, the pull of chaos and light and fire weaving together, as if the very stones themselves had chosen a side.
I should have stepped forward. I should have… done something. But I didn't. Not yet. Not when Alexia was standing there, unmoving, unflinching, her silver energy coursing through the courtyard like a living thing.
Kaelith moved with precision, silver coils spinning from their fingertips toward her, but I didn't flinch. Finn was already there, flames dancing along his arms, claws flexing, the raw power barely restrained. Soren's shadows stretched outward, coiling around the edges of the courtyard like silent sentinels. Jasper's light glimmered gold against the silver assault, steady, protective. And Morgan Shade… Morgan was an immovable force, the authority of centuries embodied in her gestures and her words.
I stayed in the background because I knew Alexia could handle this. She had grown beyond what any of us had expected, beyond what I had ever imagined possible. Every pulse of her chaos, every shimmer of control and defiance, told me that. She didn't need me. And deep down, I knew she wouldn't want me stepping in—she'd never forgive me if my presence undermined her power, even slightly.
I swallowed hard and let the memories rise unbidden. The times I had failed her, the moments I had betrayed her trust, the glances I had stolen when I should have been loyal. Every misstep, every shadow of doubt I had cast over her, replayed like a silent drumbeat in my chest. And here she was, standing at the heart of the courtyard, weaving chaos and light together into something that even the school itself obeyed.
Whisperwind rose to her defense. Stones lifted, ivy twisted, lamps flared in pulse with her magic. Kaelith faltered, and I felt a twinge of awe so sharp it made my chest ache. Alexia didn't just survive; she asserted authority over the very air, the same walls, the very heartbeat of the place we had all taken for granted.
And I couldn't move.
Not because I was afraid. Not because I doubted her. But because I had learned something bitter and essential: the strongest shields, the most unbreakable forces, weren't built from power alone. They were built from trust, from loyalty, from people who chose to stand behind you. And I… had not chosen that path when it mattered most.
I clenched my fists at my sides. Watching her, I understood the weight of what she carried. The school, the students, Finn, Soren, Jasper, Morgan—everyone of them had placed themselves in that moment, shoulder to shoulder, because they believed in her. And I had once turned my back on that belief.
Her words rang out, clear and unwavering:
"You fear me because of what my magic can do. Because you think that what my father did defines me. But you're wrong. I am not my father. I am not the Council's rules. I am Alexia Mae Carter. And this is my home."
The words should have stung, a reminder of everything I had done wrong. And they did, but not in the way I expected. They didn't break me. They reminded me why I had stayed in the background, why I had let others fight for her, why I had watched instead of acting. I was still part of this, still part of her world—but not the part she needed now.
Kaelith faltered, retreated, and the courtyard breathed with triumph. Whisperwind pulsed, approving, alive, protective. Alexia's chest rose and fell steadily, her silver magic weaving in harmony with the world around her. And I felt something that I hadn't allowed myself to think in far too long: awe. Pure, unfiltered awe.
And guilt.
I had betrayed her once, and the memory clung to me, heavier than any chain. But seeing her here, standing without fear, claiming her space and her strength, I realized something else: she had grown beyond the limits of my perception. She didn't need my intervention, apologies, or attempts to control the outcomes. She didn't need me at all. And yet… I wanted to be there, always, even if only as a shadow at the edge, a silent witness to the impossible things she could do.
I let myself take a deep breath, letting the weight of my failures settle alongside the pride that I couldn't voice. She had proven, to Kaelith and to everyone who doubted her, that fear was useless against what she had forged. That magic alone did not define danger, did not define worth. She did. She had earned the right to stand tall, to show the world—and even the Council—that she would not be feared, she would be respected.
And I would remember that. Always.
I stayed at the edge of the courtyard a moment longer, watching her, letting the thrill of victory mingle with the bitter taste of my own betrayal. Then, finally, I retreated into the shadows, knowing my place, knowing the truth I had to carry: Alexia didn't need me. But I needed to see her triumph, to learn from it, never to repeat the mistakes that had cost her so much before.
She had shown them all. And I… I could only bear witness.