Page 22 of Fated for Flames

Without a moment’s hesitation, I rose from my seat, my mental defenses securely in place.

The old me would have never disrupted a class, let alone snorted loudly.

But my priorities had shifted…drastically.

Graduating and spending my days working in one of those ancient magical libraries used to be my dream. Being surrounded by books, immersing myself in tales of old and new magic—there was a certain tranquility to that life that had appealed to me.

That Evelyn, the quiet, introverted bookworm, was gone.

The new Evelyn wanted revenge.

My heart pounded in my chest as I turned to face Miss Clarissa. The woman who had been my torturer every single day for three months, the woman who’d taken part in the dark ritual that took everything from me. The woman who had stood by and watched as my magic was stripped while I burned at the stake.

I met her icy stare with a determination fueled by anger and an insatiable thirst for justice. My classmates faded into insignificance as my focus narrowed down to a single point: Miss Clarissa.

When she attempted to infiltrate my mind, she was met with my impenetrable barrier. Despite her efforts to breach my mental fortress, it remained intact. Her frustration was evident in her labored breathing and strained expression, while I smirked, triumphantly.

She kind of looked constipated, to be honest.

“You must allow me to perform my demonstration, Evelyn,” Miss Clarissa gritted through clenched teeth.

“I am,” I responded calmly. “I haven’t used any magic, I’m just waiting.”.

“Do you know what I want, Evelyn?” she asked, advancing on me.

“A bowel movement?”

Some students gasped, while others snickered.

“Compliance,” she spat. Irritated, Miss Clarissa commanded, “Remove your jacket and roll up your sleeve.”

My smirk widened. Deliberately slow, I shed the uniform jacket and rolled up my sleeve, revealing my arm ready for her retaliation.

She wasted no time, launching into a conjuring spell that sliced my arm open with a gruesome, gaping wound. Blood oozed out as students gasped in horror, but my gaze locked into hers with an unfazed expression. I knew all too well that she thrived on eliciting pain, and my lack of reaction was a silent defiance.

Miss Clarissa inflicted another gash, this one trailing the length of my arm. Still, I didn’t even budge.

“It tickles,” I mumbled.

Visibly red as her eyes threatened to escape their sockets, I was certain she was about to escalate further when a commanding voice halted her midaction.

“Professor Clarissa,” Professor Lucien barked from the doorway. “Torturing students is not our way in this institution!”

Miss Clarissa clenched her jaw and composed herself, the madness in her eyes dissipating as she faked a smile and turned her attention to the door. “Professor Lucien, what can I do for you?”

I nonchalantly grabbed my jacket and walked back to my desk amid the stunned silence of the other students.

“Aren’t you going to heal yourself?” one witch whispered to me.

I shrugged. “Not worth it. I’ll be healed in less than a minute.”

True to my word, by the time I had reached my desk, my skin was unmarred, drawing an impressed whisper from the goth witch sitting behind me.

“That was so badass,” she murmured.

“Thanks,” I replied with a casual nod as I watched the interaction between Miss Clarissa and Professor Lucien whispering next to the door.

What is Professor Lucien doing here? Are they friends? Was I wrong to trust him? Still, he seemed mad when he saw her hurt me. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

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