From Shattered Prodigy to Abyssal Vengeance

Elara's eyes snapped open.

Cold air rushed into her lungs like crushed glass. She shot up from the mattress, coughing so violently her ribs ached. Her hands flew to her chest, her fingers digging frantically into the fabric of her nightgown.

There was no gaping hole. There was no blood.

She looked down. Beneath her pale skin, a pristine, ice-blue core pulsed with a steady, rhythmic glow. It was whole.

A heavy, metallic bell tolled from the corridor outside. The sound vibrated through the stone floor and shot straight up Elara's spine.

Her stomach dropped. The physical exam. Silas was coming.

The memory of her previous life hit her like a physical blow to the head. The sensation of Silas's hand plunging into her chest, tearing this exact blue core from her flesh to give to Seraphina, made her throat close up.

Panic threatened to paralyze her, but a cold, brutal survival instinct took over.

Elara brought her thumb to her mouth and bit down hard. The sharp tang of copper flooded her tongue. She dropped to her knees on the cold stone floor and began to draw.

Her bloody finger moved in frantic, jagged lines, sketching a forbidden reverse-sealing array.

As the first drop of blood hit the stone, the ancient silver bracelet on her left wrist grew scorching hot. It absorbed the stray droplet, the dull metal suddenly gleaming with a sinister, hungry light.

Elara didn't stop to think. She raised both of her blood-slicked hands and slammed them directly into the glowing blue aura of her own chest.

The pain was instantaneous and blinding.

It felt like a jagged knife twisting directly into her soul. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted fresh blood, refusing to let a single scream escape her lips.

Inside her chest, the reverse array did its work. The flawless ice core began to crack. The beautiful blue light fractured, swallowed by an encroaching, suffocating darkness.

Just as the core shattered into a million useless pieces, the silver bracelet erupted.

A violent surge of dark purple energy shot up her arm and slammed into her heart. The two extreme forces collided inside her veins. Her vision went completely black. Her ears rang. She slumped forward, her forehead hitting the stone floor as she fought to stay conscious.

Deep in her abdomen, the dark purple energy devoured the broken shards of ice. It twisted and compressed, forming a bottomless, black vortex.

The Primordial Chaos Core.

Elara forced her eyes open. She used the very last ounce of her mental strength to push the bracelet's cloaking barrier over the new core. To anyone looking, her magical pathways would appear completely dead. Ash.

Outside her window, the morning sky turned black. A sudden, unnatural thunderstorm cracked the air, the birth of her chaos core triggering the violent weather.

Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed at the end of the hall. The floorboards vibrated with high-level mana.

Silas.

Elara scrambled to her feet. She grabbed fistfuls of her own hair, yanking until her scalp burned, making herself look deranged. She swept her arm across her bedside table, sending a row of glass potion bottles crashing to the floor.

She dropped to her knees right in the center of the mess. She pressed her palms flat against the broken glass, letting the sharp edges slice deep into her skin. The fresh, heavy scent of her blood masked the lingering metallic smell of the array.

The heavy wooden door to her dorm room exploded inward.

Splinters rained down on Elara. She flinched, pulling her bleeding hands to her chest.

Silas Crowe stepped through the ruined doorway. He wore his signature dark gold robes. His sharp, predatory eyes scanned the room before locking onto Elara.

For a split second, raw greed flashed in his eyes, quickly followed by deep suspicion.

Elara scrambled backward, her bloody hands leaving smears on the floorboards. She kept her chin tucked, avoiding his suffocating gaze, forcing her body to tremble.

Silas didn't say a word. He raised a hand and fired a golden beam of detection magic straight into the center of Elara's forehead.

The magic felt like a thick, oily snake sliding under her skin. The chaos core inside her flared like a rabid beast, violently hungry to devour the invading energy. A searing, white-hot agony tore through her veins as the newborn power fought her control. Elara bit her lip until it bled, pouring every ounce of her mental fortitude into forcing a crude, desperate shackle over the chaotic mass. She choked back a scream, barely managing to force the chaos down, letting the disgusting golden light roam freely through her chest.

The bracelet's illusion held perfectly. It fed Silas the exact image he was looking for: a shattered, dead core. Ruined pathways.

Silas's face drained of color. The air in the room dropped ten degrees. Frost began to form on the edges of the broken glass.

He lunged forward, his large hand wrapping around Elara's throat. He lifted her entirely off the ground.

"What did you do?" he hissed, his breath smelling of mint and ozone.

Elara clawed at his wrist, her face turning a mottled purple as her airway collapsed.

"I... I pushed too hard," she choked out, letting fake tears spill over her cheeks. "I wanted to be stronger... the core... it backfired."

Silas stared at her. The greed in his eyes died, replaced by a disgust so profound it made his upper lip curl.

He threw her.

Elara slammed into the stone wall and crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. Her lungs burned.

"You are nothing but a worthless cripple now," Silas said, his voice devoid of any emotion. He smoothed the cuffs of his gold robes, a habit he always fell back on when asserting control. "You have stained the absolute glory of the High Tower."

Elara kept her head down. Beneath the curtain of her messy hair, a cold, triumphant smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth.

But when she looked up, her face was a mask of pure devastation. She clutched her chest and let out a loud, pathetic sob.

Silas turned his back on her, completely repulsed.

"Take this trash to the Judgment Hall," he ordered the two heavily armored guards waiting in the hallway. "She awaits the Academy's final verdict."