Chapter Three: The Weight of Fire

Chapter 3 The Weight of Fire

The chamber still smelled faintly of chlorine.

I stood at the edge of the demonstration circle, letting my eyes drift across the stone. The pedestal had been cleaned, but not well. Residue clung to the grain, a thin film from House Nirell's failed synthesis. Aluminum, with a hint of chlorine. Faint. But not gone.

That wasn't an accident.

Nirell didn't fail. They left something behind. Two objectives, one move. Very much like them.

I breathed in slowly, steadying the pulse in my gauntlet. The Auris crystal responded, humming in low sympathy. I could feel the ambient trace elements already reacting, tugging at the edge of my control. Familiar, but not mine.

Vaelen.

He had chosen aluminum and chlorine for a reason. Not just to show a compound attempt, but to plant excess material in the air. Residual matter I could draw on. Subtle. Controlled. No one would suspect a thing if I tapped into it. Just a clean flame, powered by a room no one thought to sweep properly.

It wouldn't fix my tally. But it would mask the imbalance. I'd slip the excess cohesive particles into the magnesium. Enough to keep the structure from overloading. So I thought about it, and the aluminum and chlorine would absorb the particles efficiently. The result? A synthesis too stable for its written densities, but not enough to raise alarms, or so I believed.

Clever.

Not a favor. A message.

I scanned the seats again. Vaelen sat still behind his House's row, fingers steeped, expression unreadable. He didn't look at me. He didn't have to.

He knows what the catalysts can do, or at least suspects it. And instead of exposing me, he's giving me cover.

Why?

Because he wants something. Not my failure. I wonder what. I'd know soon enough.

The scribe raised a hand. "House Dravoryn. Prepare your catalyst."

The chamber stilled as I readied myself.

My boots echoed once on the stone, then fell silent. I reached into my coat, withdrew the catalyst I had prepared, and held it up for the Court to see. A simple sliver of pale-streaked metal, polished and quiet. Balanced on paper.

But the paper lies.

The Auris crystal in my gauntlet glowed slightly, readying for the show. I could feel the weight of the tallies under the stone; the falsified cohesive particle densities felt heavy, like they wanted to escape. I had done everything I could to get here.

Now I just have to survive it.

My eyes flicked once across the circle. The heads and mages of the Great Houses watched in silence. Lady Aeris of Caelisorn sat poised, brows faintly raised. Lord Marrek of Theryn remained unreadable, his niece's gaze flicking toward my gauntlet just once. And Vaelen...

Still no reaction. Just folded hands, and that same faint slouch of someone pretending not to care.

I closed my eyes and pulled in a slow breath.

The synthesis began.

Magnesium came first, fast, familiar. A simple call, aligned with the tallies. Easy to justify. I drew the elements together in the shape of a flame. Then, beneath the surface, I reached sideways.

The traces lingered. Aluminum. Chlorine. Bits of them floating in the air like dust.

I gathered them gently like brushing ash from parchment.

The trick wasn't ignition. It was shaping the cohesive particles' flow, slipping it into the existing reaction without pushing the containment field too far. The added particles softened the volatility of my base structure, diffusing energy just enough to keep the flame still.

Then I forced the ignition curve upward, higher than magnesium should allow.

The flame twisted. White at the center, rimmed in faint silver. Too bright. Too stable.

Perfect.

Let's see how the Court reacts to this.

The flame held, not flickering, not wavering. Just a steady spiral of white threaded silver, burning in unnatural stillness.

A few mages shifted in their seats. Small movements from around the room. Not fear. Not yet. But attention sharpened.

House Caelisorn's mage tilted her head slightly, lips parted like she was about to speak, then didn't. Instead, she leaned in, watching the curve of the flame's edge. Measuring it against what she thought she knew.

Theryn's representative had stilled completely. Serel's eyes locked on the base of the structure, not the flame itself. Smart. That's where the real data was. That's where the lies started.

Lord Marrek's fingers tapped once on his chair's arm, then stopped.

So, too stable after all.

Let them puzzle over it. Let them believe I'm something they can't afford to lose.

I adjusted the cohesive particle field subtly, bending the synthesis just enough to catch a sliver of reflected light from the stone, letting them see the control. Let them try to place it.

The silver edges curled inward, just slightly, forming a coil of clean energy suspended in impossible harmony.

The flame pulsed once, not dangerously, just visibly.

That was enough.

One of the court scribes leaned forward, brow furrowed. A second took down three tallies in quick succession, eyes darting between me and the crystal base. They weren't prepared for this level of stillness. Not from me. Not from anyone.

I shaped one final loop, drawing the reaction closed with a spiral fold, and collapsed it inward, not burnt, not scattered. Just gone.

And the particles dispersed.

Someone in the back let out a quiet breath, the kind you don't realize you're holding.

I stepped away from the pedestal without a word.

They didn't clap. They wouldn't. This is not the place for that, even if a few almost did.

The silence was no longer dismissive.

It was diagnostic.

Every head turned slightly, calculating.

I gave them no answers.

Just the memory of something flawless.

I began to walk toward my seat, heart steady, but the room behind me felt heavier than before.

Father's face was flushed deep red. Not from embarrassment. Fury. Jaw locked, nostrils flared. I knew that look. He hadn't expected brilliance, he'd expected control. A quiet pass, a show of loyalty. A useful failure, maybe. Just enough to prove House Dravoryn was still functional, but nothing to draw eyes.

Instead, I'd lit a beacon.

He had planned to offer me up like a fresh scapegoat to the court.

Too bad I rewrote the script.

Then

"What was that?"

The voice cracked like thunder.

Lord Alric Caelthorn had risen from his seat, gloves clenched, his burn-scarred knuckles twitching against the edge of the railing. His stare bore through me like I'd just insulted his command on the battlefield.

I stopped.

Turned slowly.

"What do you mean, Lord Caelthorn?" I kept my tone even. Courteous, technically. Just enough not to be dragged for insolence.

He stepped forward. "You forged those figures. No reaction should hold that clean, not from your house. Not from any house."

A few heads turned toward him. They were watching now for different reasons. Not to see if I failed. To see if he was about to.

"My tallies were submitted through proper channels," I said, still not blinking. "Perhaps yours were simply... safer."

Rylan Caelthorn stood then, as if pulled by the tension between us. He didn't speak. Not yet. But he knew he had to get involved before…

Alric barked a short, bitter laugh. "So you think this was clean work? You think that was stability? No. That was manipulation."

My fingers flexed. "You're welcome to examine the remains of the field."

"Oh, I plan to."

Silence followed, but not empty silence. The kind that clings to air just before something breaks.

Rylan stepped down into the ring. Slow. Controlled. Posture squared. No theatrics.

"If it's a test you want, my lord, why not let us compare results properly?"

Straight challenge. No ceremony. No drawn-out accusation. Smart, he thinks he can beat me and keep Alric in check.

I looked at the scribe. "Am I permitted?"

The scribe hesitated, eyes flicking between the heads of the Houses.

Then Lord Marrek Theryn spoke for the first time. "Let the duel decide."

Of course. I would never pass up a duel. Especially one that might hurt a rival house.

The scribe gave a terse nod.

I turned, walking calmly back toward the center. The pedestal was still warm.

Rylan met me halfway.

I could already feel the gauntlet tightening around my hand. It was like that day five years ago, but I will not let the flame consume me this time.

As we faced each other, the murmurs faded.

Only the quiet remained.

I stood still, gauntlet flexing faintly, and looked across the ring at Rylan Caelthorn. He held himself like a blade, straight-backed, sharpened by years of military drills and Command. Nothing wasted. No room for doubt in his posture. His face was composed, unreadable. But the tension behind his eyes gave him away.

Not anger at me.

At what I represented. A break in the script. A problem he hadn't planned for. One he now had to solve.

I could feel the pressure of the Court behind me. The weight of a hundred years of tradition, alliances, and silent expectations. My father had wanted me to disappear quietly, to take my shame and fade into memory, but I would never do that. Instead, I had shown the Court something none of them expected, not perfection, but control. A kind of danger wrapped in elegance.

And now they didn't know what to make of me.

Neither did I.

The Auris crystal in my gauntlet pulsed once. Like it, I was charged. Not with power. With a decision. My decision, one I have not had the privilege of having until now.

Rylan finally spoke, voice low and firm. "That wasn't controlled. That was recklessness, you dressed up with polish."

I raised an eyebrow. "You think I got lucky?" It looks like he is trying to disarm my reputation first. Little does he know he is feeding into it.

"I think you gambled the Court's safety for a moment of pride."

That almost made me smile. "And what is this, Rylan? Duty? Or pride with a badge?"

His jaw flexed.

I took a slow breath and let my voice soften, just slightly. "You want a fight. Fine. But know this, I didn't come here to challenge you." No change, just pure focus on seeing what I will do.

"No," he said. "You came here to draw eyes. I'm just making sure they stay long enough to see you fall."

"I'm ready when you are," I braced myself.

He put his Catalyst in his gauntlet, readying his mind, and so did I. I began to feel the particles around me preparing my mind, like staring too long into the abyss and feeling it stare back through the weave of the particles.

The scribe raised his hand. "Demonstration parameters?"

Rylan spoke first. "Control. Duration. Reactivity."

I nodded. "Agreed."

Then swung it down and yelled, "Begin."

I had already decided which particles to reform. The moment the scribe dropped his hand, I forced them through the gauntlet. A surge like cold water flooded my veins, sharp and relentless. Hydrogen ignited instantly. A blue fireball flared with a sharp pop, trailing smoke that stung my eyes as it tore forward.

Rylan's carbon shield snapped up, a brittle lattice like scorched glass, scattering my fireball's blue flame in a burst that casts him as a knight wreathed in blue flames. The shield began to shatter with a brittle crunch as it started to glow orange.

He'd built it too fast. It couldn't take another hit. With a short grunt, he threw it aside. It clanged against the stone beside him, fractured and useless. That was the cost of speed.

Next was his counterattack. Unsurprisingly, it was also a blue flame. Weaker than mine, but still nothing I wanted to take head-on. He flung it fast and wide, forcing me to respond on instinct.

I stripped the air bare, the gauntlet humming cold and low, forming a silent void, pure absence. Rylan's flame vanishes with a faint hiss, smoke curling around the void's edges.

I saw the surprise on his face. That moment of hesitation was enough. With the hours of practice, I'd gotten extremely fast at making a stable magnesium, and I finished shaping the flame, launched it toward him with a hiss and crackle.

He reacted fast.

He had already begun manifesting a silicon web; it shimmered with frost, its threads cold as winter's breath. My flame strikes with a sharp crack, red veins glowing through the lattice as frost flashes to steam, warping the web's edges. But instead of igniting, the web drank the heat.

Then it began to glow, red veins spreading through the silicon as the web buckled, edges warping.

He stepped back from the collapsing mesh, panting. But he was still standing.

I was starting to lose focus when I saw it, another blue flame forming in Rylan's hand. He was going to strike again.

I shaped one to match. But mine was different. Paler. Denser. The same flame that had exiled me. I had learned to control it since then, but it still scared me. It always would.

He fired first. A dual-flame spread, one to my left, one to my right, arcing inward. A pincer strike.

He thought he'd found a weakness in my void. Let's see.

I fired my flame directly at his flame, but it was not just hydrogen. It was Deuterium, and it was Heavier, Hotter, and Hungrier than his flame. It collided, devouring the weaker fire and pressing forward.

At the same time, I created a void to my right. His remaining flame vanished into it with a soft hiss, like breath drawn away.

But my flame kept going.

He panicked. Another carbon shield snapped into place, rushed, brittle.

It didn't matter.

The deuterium tore through it like a blade through parchment. His cry of pain cut through the chamber as the flame struck his chest. Even his flame-resistant armor couldn't absorb all the heat.

I ran forward, forcing a void in the flame. I'd learned how to stop flames like this. Because I'd once failed to. I did not want him to suffer the same fate. And now he owes me. I'll need that.

The flame vanished just like all the other flames.

Rylan slumped, gasping. A medic moved quickly from the edge of the chamber, pressing an ice-pack to his burn, steam rising from the wound.

I collapsed to one knee, awake just barely. Heat still pulsed from my gauntlet, a burning reminder of what I'd unleashed. My chest heaved, the adrenaline flooding my mind in uneven waves. The sharp sting of memories clawed at the edges, but I pushed them down, barely.

Around me, the chamber was thick with tension. The court sat frozen, the usual murmurs silenced by shock. I saw faces I'd known since childhood. Nobles, mages, heirs. All locked in place, eyes wide, breaths caught between wonder and fear.

Father's face was a deep red, veins pulsing at his temples. His eyes burned with a mix of anger and something like disbelief. Arren stood rigid, like he was in shock.

Lady Aeris of Caelisorn leaned forward slightly, lips pressed into a thin line. She wore the calm mask of control, but I could see the flicker of calculation behind her eyes. Lord Marrek of Theryn stared hard, his lips pursed, the faintest crease between his brows. His niece Sira sat straighter than usual, her gaze sharp and unreadable.

And then there was Vaelen. He remained seated, his expression unreadable beneath the soft shadows. His eyes gleamed with something I couldn't yet place. A plan was in motion. A silent calculation.

The silence stretched. Every breath and every heartbeat seemed magnified. I felt every eye on me. Some watched with fear. Others with curiosity. Many with judgment.

Then I spoke, with what little strength I had left.

"Is there still doubt in your mind that this catalyst is dangerous?"

No one disagreed.

Or so I thought. But then one of the court mages behind me spoke up. Perfect.