Page 115 of Ashes to Ashes

Before I can ask what she means, she strikes.

Light explodes from her hands—brilliant, invasive, wrong in every way that matters. The magical assault slams into me like a freight train made of pure illumination, clawing at whatever’s been hiding my true nature.

Acid pours through my nervous system. Copper floods my mouth as capillaries burst under pressure. My vision fractures into geometric patterns that hurt to perceive directly, and mybones feel like they’re being hollowed out and refilled with molten metal.

The magic I’ve been suppressing surges upward, fighting against decades of binding with the fury of something that’s been caged its entire existence. Wildfire scorches through my vertebrae. I grit my teeth until enamel creaks, shoving it back down.

This was supposed to be MY choice. MY timeline. MY decision about when and how to reveal what I am.

But the power writhes under my control like a living thing with its own agenda, and Elena’s assault keeps coming. My skin burns where ancient magic tries to break free, clothing smoking at stress points.

“Stop,” I manage through gritted teeth, though I’m not sure if I’m talking to her or to the magic threatening to tear me apart from the inside.

Beneath the pain, something else surges with volcanic force.

Rage.

Not at being exposed—that was inevitable. But at having the choice stolen. At being attacked by students I’ve been teaching, protecting, training to be better than this. At magic used as a weapon against someone who showed them nothing but respect.

My hands clench into fists, knuckles white with strain. Stone fractures spread outward from my feet in spider web patterns. Several students stumble as the floor shifts beneath them.

Something deep in my chest snaps like a loaded spring released after decades of compression.

The thorns explode.

Lava replaces my blood as power tears through unprepared channels. This isn’t the gentle awakening from before—this is forced manifestation, royal magic ripping through a system that’s been suppressed for decades. My skeleton fractures underpressure as bones reshape to accommodate power they were never meant to hold.

Blood fills my mouth as capillaries burst throughout my system. Each thorn that erupts takes something from me—energy, life force, pieces of myself that I may never get back. But I don’t stop it. Can’t stop it.

The price of hiding what I am has become higher than the cost of revealing it.

First, small thorns pierce through my sleeves—tiny points of blue-green light that make students gasp and step backward. Then larger ones, spiraling up my arms in patterns that glow with their own internal fire.

The stone beneath my feet doesn’t just crack—it splits with the sound of breaking bones as roots burst upward like they’ve been waiting their whole lives for this moment. Massive vines erupt from Academy foundations, thick as tree trunks and armed with thorns the size of daggers.

Elena screams as her spell fractures against royal magic, feedback slamming her backward into the arena wall. Cassius stumbles, his perfect court composure cracking as he stares at power that shouldn’t exist.

And me? I stop fighting what I am.

Power flows through my marrow, reshaping me from within. Each vertebra aligns with sudden certainty, spine straightening into perfect royal posture that speaks of bloodlines and birthrights.

Stone continues cracking outward in concentric circles. Crystal fixtures throughout the arena blaze with sudden brilliance, responding to royal presence with recognition programmed into their very structure.

“Enough.”

The word hits with authority I didn’t know I possessed—the voice of Wild Court royalty, the bloodline every court spentcenturies hunting. It resonates from deep in my chest, vibrating through stone and crystal until the entire Academy rings like a struck bell.

Academy stones sing in harmonic response to power they remember from before the courts divided, when royal magic flowed freely through these halls. Ancient runes appear on walls, glowing with soft green light as they recognize legitimate royal presence.

Cassius drops to his knees mid-step, his body responding to royal command before his mind processes what’s happening. Elena’s spell gutters out completely, leaving her gasping against cracked stone. Even Darius takes an involuntary step back, shadows retreating from Wild magic that outranks his own court training.

Energy crackles through my bones like lightning given form, and for the first time since arriving at this place, I feel like myself.

Terrifying, world-ending, apparently my royal self.

Living vines continue emerging from Academy foundations, but they don’t stop at cosmetic changes. They lift—stone flowing like liquid as magic reshapes the very architecture to suit royal presence. The platform grows beneath my feet, raising me above the students with natural authority that makes several more drop to their knees.

“Wanted to see what I am?” The words make crystal fixtures throughout the building ring like struck bells. Half the students drop to their knees instinctively, recognizing something their magic knows even if their minds don’t. “Congratulations. Hope you’re fucking happy.”

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