Chapter 127: Trust and new friendship

The days after the earthquake and the rockfall blurred into a new rhythm for Lira. Her mornings were filled with regular lessons, afternoons with sparring or dragon observation, and evenings... evenings belonged to fire.

At first, it was only her and Patricia in the hidden training chamber, the air heavy with heat and the faint tang of smoke. Patricia’s sharp words and steady presence became a kind of anchor for Lira. No matter how tired, how shaken, Patricia pushed her forward. But soon, Maelin began to appear more often, slipping into the chamber with a bright grin and a spark in her eyes.

"If you two are going to keep playing with fire without me, I’ll die of boredom," Maelin declared one evening, hands on her hips as flames curled playfully around her fingertips. "Besides, I’m fire too. I can help."

Patricia looked her up and down, lips quirking in faint amusement. "Help, or get in the way?"

"Both," Maelin said with a cheeky grin.

Lira laughed, the tension in her chest easing. "She’ll get in the way... but in the best way possible."

And so, it became three of them.

Their training sessions grew louder, filled with bursts of fire, the clash of elements, and laughter. Patricia still carried herself with discipline — standing tall, correcting their stances, reminding them not to flinch when the fire roared too close. But with Maelin around, there was more warmth, more joy. She teased Lira when her vines accidentally tangled with flames, and sometimes even dared to poke fun at Patricia’s stern composure.

"Careful, Fire General," Maelin would joke. "One day you’ll smile too much and your horns will crack."

Patricia would roll her eyes, but the corner of her mouth would twitch just enough for Lira to see she was fighting a smile.

Outside the chamber, their bond deepened even more. In the dining hall, the three sat together, their laughter a contrast to the weight of the academy’s discipline. During lessons, they exchanged glances when the teachers weren’t looking, small sparks of mischief and loyalty. Even walking across the academy grounds, their trio became familiar to others, whispered about, sometimes even admired.

Patricia, always calm and commanding, walked at the center like a quiet protector. Lira, still a little uncertain but growing steadier, matched her steps, eyes often drawn toward the horizon as if searching for something greater. And Maelin bounced between them, chatter flowing like a river, pulling them both into the brightness of her energy.

Their bond was forged in fire, sometimes chaotic, sometimes disciplined, sometimes playful. But together, they were stronger.

One evening, as the three of them sat on the academy’s outer wall, watching the sun bleed red and gold across the sky, Lira found herself speaking the thought she had carried silently for days.

"I don’t know how I’d do this without you two," she said softly. "The fire... it scares me sometimes. But with you here... it feels less like a curse."

Patricia glanced at her, eyes steady, voice low but certain. "It’s not a curse. It’s power. And we’ll make sure you learn to wield it."

Maelin leaned over and bumped Lira’s shoulder with her own. "And if you mess up, don’t worry. I’ll just stomp out your flames with my boots."

Lira laughed, warmth blooming in her chest. For the first time since discovering her new element, she felt safe. Not because fire was tamed, it wasn’t. But because she wasn’t facing it alone anymore.

The following weeks wove themselves into a rhythm that no one had expected. At first, it had been a coincidence, Lira, Patricia, and Maelin meeting in lessons, drifting to the same dining table, or lingering together during free time. But soon, it became clear to everyone: the three of them were nearly inseparable.

In the mornings, they sat shoulder to shoulder in the lecture halls, often in the same row, their notebooks spread out across the long desks. Lira would carefully copy diagrams, Maelin would doodle little flames in the margins, and Patricia... Patricia’s neat, orderly script stood as a contrast to both. More than once, she reached across Lira’s notes, adjusting her hand posture with a sharp, "You’ll cramp your wrist if you keep holding the quill like that."

Lira blushed each time, but she listened. And when Maelin leaned over to tease, whispering, "Careful, Lira, soon she’ll be teaching you how to breathe," Patricia only sighed and rolled her eyes, but the faintest smile always tugged at her lips.

By midday, the trio moved together across the academy courtyards. They ate together in the dining halls, Maelin talking fast and gesturing wildly with her fork, sometimes making little sparks fly when her excitement got the better of her. Lira usually listened more quietly, but her laughter came easily when she was with them. Patricia, reserved as ever, let the other two chatter, but her presence was grounding, like a steady flame that never wavered.

In training sessions, they were a sight to see. Maelin’s fire was fierce and playful, sometimes too wild, sometimes too bright. Patricia’s fire was precise, sharp, and disciplined, each strike calculated, each burst controlled. And then there was Lira, still learning, still stumbling with her vines wrapping and snapping across the ground, fire slipping out in sudden, powerful bursts when her emotions surged too high. Together, though, their differences created something remarkable.

"Three Flames," some students started calling them in whispers. Others, with a touch of awe or jealousy, simply said, "The Trio."

It wasn’t just their power that drew attention, it was their bond. While other students often squabbled, competed, or formed cliques that shifted with the days, Lira, Patricia, and Maelin held firm to each other. They trained together, ate together, and when the day’s lessons ended, they were often seen wandering the academy halls, exploring hidden corners, or slipping into the outer courtyards to sit on the walls and watch the skies.

Sometimes, they even attracted small crowds. A group of first-years would linger nearby, pretending to be busy while listening to Patricia’s strict advice about fire control, or giggling at Maelin’s endless jokes. Lira noticed the looks, the admiration, the whispers. At first, it embarrassed her. She had never thought of herself as someone to be admired. But with Patricia and Maelin at her side, she began to carry herself taller, less afraid of being seen.

One evening, as the three of them sat by the fountain in the central courtyard, Patricia leaned back, arms crossed, her expression thoughtful.

"They’re watching us again," she muttered, her eyes flicking toward a cluster of younger students pretending to study on the steps.

Maelin grinned. "Of course they are. We’re the most interesting people here."

Lira shook her head, laughing. "You mean you’re the loudest."

"Loud, powerful, beautiful, it all comes together," Maelin said with a wink, making Patricia roll her eyes so hard that Lira had to stifle a laugh.

But even in those lighthearted moments, there was a deeper bond forming. Patricia became more than just a mentor; she became someone Lira trusted without question. Her presence gave Lira confidence she hadn’t known she had. Maelin, with her warmth and relentless energy, reminded Lira of joy, of playfulness, of not letting fear consume her.

Together, they were balance and discipline, warmth, and steady growth, each holding up the others where they faltered.

And everyone saw it. Teachers began to comment on how well they worked together during group training. Other students either admired them or envied them, but no one could deny their strength as a trio.

One night, as they returned from the hidden training chamber, sweat clinging to their skin and laughter still lingering on their lips, Maelin suddenly stopped in the hallway.

"You know," she said, her voice softer than usual, "I think this... us... it’s the best thing that’s happened to me here."

Patricia raised a brow, her voice calm but firm. "Don’t get sentimental."

But Lira smiled, her chest tight with a warmth she didn’t want to ignore. "She’s right. I don’t know what I’d do without you two."

The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. Whatever challenges came , whether whispers, dangers, or the mysteries surrounding Lira’s powers, they would face them together.

From the following weeks on, the three of them became almost inseparable.

Patricia naturally assumed a role of leadership among them—not by force, but by the way her voice carried calm certainty. She would stand firm, her arms folded, watching as Lira’s flames spiraled out too wildly, then step in with precise guidance.

"Not so wide. Fire is greedy—it will eat everything if you let it. Narrow it. Think of it like water flowing through a crack."

Her tone was sharp, almost commanding, yet never cruel.

Maelin, by contrast, was all energy—bright, eager, and impatient. She often cheered before Lira even finished her move, bouncing around with sparks crackling around her fingertips.

"You see? She’s improving every time! I told you she would!"

She was the heart, full of excitement and encouragement, though she often needed Patricia to rein her in.

Lira found herself between them, learning from Patricia’s discipline while soaking in Maelin’s warmth. At first, she felt intimidated by Patricia’s strong demeanor, but the dragoshifter had a way of softening unexpectedly—sometimes when the firelight flickered in her eyes, sometimes when her hand landed steady on Lira’s shoulder after a failed attempt. That quiet assurance meant more to Lira than words could express.

They trained until their hands blistered and their voices turned hoarse from laughter. Sometimes they collapsed together on the grass outside the training grounds, Maelin lying flat on her back, Patricia sitting cross-legged with her cloak over her knees, and Lira in the middle, staring up at drifting clouds. They spoke of small things then—what they missed from their homes, what foods they craved, and what dreams they carried.

"I want to be strong enough," Maelin once said, twirling sparks in the air, "that nobody ever has to protect me again. I’ll protect them instead."

Patricia smirked faintly. "Bold words, fire spark. Let’s see if you can last an hour without whining about your arms being sore."

Lira laughed until her stomach hurt, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with fire.

Nights often found them sneaking into the library together, hunting for old scrolls on elemental control, whispering as though every shadow was listening. Patricia had a sharp eye for forgotten passages, Maelin for wild theories, and Lira for connecting the fragments into something usable. What one lacked, another supplied.

When mornings came, their bond showed not just in training but in the smallest gestures, Patricia flicking crumbs from Maelin’s cloak without comment, Maelin saving an extra roll from breakfast for Lira, Lira mending a torn strap on Patricia’s satchel without being asked. It was in the laughter, in the arguments, in the way they watched each other’s backs during sparring matches.

For Lira, who had once felt the academy’s walls closing in on her, their friendship became a kind of lifeline. With them, she was not the girl whispered about for her dangerous power. She was simply Lira, their friend, their equal.