CHAPTER 10 - WHEN SILVER BURNS GOLD
1096 Words
The corridor was long and dim, the torches along the wall flickering with a restless orange hue. Belle walked beside Orion in stiff silence, her books clutched to her chest like armor. She couldn’t read him. His expression was unreadable, but his steps were confident, bordering arrogant, as if he owned every stone he stepped on.
"Are you going to say anything?" she asked finally, her voice tight.
Orion didn't look at her. "You talk enough for both of us."
She stiffened. "You dragged me out here."
He stopped abruptly, turning to face her. "Dragged? Lumi, you followed."
Belle opened her mouth, then shut it. He was right, but the way he said it — so dismissive, so cold — made her blood boil.
"Don’t call me that," she snapped.
"Why not? It suits you. You flicker like light, fragile but stubborn." He leaned in, his voice dropping into something rougher. "But lights like you go out fast. Unless someone keeps the fire burning."
She took a step back, but he matched it, crowding into her space. His tone was sharp, cruel, even when quiet. "You act like you don’t want the attention, but you keep looking for it. Flinching like a rabbit, but staring like a wolf. Which one are you really, Belle?"
"I never asked for any of this."
"No? Then why are you still here? Why didn’t you run back to your tower like the little trembling thing you pretend to be?"
Her throat closed. Her fingernails dug into her palm.
"Because I don’t want to run anymore."
Something flashed in Orion's eyes. Interest. Hunger. Frustration.
He took another step toward her. Her back hit the column behind her.
His hand lifted, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. Not gently. It was almost clinical, calculated. But the heat in his eyes betrayed something else entirely.
"Good. Then stop acting like prey."
She glared at him. "Is that what you want? A fight?"
He laughed, but it was low and dangerous. "No. I want you to burn."
She stared, breathless.
"I want to see what happens when someone like you stops holding back."
Belle swallowed the lump in her throat. "Why me?"
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned, beginning to walk again. "You’ll understand soon."
They walked in silence until they reached the fork in the corridor. He stopped and glanced down at her.
He stopped and glanced down at her, his expression half-shadowed by the torchlight. “You don’t need to understand everything now, Lumi. Just stay where I can see you.”
Then he walked off, leaving her heart hammering in her chest — from anger, confusion, and something more dangerous she didn’t dare name.
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Velmire buzzed. Whispers flew like arrows across the halls, ricocheting between students who’d just read the newest ranking posted outside the Grand Hall.
“Did you see it?”
“Top 1? But that’s—!”
“I thought he was Silver Tier?”
"Its been announce yesterday, are you guys not in the main square?"
Belle stepped into the hallway and was immediately greeted by the tail end of a hushed argument between two older students near the columns.
“It’s rigged. It has to be. No Silver Tier has ever reached Top 1 in Velmire’s history.”
“Maybe he earned it,” the other shot back. “Have you seen him fight? Orion practically destroys anyone he touches.”
“That’s not the point. There are rules. Tiers exist for a reason.”
Belle walked past them, heart skipping. More students were crowding the bulletin board now, craning their necks to confirm it with their own eyes.
And there it was, printed in gold letters on black velvet:
RANK 1: ORION LEONHART – SILVER TIER
A collective uproar ran down the corridor — half gasps of awe, half scoffs of disbelief.
Some students were clearly thrilled. Girls clutched their books to their chests, practically swooning.
“Well, if anyone could break the system, it’s Orion."
Others were less enthusiastic.
“This sets a bad precedent,” a boy sneered. “What’s next? Bronze Tiers ruling the academy?”
Belle edged through the crowd, pretending not to hear them. But part of her couldn’t stop the rush of warmth — an ache in her stomach that felt like nerves… or was it pride? No, that couldn’t be it.
Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd.
Orion had arrived.
He moved through the corridor like a blade through silk — smooth, quiet, and undeniably lethal. His uniform was unwrinkled, every movement precise. And though his expression remained unreadable, his presence was thunderous.
Then, as if the fates themselves wanted to ruin Belle’s day—
“Orion!” a sweet, high-pitched voice sang.
Clarisse.
Belle’s stepsister was leaning against a pillar, her skirt hitched a little too high, lips painted an unnatural pink. Her smile was honeyed poison.
“I knew you had it in you,” she purred, brushing invisible dust off his shoulder. “Top 1? Honestly, it suits you. You should celebrate.”
Orion stopped.
The crowd leaned in.
Clarisse batted her lashes. “I can think of a few… private ways we could.”
Laughter rippled from her little clique of followers. Belle rolled her eyes and started to walk away—
But Orion spoke.
“Oh?” he drawled. “What makes you think I’d celebrate with you?”
Clarisse blinked. “Well, I— I just thought—”
“You thought wrong.”
A stunned silence fell over everyone. Clarisse’s face reddened. She tried to recover.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” she simpered, still smiling tightly. “It’s not like you haven’t been looking.”
Orion’s smile was razor-thin. “I wasn’t looking at you. I was looking past you. It’s unfortunate you blocked the view.”
A chorus of gasps and barely-suppressed snorts of laughter followed. Clarisse’s jaw dropped, stunned into silence.
Orion didn’t wait for her to recover. His eyes flicked up — and there was Belle, frozen mid-step across the corridor.
Their eyes locked.
His smirk returned, slow and deliberate.
Then, with the faintest tilt of his head — like an unspoken message just for her — he walked away, leaving Clarisse fuming and the rest of the hall struggling not to burst into laughter.
Belle turned sharply and walked the other direction, heat crawling up her neck. She hated how part of her wanted to laugh. Hated more how her stomach fluttered at that smug smirk meant only for her.
- Writer
