CHAPTER 18 : THE MONSTER BENEATH
1862 Words
Belle’s POV
The past few weeks felt like Velmire Royal Academy had been turned on its head.
The underground fights—they weren’t just rumors anymore. They were everywhere.
Whispers in the hallways. Secret exchanges under tables. Even professors looked the other way more often, as though some unspoken truce had taken over. The name of the champion was never said aloud, but everyone knew who it was now, unlike before that its a secret.
And still, no one said it.
No one dared.
But I knew.
Or at least, my gut told me. That night with Lira had burned itself into my memory—the eerie silence before the champion removed his hood, the roar that followed, and the distinct way he carried himself. The crowd never saw it, too drunk on blood and flame to notice anything but power.
But I saw it.
The tilt of his chin. The calm fury in the way he stood. The way my chest twisted, recognizing something no one else did.
Orion.
Its been weeks since our last confrontation, he hadn’t said a word to me since. Not that I’d given him a chance.
But I watched.
And I noticed.
He changed.
He was more volatile now.
Less cold, more... dangerous.
I saw it first in class, when a younger student accidentally bumped into him. Instead of brushing it off, Orion grabbed the boy by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The student stammered out apologies, his face pale, but Orion didn’t let go until a professor appeared at the end of the corridor.
Then he dropped the kid like he was nothing.
Walked away like nothing happened.
That was three days ago.
Two days ago, I caught sight of him outside the west wing—fist bloody, lip cut, standing over another boy who was coughing on the floor.
It wasn’t even a duel. Just a fight.
I’d seen violence before—I grew up around enough of it to recognize the signs. But this? This wasn’t the same Orion i knew, but who am i to tell i know him better. I just know him for months.
This Orion—this version of him—was coiled tension and fire.
Something had snapped.
And he didn’t seem interested in fixing it.
Rumors buzzed louder than ever.
I heard them between bites of stale bread in the dining hall. Heard them murmured behind bookcases in the library.
"He doesn't even use weapons sometimes. Just raw magic."
"Someone said he nearly crushed a guy's ribcage."
"He doesn't care who he fights. No mercy. No rules."
"He's not just undefeated. He's uncontrollable."
I tried to ignore it.
I told myself it didn’t matter.
That I didn’t care.
But it was getting harder.
Especially when I passed by him in the corridor one morning—his jaw clenched, his knuckles split again, a bruise darkening beneath one eye. He didn’t look at me.
But I looked at him.
And I hated what I saw.
Not just the violence. Not just the rumors.
I hated how familiar he still felt to me.
“You’re quiet again,” Lira said, her voice light but her eyes watchful as we walked across the field one afternoon.
I blinked. “Huh?”
She gave me a small smile, nudging my arm. “Don’t act clueless. You’ve been avoiding certain corridors. Taking the long way around the dorms. Skipping your kitchen shifts even when it’s your turn. And you flinch every time someone mentions underground matches.”
I looked down at my shoes. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”
Lira didn’t press, but I knew she didn’t believe me. Her silence was heavier than usual.
More people had started to follow Orion around. I mean people always drawn to him even before but now its different.
That was the strangest part.
Not just fans, but people who looked like they wanted to be near him. Like his darkness had gravity. And they were drawn in without resistance. Like moths to fire.
He walked through the academy like a king without a crown, and no one dared challenge him. The way people moved out of his path said everything.
His presence filled every room before he even spoke.
And he never smiled.
I saw him that evening from the balcony of the girls' dormitory. He was across the courtyard, surrounded by three upper-tier boys I didn’t recognize. One said something, and Orion turned—so fast, so sharp—and shoved him back with a burst of energy so fierce it cracked the ground beneath their feet.
No spell words. No hesitation.
Just raw magic.
I flinched.
He looked monstrous. Untouchable. Like a beast born of flame and ruin. Nothing like the boy who once leaned his head gently on my shoulder.
That was a dream.
This was reality.
And I hated it.
---
One afternoon, Lira and I were on our way to Professor Ashwin's class, walking across the main bridge that connected the eastern and western wings. The sun had barely started to dip, casting long shadows over the stone tiles, when we heard it.
Shouting.
Screams.
A crowd gathering fast near the edge of the training grounds.
Lira paused mid-step, grabbing my sleeve. “Do you hear that?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Something’s wrong.”
We exchanged a glance, then rushed forward, weaving through the flow of students being drawn to the noise like moths to a flame.
When we reached the edge of the gathering, I pushed past two taller boys and caught sight of the chaos unfolding in the middle of the circle.
And then I saw him.
Orion.
His coat was torn at the shoulder, darkened with dirt and blood. His knuckles dripped red. But it wasn’t his blood. No—he was standing over a boy on the ground, barely conscious, face already swollen and bruised.
A girl sobbed a few feet away, held tightly by two older students I recognized vaguely from the upper tiers. Her eyes were wild with panic.
“Let me go!” she screamed, struggling against their grip. “Please, let me go! Orion, please! You’re hurting him!”
The boy groaned from the ground, trying to crawl back, but he had no strength.
Orion didn’t even flinch.
His expression was blank. Cold. Like the person I once knew was no longer there.
He raised his fist again.
And I snapped.
“Orion!”
I burst through the line of students before anyone could stop me. My feet felt heavy. My chest was pounding. But I ran.
Ran to him.
And right as his arm was about to swing down again, I grabbed it.
“Stop it!” I shouted, my voice shaking.
He didn’t react immediately.
He just turned.
Slowly.
And when his eyes met mine—I froze.
They weren’t silver.
They were glowing with violent red, the edges darkened with black veins that twisted outward like smoke curling under his skin.
My breath hitched.
“O-Orion?” I whispered.
He stared.
He wasn’t there. Not really. Not mentally. He was lost in something—a storm so deep it swallowed the boy I knew whole.
Students began to step back. Some gasped. Others whispered. A few even looked ready to run.
But no professors came.
No one tried to stop him.
They were afraid.
All of them.
And suddenly—I was too.
But I couldn’t show it.
“Look at me,” I said again, softer now.
He blinked.
The fire in his eyes flickered.
His fist, still raised, trembled slightly.
“That’s enough,” I whispered, inching closer. “You don’t want to do this. Not like this.”
The boy on the ground whimpered, then rolled away, dragging himself toward the crying girl. She broke free from her captors and rushed to him.
Still, Orion didn’t move.
But he looked at me.
Really looked.
And something inside him cracked.
The rage began to drain from his face.
His arm dropped.
His breathing turned shallow.
“Come with me,” I said, more firmly this time.
His eyes searched mine—confused, dazed, like waking from a nightmare.
I lifted my hand slowly.
Placed it gently against his cheek.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away.
“Please,” I whispered. “Just follow me. Okay?”
He didn’t speak.
But he nodded.
I took his hand.
And we walked.
The crowd parted around us without a word.
The woods behind the academy were quiet as we entered, the sounds of chaos left behind. The trees closed around us, their branches arching overhead like shelter. I led him toward the clearing near the waterfall—a place I had escaped to many times when the world became too much.
He didn’t resist.
Didn’t speak.
Just followed.
Still trembling.
Still silent.
When we reached the clearing, I let go of his hand and pointed to a large trunk beneath one of the older trees.
“Sit,” I said gently.
He obeyed.
His posture was tense, his arms resting on his knees, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves.
I knelt in front of him, watching his face.
His eyes had dulled, but I could still see a faint glow lingering. But slowly his eyes is turning back to normal.
“Why did you do that?” I asked softly.
He didn’t answer at first.
His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His brow furrowed as if only now realizing what had happened.
He exhaled slowly, head tipping back against the tree bark.
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he muttered at last.
I frowned. “Orion—”
He tilted his head, looking at me fully now, his expression sharpening.
“Why do you care?” he said, voice low and edged. “You haven’t spoken to me in weeks. Thought you were done with me.”
I blinked “You know why i did that.”
He chuckled—a cold, humorless sound.
“Of course i did. You always walk away when things get messy, don’t you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not fair.”
“No? Then what do you call yourself after you confronted me hmm?” he snapped, his voice louder now. “I was going out of my mind. And you? Hiding. Like a coward.”
“I was scared,” I said, my voice trembling. “Not just of you. Of myself. Of what this..."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes locking on mine.
“Then stop pretending you don’t feel it,” he said, almost daring me. “Stop pretending you don’t care.”
I swallowed hard. “You think I care?”
“I know you do. That’s the problem.”
His words lingered in the air between us, heavy, unrelenting.
I sat back slightly, needing space.
He watched me, still coiled like a spring.
“You can hate me all you want,” he said finally. “But don’t lie to yourself.”
I looked down at our hands.
His had stopped shaking.
Mine hadn’t.
- Writer
