CHAPTER 5 : THE FIRST SPARK
1055 Words
The sun bore down on the academy grounds with a golden ferocity that made the walls shimmer faintly. Belle felt it in the air before anything else—the change in atmosphere, the way students whispered and giggled in corners. Something unusual was happening.
Her steps slowed as she rounded the corridor toward the guest wing, where the school occasionally welcomed nobles or visiting families. Lira had told her earlier that morning, face pale with concern, that the guest list had included the Vonders.
Belle's heart thudded painfully.
She stopped in front of the arched wooden doors of the guest room, fingers curling into her palms. When she finally pushed the door open, a cool draft hit her—but it was nothing compared to the chill that passed through her chest.
There they were.
Her father sat upright on the far end of the velvet couch, dressed in an elegant coat. Clarisse and Genevieve were already seated, both giggling over a box of imported chocolates they’d placed on the table. And next to her father, in an emerald dress too tight for modesty, was her stepmother—Celene.
“Belle,” her father said first, standing and offering a faint smile. “There you are.”
Clarisse barely glanced up. “Oh look, she actually showed up.”
Genevieve laughed, eyes rolling. “Did you not hear we brought gifts, Belle? But don’t worry, we saved you a piece. Or two. Maybe.”
On the table were two boxes—one brimming with expensive pastries and chocolates. The other, a small paper bag, sat far off to the side. Clearly hers.
Belle didn’t speak. Her eyes met her father's for a fleeting second, and something inside her trembled.
He looked older. Tired. But not cold.
“How have you been?” he asked, gesturing for her to sit. “Are you eating well? Do you need more allowance?”
Belle’s voice nearly caught in her throat. There was too much she wanted to say, and not enough strength to say it. So instead, she nodded and mumbled, “I’m fine.”
He sat back slowly, expression unreadable.
Celene looked up from inspecting her nails. “She always was quiet. Though I must say, I was surprised to hear you’re still attending Velmire. It’s not easy to keep up, is it?”
Belle kept her face blank. “I manage.”
After a few more hollow exchanges, she stood and gave a small bow. “Thank you for visiting.”
And then she turned and left—before anyone could see her blink away the sting in her eyes.
---
Later that day, she was sprawled on the floor of her room with Lira, who’d brought warm dumplings and a cup of cold milk tea.
“Saw the chocolate box,” Lira said with a sneer. “They gave you the sad paper bag one, didn’t they?”
Belle chuckled weakly, resting her chin on her arms. “It had dried fruit and one butter cookie.”
“I hope that cookie crumbles in their teeth.”
They both laughed.
Then silence.
After a while, Lira sat up. “I hate seeing you like that. Do you... ever wish your dad would see through them?”
Belle didn’t answer immediately. Then: “Sometimes. I don’t hate him. But I think… I’ve stopped hoping.”
Lira reached over, gently tugging her sleeve. “Well, if he doesn’t start acting like a father, you’ve got me. I can bake better cookies anyway.”
Belle smiled faintly.
---
The next day was PE day—a cursed part of the academy schedule Belle had never been fond of. While most students thrived during fitness tests and obstacle courses, Belle’s stamina was fragile, her chest often tightening and her arms shaking even after mild exertion.
She had submitted a health notice earlier in the semester, hoping for consideration.
But when they gathered at the field, Professor Amsel stood with his clipboard, frowning.
“Everyone will complete the full circuit. No excuses,” he barked.
Belle stepped forward cautiously. “Sir, I sent a letter weeks ago. My health—”
“You don’t look sick,” he interrupted, already turning away.
The warm-up began, and soon the students were doing laps under the midmorning sun.
Belle tried. She truly did.
But her legs trembled halfway through the second lap, her breathing uneven. She slowed, stumbled, and fell.
Laughter erupted from a few students at the back. Not all were cruel, but enough were heartless.
A shadow moved nearby.
Orion Leonhart stood a few meters away, arms crossed, watching quietly.
His expression was unreadable. Not mockery. Not pity.
But he didn’t step forward either.
Belle pressed her hands to the ground, forcing herself up as her heart pounded. Her chest burned, but she clenched her jaw.
Then, without a word, she continued.
"Belle Vonder run faster, it seems like your just strolling in the park!" Professor Amsel shout.
I could hear laughters. But i ignore it and continue to stabilize my breathing.
My vision was starting to blur.
I had made it through three laps. Three painful, dragging laps. My shirt clung to me back, my chest heaved, and my legs trembled with every step. But i kept going. Just a little more. I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t let them see me as weak again.
The sun was harsh, pressing down on me like a weight. My lungs felt like they were tightening, and my arms shook as if they could no longer hold me upright.
My foot slipped.
And then everything tilted.
The ground rushed toward me, and my body collapsed with a thud against the hard track. My ears rang. My limbs felt far away.
But i could still hear.
“Belle!”
Lira’s voice broke—panicked, high, trembling.
“She fainted—S-Someone help—”
There was a rush of footsteps.
Then another—heavier, faster, purposeful.
I didn’t see his face.
But i heard the way the gravel crunched sharply under someone’s boots. Felt the shift in the air. And in my haze, barely conscious, i heard a voice. Not loud. Not frantic. But commanding.
“Move.”
Then—darkness.
And a scent, fleeting and unfamiliar—like rain on metal.
- Writer
