The hidden crown.

Chapter Five: The Rivalry

The next week at Sasha’s studio felt like stepping into a pressure cooker. Lights were brighter, music louder, deadlines tighter. Every model rehearsed as if their lives depended on it. And maybe, in a way, they did.

Zara arrived early each morning, determined to perfect every turn. But no matter how early she came, Genellia was already there — sprawled on a velvet chair with her phone in hand, her laughter sharp as glass.

“Look who’s here,” Genellia drawled when Zara walked past. “Cinderella before the ball.”

Zara ignored her and headed straight for the mirrors. Focus on your walk, not her voice, she told herself.

But Genellia’s reflection loomed just behind hers, like a thorn in a bouquet. She was Sasha’s favourite for years, tall and icy with a practiced smile. She didn’t like competition.

“Lili says you’ve got… potential,” Genellia said, rising gracefully to her feet. “But potential doesn’t win shows. Experience does.”

“I’m just here to do my best,” Zara replied, keeping her tone calm.

“That’s adorable,” Genellia said, brushing imaginary dust off her designer jacket. “But people like you don’t last long in this world.”

Before Zara could respond, Lili strode into the hall. “Positions!” she barked. “We start in two minutes. No mistakes.”

The music thundered on. Zara walked, pivoted, walked again. Her heels clicked like a drumbeat. Yet under the surface she could feel the energy again — that strange, tingling current that made the lights shiver.

At the edge of the runway, Zyan Roy watched with his usual unreadable expression. Today his suit was charcoal grey, his hair tousled as if he’d just stepped out of a storm. His eyes followed Zara’s every move.

Genellia’s lips curled as she noticed. She slipped ahead of Zara in the line-up, blocking her path at the turn. The music swelled. Zara stumbled a fraction to avoid collision.

“Watch your step,” Genellia hissed under her breath, smiling sweetly at the photographers.

Lili’s eyes narrowed. “Again. From the top!”

Zara returned to her mark, pulse hammering. She’s doing it on purpose.

The second run was worse. Just as Zara reached the end of the runway, one of the lights above flickered and a screw clattered to the floor. Genellia smirked and “accidentally” brushed against Zara’s shoulder, sending her off balance.

Gasps rippled through the assistants.

But instead of falling, Zara caught herself mid-step. A strange heat shot through her veins, like sunlight under her skin. She straightened, lifted her chin, and finished her turn with such grace that the room fell silent.

Zyan’s eyes flickered — the faintest sign of surprise.

Genellia’s smirk faltered.

Lili clapped once. “Better. Again.”

The rehearsal rolled on, but whispers began to spread. Someone had tampered with the lights. Someone had loosened a screw. No one said Genellia’s name, but everyone glanced her way.

After practice, Zara changed in the dressing room. Her hands still trembled from the rush. When she looked in the mirror, the glow above her reflection was stronger than ever — not just a crown now, but rays of light spreading outward like wings.

A voice behind her said softly, “That was impressive.”

She turned. Zyan Roy leaned against the doorframe, his phone forgotten in his pocket.

“I saw what she tried to do,” he said. “Most models would’ve face-planted. You didn’t.”

“I just… balanced myself,” Zara murmured.

He studied her. “No. You didn’t just balance. You recovered. There’s a difference.”

Zara bit her lip. “Do you believe in… strange things?”

Zyan’s brow arched. “Strange how?”

“Like… seeing things in mirrors. Feeling… power.”

He tilted his head. “More than you think.” He hesitated, then added, “This industry eats people alive, Zara. Don’t let them see you break. Ever.”

With that, he pushed off the frame and walked away, leaving her staring after him.

That evening, as the studio emptied, Genellia cornered Zara near the stairwell.

“Enjoy your moment,” she said, her tone honeyed and cold. “But remember — Sasha likes perfection. One mistake and you’re out.”

Zara met her gaze squarely. “Then I won’t make mistakes.”

Genellia’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see.” She brushed past, her perfume sharp in the air.

Zara pressed her palm to the wall, steadying herself. The warmth inside her wasn’t just adrenaline now. It was a pulse. A heartbeat.

When she finally stepped outside, the sky was a deep velvet blue. She walked to the bus stop, her heels clicking softly. For a moment she closed her eyes and let the city’s noise fade.

She could almost hear Selene’s voice: When the shadows come, remember — light isn’t something you wear. It’s something you are.

Zara opened her eyes. The streetlights flickered as she passed, brighter, steadier.

She smiled faintly. “I’m not afraid of you, Genellia,” she whispered. “And I’m not afraid of whatever’s coming.”

Above her, the first star of evening shone like a tiny crown in the sky.