Ethan's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. Words refused to form. His mind was still stuck on the image of that massive fireball tearing toward him, seconds away from turning him to ash.
Ignatius's gaze snapped to Lucien once more, his eyes narrowing. "You nearly blasted this room apart, Mr. Ashford. And the bloodlust I sensed from you was nothing short of murderous. Care to explain?"
Lucien's jaw tightened. His gaze flickered to Ethan, then away, his expression twisted with a mess of guilt and frustration. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained.
"I... I lost control," Lucien admitted, his words forced out like they hurt to say. "I let my emotions get the best of me."
Ignatius's expression didn't change. If anything, his disappointment only deepened. "Lost control?" His voice was cold, scathing. "Control is the very thing that separates the powerful from the reckless. And you, Mr. Ashford, just displayed the sort of recklessness that would get most students expelled on the spot."
Lucien's fists trembled, his shoulders hunched like he was preparing to be struck down. Ethan could see it—how Lucien's pride warred with his own guilt, the conflict making his expression twist with shame.
The professor's gaze turned to Ethan, his expression unreadable. "And you, Mr. Wycliffe. Care to explain what exactly provoked this near-disaster?"
Ethan's heart almost stopped. Ignatius's stare was like a pair of knives pressed against his throat, and the weight of Lucien's burning glare beside him made his entire body feel like it was seconds away from crumbling.
He couldn't let things spiral out of control. If Ignatius punished Lucien too harshly, everything would go off the rails.
The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. "It was my fault!"
Both Ignatius and Lucien stared at him, twin expressions of confusion and disbelief. Ethan's chest tightened, but he forced himself to keep talking.
"I-I provoked him," Ethan stammered, his voice a mess of panic and desperation. "I said some... things I shouldn't have. And we were training. The fireball was an accident. It just... got out of hand."
Ignatius's gaze was like ice, dissecting him, searching for any hint of a lie. And Ethan knew how bad this looked. How pathetic his words sounded.
But if there was even a chance of diffusing the situation, he had to try.
Lucien's expression was unreadable, but Ethan could feel the guy's eyes boring into him, like he couldn't decide if he should be angry or just plain confused.
Ignatius let out a low, unimpressed sigh. "So, the arrogant young master is willing to take the fall for something that clearly wasn't his fault?"
The sarcasm in his voice was thick enough to choke on, but there was something else beneath it. Something almost like curiosity.
"I-I'm telling the truth," Ethan said, his voice trembling but stubbornly holding together. "I... pushed him too far. It was my fault."
Ignatius's lips twitched, though it was impossible to tell if it was amusement or disgust. "You're a terrible liar, Mr. Wycliffe. But I suppose I should give you credit for at least trying to be something other than a spoiled brat."
Ethan flinched. That was it, wasn't it? His reputation. Or rather, Darius's reputation. The arrogant, selfish jerk who treated everyone like they were beneath him. Of course Ignatius wouldn't believe he was actually trying to take the blame.
But Ignatius's attention shifted back to Lucien, his gaze hardening once again. "I felt your bloodlust, Mr. Ashford. That was no mere accident. Had I arrived a few seconds later, I would have been pulling a charred corpse from this room. You understand that, don't you?"
Lucien's face twisted with something like guilt, his gaze dropping to the floor. His shoulders were still tense, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
"Yes, sir," he said, his voice strained. "I understand."
Ignatius's eyes narrowed. "Good. Because if you can't learn to control yourself, you have no place here. Talent alone means nothing without discipline."
Lucien's lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. "Understood."
Ignatius studied them both for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. "I should report this incident to the Academy Board. What you just did was the height of stupidity and recklessness."
Ethan's stomach twisted painfully.
"But..." Ignatius's tone softened just a fraction. "Since this is your first offense, and since you both seem so determined to cover for each other, I will offer you a chance to redeem yourselves."
Ethan's eyes widened, the words barely registering through the haze of panic.
"From this moment on," Ignatius continued, his voice cold and commanding, "you two are expected to get along and perform at the highest level possible. If I don't see both of you within the top twenty of the entrance exam rankings, consider yourselves failures. Or better yet... impress me."
His eyes gleamed with something almost like amusement. "Make it into the top ten. Show me that you're not just a couple of arrogant children throwing tantrums."
Lucien's eyes snapped up, his expression hardening with determination. "I'll make it to the top ten. Without fail."
Ethan's brain fumbled over itself, but he forced the words out before he could regret it. "M-me too. Top ten. I... I'll get there."
Ignatius's gaze remained on them for a moment longer, as if evaluating whether or not they were worth his time. Then, with a nod, he turned and strode out of the room, his presence leaving the air feeling disturbingly empty.
Ethan slumped against the wall, his body feeling like it was held together by string and glue.
"Why the hell did you do that?" Lucien's voice was low, his gaze suspicious. "Why'd you try to take the blame?"
Ethan swallowed, his throat painfully dry. "I-I dunno. Just... figured it might make things less of a disaster."
Lucien looked like he wanted to argue, but something about Ethan's answer seemed to throw him off. Maybe even confuse him.
"Whatever." Lucien grumbled, turning away like he couldn't stand the sight of him anymore. His steps were quick, purposeful, like he was eager to put as much distance between them as possible.
But Ethan couldn't just let him leave. Not when he still had no idea how to get back to the dorms.
"Uh, wait!" Ethan called out, his voice shaky and embarrassingly desperate. "Can you... show me where the dorms are? I-I still don't know where I'm supposed to go."
Lucien paused, his shoulders stiffening as if the very idea of helping him was physically painful. For a moment, Ethan thought he was just going to keep walking.
But then Lucien let out a frustrated sigh and shot him a glare over his shoulder. "Fine. Follow me. But try to keep up."
He didn't wait for a response before striding off down the hallway. Ethan stumbled to his feet and hurried after him, the awkward silence between them thicker than ever.
And as they walked away from the training room, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made things a thousand times more complicated.