Chapter Four – The Name and the Cloth
I didn't mean to say it.
It just slipped out. Quiet, like a whisper I wasn't supposed to hear, let alone speak.
"Drakora."
I stood there in the empty hallway outside the principal's office, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.
No loud crack. No flash of light. Not even a weird flicker in the lights above me. Just silence.
I rolled my eyes at myself, shook it off, and kept walking toward the main Quadrant. It was probably nothing. Just a strange name. Maybe a stupid old word stuck in my head from somewhere.
But still… it felt heavy in my mouth. Like it meant something.
---
I didn't notice when my uniform changed.
There wasn't a flash or anything dramatic. No burning, no tingling. Just one step after the other. One hallway blending into the next. And somewhere in between, my whole look shifted — and I had no idea.
By the time I got to the Quadrant, it was already too late.
---
The place was packed, as usual.
Groups of students were everywhere, sitting on stone benches, leaning against tree trunks, throwing small sparks at each other from their fingertips like they were playing tag with magic. Someone was balancing a sword on their nose. Typical.
I walked into the space like it was just another day.
And then everything got weird.
People turned. One by one. Like a chain reaction. Someone stopped talking. Another one stared. Then everyone else followed.
It was like the whole school had turned to look at me — at once.
And I had no idea why.
At first.
Then I heard the whispers.
> "Did she dye it?"
"She's bold, I'll give her that."
"Does she want to get kicked out?"
I frowned. What?
Then I looked down.
And froze.
---
My uniform wasn't navy and white anymore.
It was red. Not just red — deep, dark, almost glowing red. Like it was stitched from fire and shadows. It shimmered in the light. It moved when I moved.
It was… beautiful.
But also completely not allowed.
I blinked. Rubbed my arm. Tried to convince myself I was imagining it. That maybe the sun was messing with my eyes.
But it wasn't the sun.
The fabric felt warm. Real. Different.
And I knew for sure — I hadn't changed it.
I hadn't done anything.
Except say that name.
Drakora.
---
Far away — way too far for me to know — a woman with long crimson hair dropped her brush.
She was alone, in a tall tower made of glass and stone, lit by soft blue light. Her eyes were sharp. Her skin pale. And in her hand, a strand of her braid had turned gray.
She didn't gasp. Didn't freak out.
Just stared.
She knew what it meant.
> "She said it," the Queen whispered.
"The name woke her."
---
Back at school, I kept walking like nothing was happening. Like I didn't hear them. Like I wasn't burning under their stares.
But my chest felt hot. My skin was buzzing. Like something had been turned on inside me — and I didn't know how to shut it off.
Someone muttered as I passed,
> "She's just trying to show off."
"Bet she wants attention."
"Wait till the Headmistress sees this…"
I kept my eyes down and sat on a bench near the fountain. Pulled out a book, even though my hands were kind of shaking.
Was I dreaming?
Did I imagine the word?
Did I… cause this?
I tugged at my sleeve again. It shimmered. Almost like it had a heartbeat.
What even was this?
---
The Queen, miles away, stood by a giant map stretched across her wall.
The wind inside her tower shifted. Candles flickered.
She touched the gray strand of hair again and said,
> "Let them think it's rebellion. Let them punish her. They don't know what's waking."
They should never.
She closed her eyes, tears quietly slipping through the cracks
> "But I do."
---
I sat in the middle of the courtyard while everyone whispered about me.
Some thought I was brave. Others thought I was reckless.
None of them knew w
hat I'd said.
None of them knew what had changed.
Not even me.
But one thing was clear — this wasn't normal.
And whatever it was… had already started.