The banquet hall buzzed with laughter and the clinking of glasses, the rich scent of roasted meats and fragrant spices hanging thick in the air. Ellie sat stiffly at her place, overwhelmed by the evening’s grandeur. Her discomfort was masked behind a well-practiced, tight-lipped smile.

Around her, nobles and mages exchanged hushed words. Their glances darted in her direction—some with reverence, others with thinly veiled curiosity. She felt their eyes on her, more acutely than the weight of the jeweled robe draped over her shoulders. It felt like a heavy chain, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was on display.

“Lady Ellie,” a voice broke through the murmurs, and she turned to see a stout man with a thin mustache and gleaming rings on each of his fingers. His grin was as wide as it was false. “I’ve heard many stories of your... talent. Quite remarkable for someone so young.”

Ellie’s fingers brushed the edge of her goblet, and she nodded politely. “Thank you, milord,” she replied, her voice smooth, revealing nothing. “I’m afraid the stories have been... exaggerated.”

“I doubt that.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Mages like yourself don’t simply fall into obscurity. People remember power.”

Ellie’s smile tightened. She wished they wouldn’t.

The evening dragged on, a seemingly endless parade of meaningless conversation and forced laughter. Every word she spoke was measured, each movement deliberately controlled. The more she tried to fade into the background, the more attention she seemed to attract. Her silence, rather than conveying unease, seemed to intrigue them even more.

“Such restraint,” she overheard someone whisper behind her. “It’s the mark of true power.”

She wanted to laugh. If only they knew.

A fork scraped loudly against a plate nearby, pulling her from her thoughts. Ellie’s chest tightened as another group of nobles cast sidelong glances at her, murmuring amongst themselves.

She couldn’t keep this up all night.

“They think I’m something I’m not.” Ellie stared at the flickering candle in front of her. The longer she sat there, the more the tension in her chest built. She needed to shift the focus away from herself, to break this illusion they had constructed around her. But how?

Her eyes landed on the candle’s wick. A simple spell, she thought. Just a small flicker to light it again. A child’s trick. It would make her seem less imposing, less... dangerous.

Ellie drew a breath and whispered the incantation, her fingers hovering just above the flame. “Just a spark, something simple.”

But the moment the words left her lips, something went wrong. An unfamiliar surge of energy coursed through her veins—too fast, too strong. Panic welled up inside her. She tried to stop, but it was too late.

A brilliant arc of light shot from her fingertips, igniting the candle in a blaze of golden flame. Ellie’s breath hitched. The flame wasn’t supposed to be that large.

The hall grew quiet, eyes snapping toward her, but before she could act, the magic spiraled out of control.

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The flame leaped from candle to candle, arcs of magic twisting through the air in a kaleidoscope of colors—red, blue, green, purple—each wick exploding into dazzling bursts of fire. Gasps filled the hall, and the soft murmurs turned into shocked whispers.

“What in the—?”

“Did you see that?”

“She’s—”

Ellie’s heart pounded in her chest as the sparks twisted into intricate, swirling patterns above the banquet table, almost beautiful in their chaotic dance. But the beauty was short-lived.

One of the colored flames flicked dangerously close to a noble’s sleeve, and Ellie jerked to her feet. “Stop! Stop!” she muttered through gritted teeth, forcing her hands to still the magic.

The colors froze mid-air, suspended in time, before fizzling out one by one. The hall was plunged back into the warm glow of candlelight, the chaos dissipating as quickly as it had started.

For a long, agonizing moment, no one spoke. Then, a slow clap echoed from the far end of the table.

“Well done, Lady Ellie. Truly, I can see why they speak of you with such awe.”

Ellie swallowed hard, her face flushed with embarrassment. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply offered him a tight smile before sinking back into her chair.

What had she just done?

Nearby, a court mage leaned forward, eyes gleaming with admiration. “A display of such… delicate control…”

Ellie blinked, heart racing, as she watched fireworks swirl through the air. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wanted to stand, to explain—anything to stop the misunderstanding—but her voice caught in her throat.

Then, from the far end of the hall, a deliberate, slow clap echoed. The king.

“Well done, Lady Ellie.” He stood, lifting his goblet, his face lit with amusement. “Such elegance. Such artistry.”

Ellie’s stomach dropped. Elegance? Artistry?

The applause spread like wildfire, from the king to the nobles, then the mages. First a few claps, then a chorus of admiration, the hall resounding with cheers. Ellie could barely breathe. They weren’t horrified. They thought this—this chaos—was intentional.

The mage beside her leaned in, his eyes shining. “To command such raw power… with such restraint,” he murmured, clearly in awe. “A rare talent indeed.”

This restraint thing again? Ellie’s hands trembled under the table. She clenched her fists, struggling to maintain her composure. Restraint was the last thing she had shown. She had nearly set the entire banquet hall on fire, yet they applauded her as though she had orchestrated the perfect display.

Across the table, a noblewoman raised her glass, smiling warmly at Ellie. “Such precision. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Ellie could only nod, her throat too tight to respond. She forced a weak smile, the corners of her lips twitching as she tried to make sense of the madness around her. The legend they were building around her was taking root—layer by layer, with every approving glance and whispered praise.

The king’s voice rose again, commanding the room’s attention. “To Lady Ellie,” he declared, his smile broadening, “whose talents continue to humble us all.”

A wave of toasts followed, goblets raised high. Ellie lifted her own, her hand barely steady enough to keep from spilling the wine. Her pulse thundered in her ears as the entire room drank in her name.

“Lady Ellie!” A noble lifted his goblet higher than the rest. “A wonder to behold!”

Cheers erupted again. Ellie’s heart sank deeper. The more they spoke, the further the truth slipped away. She wasn’t a wonder. She wasn’t a sorcerous prodigy. She was just… Ellie.

As the final spark of magic flickered out, the king took his seat once more, gesturing for the hall to return to its revelry. The murmurs resumed, but the tone had shifted. No longer whispers of curiosity—now, they spoke of power, of potential, of the kingdom’s greatest new weapon.

Ellie’s hands were cold, her thoughts spinning. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more—the fact that they believed she had done this on purpose, or the fact that they might expect her to do it again.