CHAPTER 34: A PLEA UNHEARD

[Principal Camila’s Office —]

The breeze in Principal Camila’s office was still and heavy with the scent of polished oak and parchment. Sunlight streamed in through the tall glass windows, slicing the room into bars of soft gold that glimmered across the mahogany desk. Books and ancient scrolls were neatly arranged in shelves that lined the walls, each spine whispering of centuries-old wisdom. The faint hum of distant voices from the academy’s courtyard gave the space an almost sacred calm— the kind that demanded silence.

Then came a knock on the door.

"BAM. BAM"

Camila lifted her eyes from the scroll she was reading. "Come in," she said, her voice was steady and composed as always.

The door swung open, and Ball stepped in, closing it behind her with a trembling hand. Her wings were folded tight against her back, a sign of unease. She wasn’t dressed in her usual confident posture— instead, her shoulders drooped slightly, and her eyes carried something desperate.

"Principal Camila," she began, her voice cautious but firm, "I’m sorry for disturbing you, but I needed to speak with you... urgently."

Camila set her quill down and gave a small nod, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Go ahead, Ball. What’s troubling you?"

Ball hesitated before sitting. "It’s about the Galveston trip. I heard the list has already been finalized... but..." she drew in a breath, steadying herself. "...I need to be part of it."

Camila’s brow lifted slightly. "Part of it?"

"Yes," Ball said quickly, leaning forward. "I’ve trained for months, longer than most of the others. My flight control has improved, my channeling is stable, So has my powers... and I’ve passed every evaluation since the last term. I’m ready and I can contribute enormously for the group. Please, Principal Camila, let me go."

Camila listened quietly, her fingers laced together on the desk. There was no dismissiveness in her gaze— only the calm patience of someone who had heard many of such pleas before.

"I admire your dedication Ball," Camila said softly, "and I’ve noticed your progress. Truly, I have. But the selection was based on several criteria, not just performance. The council decided on a limited number of participants for this phase of training. We can’t afford to send everyone."

Ball frowned. "But I’m not just anyone. I’m Ball, and I’m capable— maybe more than some who were chosen. I just need the chance to prove it." Her voice cracked, her emotions were bleeding through the cracks in her composure. "Why should I be left behind when others get to go?"

Camila exhaled slowly, choosing her words with care. "This isn’t about favoritism or doubt, my dear. Every name on that list was carefully considered. The Garden of Galveston is not a simple training ground— it’s a spiritual field. The energy there is... unpredictable. Only those whose balance has been fully aligned with their celestial essence can handle its pull."

She paused, her tone soft but firm again. "And you, dear, are not quite there yet."

Ball’s eyes glimmered with frustration. "So that’s it? I just wait here while the others get stronger?"

"I understand how that feels," Camila replied gently. "But your time will come. Pushing too early could do more harm than good. Sometimes, staying behind prepares you better than running ahead."

Ball stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the polished floor. "With all due respect, Principal, I can handle whatever Galveston brings. I’m not weak."

"I never said you were," Camila said, her tone calm but weighted. "You’re strong, Ball — but strength without timing can be dangerous."

Ball’s wings flinched open slightly, betraying her agitation. For a moment, she looked as though she wanted to argue further, to pour out everything she’d been bottling up— the envy, the need to prove herself, the sting of being overlooked. But she stopped herself. Her jaw tightened.

"I see," she said finally, with her voice low. "Then there’s nothing more to say."

Camila’s gaze softened. "I hope you understand this decision wasn’t made lightly. You’ll have another opportunity. Be patient with yourself."

Ball nodded stiffly, though her eyes didn’t meet Camila’s. She turned on her heel and walked to the door, her footsteps echoing faintly through the silent room. Just as she reached for the handle, Camila spoke again — gently, but firmly.

"Ball," she said. "Don’t let anger guide you. It clouds judgment faster than darkness ever could."

Ball froze for half a heartbeat before pulling the door open. "Understood, ma’am" she said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her frustration. She stepped out and closed the door behind her— perhaps a bit harder than she intended.

When the room fell silent again, Camila leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. She glanced toward the window, watching the students in the courtyard below— they were laughing and chatting, unaware of the building storm, that is about to rain on them.

And quietly, almost to herself, Camila murmured,

"I hope you choose the right path, Ball. For your sake... and ours."

Outside principal Camila’s office, Ball’s wings twitched with restrained fury as she stormed down the quiet corridor. Her footsteps echoed against the marble floor, sharp and uneven— a rhythm that matched the irritated muttering spilling from her lips.

"Unbelievable," she hissed under her breath. "After everything I’ve done... after all the stupid hours of training... she says no?" Her fists clenched at her sides, her nails biting into her palms. "Doesn’t want too many people going? What kind of excuse is that? It’s always the same— rules, order, balance. I’m so tired of this!"

Her frustration rose in waves, each word dripping with bitterness. "I’m just as capable as any of them. I’ve fought, I’ve trained, I’ve bled for this academy— and she thinks I’m not ready? Oh, give me a break." She kicked hard at the trashcan by the side of the corridor, her wings twitching again.

Ball was still muttering as the walked violently, she turned to a corner and nearly crashed right into someone.

The impact jolted her backward slightly. She blinked up... and froze.

Standing before her, dark-eyed and unreadable, was Principal Darren. His posture was immaculate as always, his expression calm but carrying that faint air of silent power that made everyone uneasy.

"Miss Ball," he said in his deep, smooth tone. "Why exactly, are you storming through the hallway kicking innocent cans... and talking to yourself?"

Ball’s eyes widened slightly. "Oh! Sir... Principal Darren! I... um..." She scrambled for words, her voice pitching into a nervous laugh. "I wasn’t talking to myself! Just... thinking out loud! You know, motivation and all that!"

Darren raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

Her frustration twisted into desperation. She pressed a hand to her chest dramatically, as if to steady her breathing. "It’s just... I really wanted to go to Galveston, sir. I went to talk to Principal Camila, but she... she turned me down."

Darren regarded her silently, his face revealing nothing. Ball felt a flicker of discomfort under his gaze.

"She said there wasn’t enough space," Ball continued, her voice softening into something close to a plea. "But I’ve trained harder than anyone! I’ve studied, fought, learned every rule in the handbook! I’m not just doing this for me, sir... it’s for the academy! I just want to prove I belong."

When Darren didn’t respond immediately, Ball leaned in slightly, letting her eyes glisten — fake tears shimmering at the corners. "Please, sir. I really...really deserve this chance."

The silence hung thick between them. Then, Darren gave a low exhale that might’ve been a sigh or a quiet laugh. His gaze sharpened slightly, his voice cool and measured.

"Dry those tears, Ball..." he said. "They may work on angels, but not on devils."

Her feigned sob caught in her throat. "I...I wasn’t..."

He held up a hand. "Save the act." A faint smirk touched the edge of his mouth. "If you wanted something that badly, you should’ve come to me first."

Ball blinked, caught off guard. "W...What?"

"You’ll be included in the list," Darren said simply. "Your... enthusiasm, let’s call it that, demonstrates commitment. The academy could use students who are so determined to serve."

Her wings fluttered in surprise, her mouth parting slightly. "Are you...are you serious?"

"Completely."

The sudden shift in her expression was almost comical— the anger melted into joy, the fake tears replaced by a wide, beaming smile. "Oh my... thank you, sir! Thank you so much! I swear I won’t let you down!"

"I would hope not," Darren replied dryly, already brushing past her. "Determination is admirable... but it’s useless without discipline. Make sure yours doesn’t falter."

Ball turned to watch him go, with her grin refusing to fade. "Yes, sir! Absolutely!" she called after him.

As Darren’s figure disappeared around the corner, Ball let out a triumphant laugh under her breath. "Guess fake tears do work sometimes," she whispered, smirking to herself.

Her wings flared lightly as she strutted down the hallway, her earlier frustration completely gone. For the first time all day, the world felt like it was finally tilting in her favor.

She was going to Galveston.

And nothing— not even Principal Camila was going to stop her now.