Chapter 4

       Jason couldn’t hold back his laugh seeing Seranna in that costume. Yes, she won but it still ridiculous to see the tough untouched eldest girl wearing the silly orange costume. Even this time Elanere could no longer hold her grin. Secretly taking photos of her best friend,

       “Do you have any idea how cute you looked while running?” Jason, who was still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, decided to demonstrate exactly what Seranna had looked like. He exaggerated every movement, mimicking a person with a round body struggling to run, his arms flailing and legs kicking up in an awkward sprint.

       Seranna’s reaction was instant and instinctive. Without thinking, she raised her middle finger at him. The action only fueled the laughter around her—Elanere, Alora, and Keahi burst into hearty laughter, their amusement filling the air.

       Jason had been like this ever since their infamous confrontation about a month ago when he had been bullying Savana. Ever since then, Jason had taken an odd interest in her. Whether it was an attempt at friendship, an act of petty revenge, or simply because he found her reaction amusing, no one really knew.

       Since then, he had started showing up in the most unexpected places. He somehow managed to slip into the junior high students’ morning exercise line just to be near her. During lunch, he always seemed to find a way to sit next to her in the cafeteria, no matter how crowded it was. He made a habit of loudly calling her name in front of his friends, drawing unnecessary attention to her. And, perhaps his favorite move of all, he would walk all the way to her class just to flash his own middle finger at her before walking away with a smirk.

       Today was no different.

       “Seranna—!” Jason’s voice was filled with mischief as he suddenly lunged, throwing an arm over her shoulder. His other hand was already reaching into his pocket. Before she could react, he had his phone out, aimed at them.

Click.

       A perfectly timed photo of Seranna, looking utterly pissed off, appeared on his screen. Jason grinned at the result. “This one’s a keeper,”

       Seranna groaned, shoving his arm off her shoulder. Elanere leaned over, peeking at the screen. “Oh, that’s a masterpiece,”

       Jason just laughed, holding the phone out of Seranna’s reach as she tried—and failed—to snatch it away. The girl shoved him away without hesitation and made a beeline for Savana and Keeran. She barely spared a glance back, her focus solely on shedding the ridiculous costume that clung to her like an unwanted memory.

       With a sharp sigh, she pulled it off, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the remnants of the evening.

       “Get back home. Franco is waiting,” she said, her voice softer now, offering the two a brief wave before turning away.

       Without wasting another second, she headed for the restroom, her pace steady but determined. The moment she stepped inside, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and nearly groaned. The bright, over-the-top costume looked even more absurd under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

       Shaking her head, she quickly changed into her usual attire—comfortable, familiar, and far more her. The lingering embarrassment of the day still clung to her, but there was no time to dwell on it.

       She grabbed her bag, exhaled slowly, and muttered under her breath, half in sarcasm, half in resignation—

       “Great job today, Seranna,” With that, she squared her shoulders and walked out. Her math course awaited.

***

       Celyth sat in silence, waiting for Seranna to arrive. The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of roasted coffee and aged wood, a stark contrast to the bustling city she had left behind. The café, tucked away in the quiet outskirts, had an old-world charm, its dim lighting and rustic décor creating an oddly comforting atmosphere.

       Beside her, Lorcan sat with his usual composed demeanor, but the moment his phone vibrated, he stood, excusing himself with a curt nod before stepping away to take the call. Business, no doubt—his voice carried the firm, clipped tone he always used when speaking to colleagues.

       Left alone, Celyth absentmindedly twisted the cap off her drink, her gaze drifting to the view beyond the café’s wooden deck. The landscape stretched into the distance, bathed in the soft glow of the sun. She sighed, running a hand through her neck-length hair before pulling out her phone, scrolling lazily through the screen.

       Lorcan had assured her that Seranna would be of great help, speaking with absolute certainty. But who was this woman? What kind of person was capable of helping her, of all people?

       Her mind wandered, forming vague images of who Seranna might be—until the sound of approaching footsteps snapped her back to reality.

       Lorcan ended his call abruptly, turning toward the newcomer with an expression of familiarity.

       “Seranna,” Lorcan said. The two exchanged a firm handshake, their ease around each other suggesting a history she wasn’t privy to. Celyth arched an eyebrow, scrutinizing the woman before her.

       This was Seranna? The supposed problem-solver Lorcan had spoken so highly of? No way.

       She had expected someone rugged, someone tomboyish, maybe even intimidating. But Seranna—this woman—didn’t fit that mold at all. Her confidence was subtle, exuding a quiet strength rather than loud bravado. Celyth had no idea what to make of her.

       Still, politeness dictated her next move. She stood, offering a respectful bow, despite the skepticism twisting in her gut. Seranna’s lips curled into an easy yet elegant smile.

       “You must be Celyth,” she said, her voice smooth yet assured, “I’m Seranna Geraski. Just call me Seranna. No need for formality, beautiful—here, we’re about to discuss what we have in common,”

       Celyth hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in Seranna’s tone. Something about her presence—unassuming yet unwavering—made it hard to look away.

       She wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

       But one thing was certain—this meeting was about to get interesting.

***

“I was like you once,” Seranna mused, “Rebellious. Hated being underestimated. When I look at you, Celyth… I see myself,”

       She tilted her head, “Do you do martial arts?”

       Celyth blinked, surprised, then nodded, “I do, but I’m not really into it. I prefer badminton and horse riding,”

       Seranna smirked, “Badminton’s not my thing, but horse riding? I’m good at it. What if I organized a horse race for you?”

       Celyth looked stunned. Seranna exchanged a glance with Lorcan. He stepped forward, “And if you win, I’ll approve your enrollment in your favorite sports school,”

       Silence hung between them before he pressed, “Sounds good?”

      Celyth’s breath hitched. A horse race? And if she won, she’d finally get permission to attend her dream sports school? It sounded too good to be true. Her gaze flickered between Lorcan and Seranna, searching for any sign of insincerity. But their expressions remained steady—serious. She exhaled sharply, “You’re not joking?”

       Lorcan crossed his arms, “Do I look like I’m joking?”

       She straightened her posture, her mind racing as fast as her heart, “You mean it?” she asked cautiously.

       Lorcan nodded. “Win the race, and you have my word.”

        Celyth loved riding, but racing was different. It demanded not just skill but strategy, endurance, and perfect synchronization with the horse. Still, she wasn’t about to back down.

        “When’s the race?” she asked.

        “Three days from now,”

       Seranna leaned forward slightly, a small smirk on her lips, “We both know you’re not someone who backs down from a challenge, Celyth. The question is—will you take it?”

       Celyth clenched her fists. It wasn’t a matter of wanting to take it. She had to. This was the opportunity she had been fighting for. Months of arguments, of pleading, of trying to prove herself, all came down to this one offer.

       But still…

       Her hesitation wasn’t out of fear of losing. She was a strong rider, and she knew it. But was she ready? Racing wasn’t just about skill—it was about endurance, strategy, and knowing when to push and when to hold back. Could she prepare in time?

       She forced herself to meet Seranna’s expectant gaze, “Who am I racing against?”

       Seranna shrugged, “Other riders, of course. You didn’t think we’d let you race alone, did you?”

       Celyth’s stomach tightened. That meant real competition—experienced riders. This wasn’t just some test for her; it was a full-fledged event.

       Lorcan must have noticed the flicker of doubt in her expression, because he stepped closer. His voice was calm but firm, “You say you’re serious about this school. Prove it,”

       Celyth swallowed.

       Three days. That was likely all she’d have to prepare. Three days to sharpen every skill she had, to make sure her horse—her partner—was as ready as she was.

       She closed her eyes for a brief moment, steadying herself. Then she nodded, “I’ll do it.”

       Seranna grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

       Lorcan nodded, “Good. Because once you accept, there’s no backing out,” Celyth lifted her chin, determination flaring in her chest, “I wasn’t planning to,”

***

       Seranna and Lorcan sat in his study, enveloped by a silence that, while heavy, held no discomfort. The air carried the faint scent of tobacco as Lorcan leaned back in his chair, fingers idly tapping against the polished mahogany desk between them. Across from him, Seranna remained poised, her sharp gaze fixed on the plans they had begun to set in motion.

       “Looks like we're starting to get through to her,” she murmured, breaking the quiet.

Lorcan took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before responding, “You really know how to get close to her,” he admitted, his tone unreadable, “But honestly, Seranna… I didn’t expect you to suggest a horse race,”

       Seranna’s lips curved slightly, though whether in amusement or calculation was unclear, “It was spontaneous,” she admitted, “And her reaction was exactly as I expected. But now, Lorcan, the real problem is...” She leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the desk, “We need to open the registration as soon as possible. Recruit riders. The race has to be grand—extravagant, even. It has to be something worthy of Celyth,”

       Lorcan studied her for a moment, the glow of his cigarette casting faint shadows across his sharp features. Then, with a slow nod, he reached for his glass, swirling the amber liquid inside, “Then we’d better make sure we do it right,”

       Lorcan exhaled slowly, a thin stream of smoke curling toward the ceiling. His sharp eyes flickered with contemplation as he tapped the cigarette against the ashtray.

       “A formal race, then,” he said, “You're taking this seriously,”

       Seranna sat with her hands folded on the table, “Of course. She needs this. If she wants to prove herself, it has to be through something real. Not a favor, not an empty test—something she has to earn,”

       Lorcan considered her words for a moment, “Then we need to ensure the event is worth winning. A proper competition, with riders who can challenge her. She should understand the weight of what she’s fighting for,”

       Seranna gave a slight nod, “I agree. This can’t be something easy. She has potential, but potential means nothing without pressure,”

       Lorcan crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and stood. He walked to his desk, pulling out a blank sheet of paper, “We’ll need competitors. Skilled ones. People who won’t let her win easily,”

       Seranna tapped a finger against the table, “I know a few names. Riders with discipline, experience. They won’t hold back,”

       Lorcan wrote down a few notes, “We’ll use Blackwood Track. The invitations will be sent out by morning. That gives us three days,”

       “Three days to make this a race worth remembering,” Seranna said.

       Lorcan glanced at her, “And if she loses?”

       Seranna didn’t hesitate, “Then she’ll know she wasn’t ready. And that will push her further,”

       Lorcan studied her for a moment, then returned his attention to the plan in front of him, “Then we begin tonight,”

***

       Lorcan watched as the door shut behind Seranna, the quiet of his study settling around him like a thick fog. He sat motionless for a few seconds, then reached for another cigarette. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The flame flickered as he lit the tip, inhaling deeply before exhaling a slow stream of smoke. His mind was already moving ahead, assembling the details of the race with the precision of a strategist preparing for battle.

       The event had to be more than just a challenge for Celyth—it had to be a spectacle. Something that would leave an impression, not just on her but on everyone involved. The competitors had to be the best they could find, the stakes high enough that victory would mean something.

       He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray before pulling out another sheet of paper. His handwriting was neat and sharp, each stroke deliberate as he drafted the official invitation:

BLACKWOOD TRACK INVITATIONAL HORSE RACE

A test of skill, endurance, and strategy. Only the best riders will be selected.

Prize: A champion stallion of elite breeding.

Date: 10rh April 2025

Location: Blackwood Track.

Only serious competitors should apply.

       Lorcan scanned the page, ensuring there was no unnecessary embellishment. Direct. Uncompromising. That was how he preferred things. He set it aside and moved on to his next task—securing the competitors.

       Seranna had already suggested Jareth Hoeven, a rider known for his ruthless efficiency on the track. Kira Tassin and Rhys Aveldon were also strong choices. But three riders weren’t enough. They needed at least six.

       He picked up his pen and wrote three more names:

1.     Cassian Rell – A rider with exceptional technical skill, known for his calculated racing style.

2.     Elias Torrence – A wild card. Young but unpredictable, capable of brilliance or recklessness.

3.     Selene Valtier – The daughter of a noble family, trained in equestrian sports since childhood.

       Six riders.

       With Celyth, that made seven. The number felt right—just enough to ensure competition without turning it into chaos.

      He folded the paper neatly, placing it inside an envelope. These invitations would be sent immediately. By morning, every rider on the list would know about the race.

***