From the very first moment with him, I didn’t feel like I was learning.

I felt like I was being put to the test. Not on spells—on survival.

Only two days had passed since lessons began, but it already felt like weeks—like he was searching for a way to break me.

“This time,” he muttered, slamming his shoulder into mine as he brushed past. “Try doing it right.”

I rolled my eyes and repeated the incantation three times with my eyes open, then three more with them closed. Focus. Nothing.

Something thick burned inside me—like smoke trapped in my chest, desperate for escape.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Maybe I expected too much. That’s on me.”

“Oh, really? You’re permitting me to fail? How generous.” My voice had a sarcastic undercurrent.

A crooked smile slid across his lips—the kind that made the room colder.

The dark chamber walls seemed to press in, closing around me.

Then, he wrapped his hands around my neck.

My skin prickled. Static flared hot.

“What are you doing?” I gasped, stumbling back.

He stepped forward, prolonging the moment and amplifying the fear.

“I’m giving you motivation. Use the fire to breathe again.”

And then he moved faster.

The currents inside me turned to heat. Flames burst from my hands—but his grip didn’t loosen.

Air vanished. My head spun. My fingers trembled. My brain fought to keep me anchored inside my body.

The world narrowed to pressure. Two hands. To terror.

Maybe it’s a method, a test, I thought. Although it is harsh, I believe it could be a way to make me stronger.

But if this is what learning looks like, then we have broken something.

My pulse thundered in my skull. I saw myself from above, floating, watching my own body choke.

I was a shadow—functioning, moving, but hollow inside.

In that moment, I wasn’t supernatural.

Not a student.

Not Amilia.

Just a body fighting for breath.

When he finally let go, I collapsed to my knees. Air clawed its way back into my lungs. My chest burned. My heart pounded like a war drum.

He crouched beside me, whispering:

“I’m your teacher. Here, I decide who you are. You don’t need to understand—only obey.”

This wasn’t guidance. This was a battlefield.

Not a lesson—control.

He wasn’t touching me out of desire. He was touching me to break it. To bend. To shatter.

Maybe, in his mind, this was the only way. Perhaps he was fighting his demons through me.

But if no one else sees it, I'll be the one who stops staying silent.

He rose. His voice was laced with a smirk, but underneath… something else. Concern? Fear? Like he wasn’t entirely in control.

“If you don’t learn the easy way, we’ll try the hard one.”

He spun me and pulled me against him—too fast, too close. My ribs tightened. My legs froze.

Fear consumed me.

And yet, for a flicker—his eyes weren’t there.

Trapped. Like he felt it, too.

“It’s training,” he whispered. “But I make the rules. Do you understand?”

Again, softer: “You don’t need to understand—only obey.”

I nodded. Swallowed the pain.

“A disciplined student,” he murmured. “Finally.”

But I felt erased. Not a warrior. Not a student. Not me.

Just a living thing, bent into silence.

I caught sight of the mirror on the wall.

The mark on my neck burned deeper than his grip.

I broke.

There’s nothing left but hate.

Tears welled. I don’t need a healer if I know how to heal.

So why does it hurt so much?

Notebook. Pen.

I wrote, "Amilia knows how to heal." She remembers. She won’t stay silent.

I can’t forget.

I placed my hand over the wound. The pain dulled. The skin sealed. But the mark remained.

So did I. Scarred on the inside.

My breathing stayed heavy. A weight pressed from within—something no spell could fix.

Maybe it wasn’t guilt. Maybe it was me—surrendering.

But then, on the edge of a tear, something cleared.

No.

If I don’t fight for myself, no one will.

I crossed an inner line, not from weakness, but from choice.

I am not a student who obeys the rules.

I am not a weapon for someone else’s hand.

I am a being who chooses.

And I would rather burn than let someone who sees me only as weak save me.