ShadowBound: The Need For Power

The tension changed instantly.

The first-years did not understand at first. Some only recognized the name Granger and the implication of royalty. But the second-years understood enough, and the third-years understood even more. Percy Granger had not been some ordinary student. He had been the former ranked one of his batch, powerful, respected, coldly brilliant, and treated by many as a natural leader before graduation pulled him beyond the academy’s daily hierarchy.

His shadow had hung over Sheila long before she stood at the center of this arena. Everyone who had watched her from first year to now knew that being Percy’s younger sister came with pressure few people could see clearly and even fewer could speak about without cruelty.

Chris did not stop.

"Everyone here remembers Percy Granger," he said, turning slightly toward the older sections. "Powerful. Respected. The kind of student the academy looked at and understood he was meant to lead. He did not need to convince rooms to believe in him. His presence made it obvious."

The arena had grown quiet enough that the wind seemed louder.

Chris looked back at Sheila. "Which makes me wonder, Princess, whether you are truly trying to become commander for the second-years, or whether you are trying to prove you can stand where Percy once stood."

Sheila became very still.

Chris’s smile sharpened. "Perhaps this is not really about Eldervale. Perhaps this is about proving that you can be seen the way he was seen. Perhaps you want to lead because somewhere inside you, you still want Percy to look at you properly as his sister again."

A few students looked down.

Others stared at Sheila.

Chris’s voice softened just enough to become crueler. "After all, we all know you and Percy were never exactly close, despite being family."

The arena went nearly silent.

The point was personal in a way the first had not been. It did not attack her leadership style. It attacked the wound beneath it, or at least the wound Chris believed was still open. Some second-years believed it immediately because they remembered the distant relationship between Sheila and Percy.

They remembered the way Sheila had once reacted to comparisons, the quiet pressure around her whenever Percy’s name appeared, the way being his sister seemed to burden her more than strengthen her. Some third-years reacted too, not loudly, but with small shifts in posture and expression. They had known Percy better. They knew how large a presence he had been, and how difficult it would have been for anyone related to him to stand outside his shadow.

Sheila did not crumble.

But for a moment, she did not speak either.

The arena waited.

From his seat, Liam’s reaction came dangerously close to being inappropriate for the setting.

He almost laughed.

Not loudly. Not mockingly enough for the arena to hear. But the sound rose inside him so suddenly that he had to hold it behind closed lips, and even then, a faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth before he could fully suppress it.

Asher noticed immediately.

He turned his head slightly, frowning. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing," Liam said.

That was obviously a lie.

The smirk had not vanished quickly enough.

Asher’s eyes narrowed. "You look like you just watched someone step into a trap."

Liam’s gaze remained on the center of the arena.

That was because, in his eyes, Chris had.

Unlike many of the students around him, Liam did not see Chris’s Percy attack as the devastating blow it might have been months ago. Once, yes, it could have cracked Sheila open in front of everyone.

Months ago, her relationship with Percy had been an exposed fault line, something any average idiot with enough cruelty could have used to crush her confidence and, by extension, complicate Liam’s freedom because a broken Sheila could not serve as the stable bridge he needed. That was why he had handled it. He had seen the danger early and pushed, prodded, and irritated the right people until the Granger siblings finally mended their little sibling drama, as Liam preferred to think of it.

Percy and Sheila had already faced what Chris was trying to weaponize.

The wound was not untouched anymore.

That meant Chris was late.

Terribly late.

Liam’s smirk faded into something colder and more amused at once. "Such an average idiot of a puppet," he muttered.

Asher caught the words. "What are you actually finding funny in this?"

Liam answered quietly, "This whole charade will end sooner than he thinks."

Asher stared at him for a moment. "You are an annoying bastard when you know something and refuse to explain it."

"Yes."

"That was not a compliment."

"I know."

Asher clicked his tongue and turned his attention back to the center of the arena, though his irritation now mixed with curiosity.

Chris, meanwhile, believed he had placed Sheila exactly where he wanted her.

His posture remained composed, but pride burned beneath it. The silence after his words tasted like victory. Sheila was still. The crowd was waiting. The personal nature of the accusation had struck the arena hard enough that even those who disliked him could not immediately dismiss it. Inwardly, Chris felt satisfaction coil through him.

’Give up,’ he thought, watching Sheila. ’Let me take what is rightfully mine.’

Then he saw her face.

His smirk faltered.

Sheila was smiling.

Not widely. Not mockingly. It was small, quiet, and almost sad, but it was still a smile. Chris’s eyes sharpened in confusion.

’What is this stupid girl smiling about?’

Sheila lifted her gaze.

When she spoke, her voice was calm. "Yes."

The answer startled more than a few students.

She did not deny it.

"There was a time when I measured myself against Percy," Sheila said. "I wanted his acknowledgment. I wanted to understand why he was distant. I wanted to prove that I could stand beside him, or at least close enough that he would see me properly."

The honesty silenced the whispers before they could begin.

Sheila looked at Chris, then past him, toward the second-years seated around the arena. "For a long time, I thought becoming stronger meant becoming closer to what Percy was. I thought if I could match the expectation around him, if I could become someone impressive enough, composed enough, capable enough, then maybe I would finally stop feeling like I was standing behind his shadow."

Some students stared at her in surprise.

Ariana’s eyes softened.

Edith’s expression remained steady, but pride moved faintly through her gaze.

Sheila continued, and her voice strengthened. "But trying to become Percy is exactly why I could not become a proper leader before."

That line changed the arena again.

"Percy’s way of leading belongs to Percy," Sheila said. "His presence, his strength, his distance, his judgment, all of that is his. Not mine. If I spend my life trying to lead like him, I will only become an imitation, and a poor one at that. I do not want to become him. I do not want to replace him. And I do not want to lead as his shadow."

Chris’s face stiffened.

Sheila stood straighter. "I respect my brother. More than I did before, because I understand him better now than I once allowed myself to. But I am done chasing his shadow."

The words carried clearly across the arena.

A few third-years exchanged looks.

Some second-years looked surprised by the lack of denial, then moved into something closer to respect. Sheila had not run from the accusation. She had admitted the truth, then removed its teeth by showing that she had already passed through the part Chris believed he could trap her inside. That made the attack feel less like exposure and more like proof of growth.

"If the second-years choose me," Sheila said, "they are not choosing Percy’s sister. They are choosing Sheila Granger. Eldervale does not need me to be Percy. It needs me to be clear, steady, honest, and willing to carry the role in my own way. That is what I am offering. Not his shadow. Mine."

The reaction was not explosive.

It was better than that.

It was real.

Students murmured with surprise and approval. Some looked impressed because honesty had done what denial could not. Others still seemed unsure, but uncertainty no longer leaned toward Chris as strongly as it had moments ago. Among the third-years, a few nodded quietly, likely understanding more than most what it meant for Sheila to say those words publicly.

Edith’s quiet satisfaction deepened into open pride. Ariana looked emotional but relieved, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as if resisting the urge to cheer. Charlotte’s smile had turned sharp and delighted, the kind she wore when someone handled a trap beautifully. Beside Liam, Asher muttered something under his breath about Chris being a "desperate royal cockroach," which Liam chose not to correct because it was close enough.

At the center of the arena, Chris realized the Percy attack had not cut the way it should have.

He kept his face calm.

Barely.

The stiffness in his expression was obvious to Liam, even if others missed it. Chris’s jaw tightened, and the confidence that had carried him through the first part of the debate lost its smoothness. He had expected Sheila to flinch, deny, stumble, or become defensive. Instead, she had taken the very wound he aimed at and turned it into a declaration before the entire arena.

The momentum had slipped.

Not completely, but enough to anger him.

Chris’s eyes moved through the crowd.

He searched with a quickness he tried to hide, scanning the seats until he found the face he wanted.

Isolde Thorne.

She sat among the third-years, calm as ever, her dark green hair catching the sunlight and her expression unreadable beneath the mask of composed attention. To anyone else, she looked like a student president observing a serious second-year leadership challenge. To Chris, she suddenly looked like the person who had handed him a blade that failed to cut.

His anger sharpened instantly.

’You lying bitch,’ he thought, fury pressing hard beneath his public smile. ’You said this would break her.’

He forced his gaze away before anyone could notice him staring too long.

Inside, his temper burned.

The arena was still watching, and Chris Rature had no intention of looking like he had been betrayed, outplayed, or made into someone else’s fool in front of the entire academy.

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