Chapter 9: Judgement
Ethan's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. Words refused to form. His mind was still stuck on the image of that massive fireball tearing toward him, seconds away from turning him to ash.
Ignatius's gaze snapped to Lucien once more, his eyes narrowing. "You nearly blasted this room apart, Mr. Ashford. And the bloodlust I sensed from you was nothing short of murderous. Care to explain?"
Lucien's jaw tightened. His gaze flickered to Ethan, then away, his expression twisted with a mess of guilt and frustration. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained.
"I... I lost control," Lucien admitted, his words forced out like they hurt to say. "I let my emotions get the best of me."
Ignatius's expression didn't change. If anything, his disappointment only deepened. "Lost control?" His voice was cold, scathing. "Control is the very thing that separates the powerful from the reckless. And you, Mr. Ashford, just displayed the sort of recklessness that would get most students expelled on the spot."
Lucien's fists trembled, his shoulders hunched like he was preparing to be struck down. Ethan could see it—how Lucien's pride warred with his own guilt, the conflict making his expression twist with shame.
The professor's gaze turned to Ethan, his expression unreadable. "And you, Mr. Wycliffe. Care to explain what exactly provoked this near-disaster?"
Ethan's heart almost stopped. Ignatius's stare was like a pair of knives pressed against his throat, and the weight of Lucien's burning glare beside him made his entire body feel like it was seconds away from crumbling.
He couldn't let things spiral out of control. If Ignatius punished Lucien too harshly, everything would go off the rails.
The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. "It was my fault!"
Both Ignatius and Lucien stared at him, twin expressions of confusion and disbelief. Ethan's chest tightened, but he forced himself to keep talking.