Ren speech

Ren stood on the stage, her presence magnetic, even from this distance. Her black shirt and pants clung to her frame, exuding a rebellious air that, annoyingly, suited her far too well.

She didn't just stand there; she owned the space, as if the grand auditorium and every single person in it were beneath her notice. And yet, somehow, that confidence only made her more captivating. 

Was this really the same girl I remembered from years ago? The one I used to tease relentlessly?

I'd mocked her stubbornness, her awkward defiance, the way she tried so hard to stand out despite clearly not fitting in. But this Ren was a stranger, more polished yet undeniably dangerous. 

I didn't like how her confidence made my pulse quicken. I loathed how, for a moment, I found myself caught up in her orbit, the gravity of her presence impossible to ignore. 

"Xyra," Levan's voice pulled me from my thoughts. His deep timbre was as steady as always, a grounding force amidst the whirlwind of emotions Ren's unexpected reappearance stirred in me. "You know her?" 

I flicked my gaze to him, my expression carefully schooled into cold indifference. "Classmate," I said simply, the word sharp enough to cut through any implication of familiarity. 

Levan's dark brow arched, curiosity sparking in his piercing blue eyes. His black military uniform, tailored to perfection, accentuated his broad shoulders and commanding stature. Handsome, composed, and utterly devoted to me, Levan was the perfect fiancé. 

Still, I didn't like the way he lingered on Ren, as if trying to piece together the connection between us. There was aboslutely nothing between me and Ren well exept from the part were I was a bully but nothing.

I reached for his hand, entwining my fingers with his in a gesture as much about reassurance as it was about staking a claim. "It's nothing," I said coolly, my tone dismissive. "Let's just hear what she has to say." 

Levan nodded, though his gaze flickered back to the stage. 

The principal, , stepped forward, addressing the audience with the practiced ease of someone used to commanding attention. 

"It is an honour," he began, his voice echoing through the grand hall, "to have with us today someone who embodies the values we strive to instill in all our graduates. Captain Ren Khasar." 

The room rippled with murmurs of recognition and excitement. 

"At only twenty years old," the principal continued, "she has achieved what few could ever dream of—becoming the youngest Captain in our kingdom's history. A knight-mage of extraordinary skill and courage, she stands as a testament to what dedication and resilience can achieve." 

The applause was deafening, and I felt my jaw tighten. 

Ren stepped forward, and for a brief moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Her magic was tangible, an aura that pulsed faintly around her, invisible to most but unmistakable to anyone sensitive to such things.

It wasn't just power; it was command, dominance. The kind of presence that could bring a lesser person to their knees. 

I caught a glimpse of my parents seated nearby, their expressions uncharacteristically attentive. Even my father, usually so unimpressed by anyone outside our noble circle, leaned forward slightly. 

Ren let the applause die down before she began, her voice steady and strong. 

"We're all the same age," she started, her lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. "At least, most of us. Twenty years old and standing here, on the cusp of whatever comes next." 

She paused, scanning the crowd, her gaze lingering just long enough to create the illusion she'd seen each of us individually. 

"Some of you already have your lives mapped out," she continued. "Careers waiting, family expectations to fulfill. Others might feel lost, uncertain of what path to take." 

Her tone was conversational, almost casual, but every word was deliberate, charged with an intensity that demanded attention. 

"I chose my path when I was thirteen," she said, her smile turning faintly wry. "Not because I had everything figured out, but because I didn't. The world I grew up in didn't leave much room for uncertainty, so I decided I'd carve out a place for myself." 

The crowd was silent, enraptured. 

"Becoming a knight-mage isn't easy," Ren continued. "It requires sacrifice. Discipline. A willingness to put yourself in harm's way, to stand as a shield between the innocent and those who would harm them. It's not glamorous, despite what the stories might tell you. It's dirty, exhausting work. But it's worth it." 

Her voice hardened, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Because in a world as broken as ours, someone has to fight for those who can't fight for themselves." 

The room erupted into applause, but I noticed the subtle shifts in expression among the graduates. Some looked inspired, their eyes bright with newfound determination. Others seemed uncertain, their faces reflecting the weight of her words. 

Ren waited for the noise to die down before delivering her final lines. 

"I'm not here to tell you what path to take," she said. "But whatever you choose, make it yours. Don't let anyone else decide your worth or your place in this world." 

With that, she stepped back, her magic flaring faintly, as if punctuating her speech with an unspoken challenge. 

The applause this time was thunderous, and I noticed a group of girls near the front practically swooning. 

"She certainly has fans," Levan remarked, his tone light but tinged with something I couldn't quite place. 

"She always did," I said, my voice colder than I intended. 

Ren's gaze swept over the crowd one last time before she retook her seat. For a moment, her eyes met mine, and I felt an unwelcome surge of heat in my chest. 

Levan leaned closer, his voice low. "We should go back to your castle. We have to be ready for tonight's banquet." 

I nodded, tearing my gaze away from Ren. Whatever strange pull she had over people over me was nothing more than an annoyance. A relic of the past. And I had no intention of letting it linger.