Names Written in Flames

Pilot

What seemed to be a million lights flashing as the girl stepped out of the limousine, her beauty instantly captivating despite her irritation. At just 15, she possessed an ethereal allure. Her long, dark navy hair fell in perfect waves, framing a face that seemed sculpted by the gods. Her piercing gold eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes, burned with annoyance. Her perfectly plump, pink lips were pressed into a thin line, refusing to smile as she surveyed the crowd. She moved with a poised grace, her striking beauty undeniable, even as the chaos around her threatened to engulf her.

"Nora, Nora, Nora, look this way!"
"No, Nora, over here!"
"Could you tell us why you decided to attend Aurelia Academy? Isn't that against everything you stand for?"
"Yes, Nora, the people want to know!"
"Exactly! They want to know why you're a sellout. Or are you a hostage our country sent over to those evil bastards? If that's the case, don't be afraid to say it now. We, the people, will help you!"

That last question—or rather, accusation—irritated her like no other. She thought, Is he trying to fan the flames of war just for a quick scoop? I better handle this firmly.

I opened my mouth.
"My reasons for attending are mine and mine alone. I don't owe anyone answers. I was invited, and I didn't have the heart to reject a school with such prestige."

A reporter pushed forward, his voice dripping with skepticism.
"So that's your reason, Nora? Prestige?"

She met his gaze without flinching.
"No, not directly."

Her answer only fueled the confusion, and the reporters erupted, their questions flying at her from every angle, each more frenzied than the last like a horde of banshees shrieking, desperate for a piece of her.

"That's enough. Miss Cross won't be answering any more of your questions," Walter said, guiding me away from the paparazzi.
"Thank you, Walter," I said, giving him a small smile.

He led me through the airport. We went through security, and this time, only friendly fans approached. I was grateful for that. I finally felt slightly at peace.

As I reached the airport gate, it was time to say goodbye.
"Thank you for being by my side all these years." Walter had tears in his eyes. That was strange—I had never once seen him cry in the past four years. He was always stoic. A jack of all trades: my agent, bodyguard, and maybe family. I wasn't too sure about the last one—I had forgotten what that felt like.

"Nora, I could still go with you if you want." That offer made me cry. As tears rolled down my face, I said, "You've done so much for me. I couldn't possibly ask that of you, especially when you have your grandbabies. It's not right to take you away from them."
Walter looked at me with sad eyes. "I love them with all my heart, but I also view you as my own. They wouldn't mind."

We hugged each other.
"Tensions are high, and I can't guarantee your safety. It's really alright," I said.
"Exactly. How could I be a good adult if I let a child handle all the battles?"

Just as I was about to respond, a tall, older man cleared his throat. "Ah, you must be Miss Nora Cross and Walter Hill," the man said, barely glancing up from the clipboard in his hand. "I am Victor Wallace, the esteemed Aurelia representative, and I'll be your guide until you reach the academy—safely, of course." His eyes flicked over them, disinterested. "The plane is boarding, so I'll need you to hand over your bags immediately. We haven't got all day."

He was a tall, lanky man with a stiff posture, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that screamed of old money. His sharp features, framed by graying hair slicked back with too much product, gave him an air of superiority. His thin lips curled in a permanent sneer, and his cold, pale eyes darted around the airport as though he found everything—and everyone—utterly beneath him.