The Long Way Back | Lady Lesso

Chapter 4

The following morning began with a tension in the air, heavier than the perpetual storm clouds swirling above the School for Evil. You hadn't slept much, the memory of Lady Lesso's sharp emerald gaze invading your restless dreams. Her words from the Special Talents class echoed in your mind—Power without control is not strength—it is weakness.

Weakness.

The idea of her thinking you weak was unbearable, a knot twisting in your chest as you replayed the moment she had dispelled your spell. You had been so close to impressing her, and instead, you had only reinforced her warnings. But somewhere beneath the humiliation lay a spark—a dangerous, intoxicating thrill at the thought that you had intrigued her, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Determined to prove yourself, you threw yourself into your morning lessons with an intensity that surprised even you. Hexing, curses, dark incantations—none of it intimidated you, and by the time lunch arrived, your head was buzzing with new knowledge and possibilities.

But none of it mattered if you couldn't master control.

By the time the lunch bell rang, you were too lost in thought to notice the glances from your classmates or the whispers trailing in your wake. They had seen what you were capable of yesterday, and while some were clearly impressed, others looked at you as though you were a threat. You weren't sure which was worse.

You had barely touched your tray of food when a shadow fell over your table. Glancing up, you found yourself staring at one of your classmates—a tall, sharp-featured girl with cold blue eyes and a cruel smirk.

"Well, if it isn't the little star of yesterday's show," she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. "What's the matter? Too busy sulking to eat?"

You stiffened, gripping your fork tightly. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing much," she said, leaning against the table with a practiced air of indifference. "I just thought it was funny, that's all. The big display of power, the whole dramatic show—and then you couldn't even keep it together. All that potential, wasted."

Her words stung, but you refused to let her see it. "At least I have potential," you shot back, your voice steady. "What do you have?"

Her smirk faltered, and for a moment, you thought she might lash out. But before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Miss Y/N," Lady Lesso said, her tone sharp and commanding. "A word."

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. The tall girl stepped aside immediately, her arrogance evaporating under Lesso's gaze. You barely had time to process what was happening before Lesso turned and strode toward the hallway, her cane tapping against the stone floor in rhythm with her steps.

Swallowing hard, you pushed your tray aside and hurried after her, ignoring the whispers that erupted around the dining hall.

The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows on the walls. Lesso led you to a quiet alcove, where she stopped and turned to face you. Her expression was unreadable, her emerald eyes assessing you with the same intensity that had unnerved you the day before.

"Do you know why I asked you here?" she asked, her voice low and even.

You stood rooted in place, your hands clasped tightly in front of you as you searched her expression for any sign of her intentions. Her question hung in the air, sharp as the edge of her cane.

"To lecture me?" you offered cautiously, though there was an edge of defiance in your tone that you couldn't entirely suppress.

Lesso arched a brow, her lips curling faintly—not quite a smile, but close enough to make your pulse quicken. "Oh believe me, if I wanted to lecture you, little one, I would have done so in front of the entire dining hall."

Your shoulders tensed, the implication clear. Whatever this was, it was personal.

"I called you here," Lesso continued, her voice soft but no less commanding, "because I see something in you. A spark. A potential that is... raw, yes, but not unworthy of attention."

Your breath caught in your throat. Of all the things you had imagined her saying, this was not one of them.

"I—thank you," you stammered, your confidence faltering under her steady gaze.

She raised a hand to silence you, the movement fluid and precise. "Don't thank me. Not yet. Potential means nothing if it's squandered, and yesterday you came dangerously close to doing just that."

Your face burned with shame, but you refused to look away. "I was trying to prove myself," you said quietly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "I thought if I could show—"

"You thought wrong," she interrupted, her tone cutting but not unkind. "Power is not a performance, Miss Y/N. It is not about dazzling your audience or seeking approval. It is about control. Discipline. Mastery. Without those, power is nothing more than chaos waiting to happen."

Her words landed heavily, each one striking a chord deep within you. She was right, of course. You had been reckless, desperate to prove yourself worthy in her eyes. And in doing so, you had failed not only her but yourself.

"I'm sorry," you said, the admission leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Lesso tilted her head slightly, her expression softening—not with kindness, but with understanding. "Sorry is a start. But it is not enough. Not for someone like you."

The weight of her words settled over you like a cloak, heavy but not unbearable. There was something in her tone, something almost... hopeful. As though she wanted you to succeed, even if she couldn't admit it outright.

"What do you want me to do?" you asked, your voice steadier now.

Lesso stepped closer, her emerald eyes locking onto yours. "Learn," she said simply. "From your mistakes, from your triumphs, from the world around you. And when you falter—and you will—do not let it break you. Let it make you stronger."

Her words lingered in the air, a challenge and a promise all at once.

"I will," you said, your voice firm with resolve.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, charged with an intensity that made your heart race. And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the moment was over.

Lesso stepped back, the sharp click of her cane breaking the stillness. "Return to your lessons, Miss Y/N," she said, her tone once again cool and authoritative. "And remember—potential is only as valuable as the effort you put into cultivating it."

You nodded, your chest tight with a mix of nerves and determination. "Yes, Professor Lesso."

She inclined her head, her fiery red hair catching the dim light as she turned and walked away, her cane tapping rhythmically against the stone floor.

As you made your way back to the dining hall, your mind raced with her words, her presence, the unshakable weight of her expectations. There was no denying it now—you wanted her approval. You needed it.

But as you slid back into your seat and ignored the curious stares of your classmates, you couldn't help but wonder if her expectations would ever feel like enough.