Here's your scene rewritten in novel format with deeper emotion, vivid description, and a flowing narrative tone:
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Chapter Title: Fractured Fire (optional—let me know if you want a different one)
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Morning – Canteen, Eclipse Academy
The canteen buzzed with life—laughter, footsteps, and the clinking of cutlery layered over a low hum of chatter. At a corner table, Tara sat with Nadia, Rose, and Jisa, her thoughts half-drowned in the noise around her.
"When are you going to meet Mr. Rayan?" Nadia asked, chewing on a piece of toast, her voice casual but her eyes too focused.
"In the afternoon," Tara replied without looking up.
Jisa raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Tara said again, firmer this time.
They finished breakfast and began the slow walk toward class. Midway, Principal Z appeared, walking with the calm authority that always made Tara's shoulders stiffen.
"Tara, how are things going for you?" His tone was measured, too gentle to be casual.
Jisa offered a quick smile. "You finish talking, we'll join you in the classroom."
Tara gave a polite nod. "Everything's okay, sir."
Principal Z studied her for a moment, then asked, "I heard about you from Jisa. What about your parents? Are they alright?"
Tara paused. Her voice was soft, guarded. "Yeah, sir. They're fine."
He gave a short nod. "If there's ever a problem, feel free to come to me."
She murmured something in return and walked on, the weight of that short exchange lingering far longer than the words.
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Training Room
Miss Lipy stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, lips drawn into a hard line. Tara slipped in, but the cold air of the room was nothing compared to the chill in Miss Lipy's voice.
"Late again? Do you think training is optional, Miss Tara? This is survival—not a hobby."
"Principal Z called her, ma'am," Nadia intervened quickly.
Miss Lipy didn't flinch. "Go to the training yard. Mr. Rayan's expecting you. He'll handle your session today."
Tara gave a small sigh and exited silently.
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Training Yard
The sun cast long, golden beams across the dirt. Mr. Rayan stood in the middle, arms behind his back, a too-warm smile on his face.
"Hi, Tara," he greeted.
She returned a slight nod, unsure.
"See that guy?" he said, motioning toward a tall, lean figure practicing sword moves. "That's Neyon. He'll help you train."
Tara walked over. Neyon lowered his sword and eyed her with a smirk.
"So it's you."
She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer. "I'll attack. You defend. Ready?"
They began. Tara struggled—her movements off, her sword too heavy, like it didn't belong in her hands.
"It's so heavy. My own sword's not that heavy," she muttered.
"Follow my instructions, girl."
She shot him a glare. "I have a name, you know."
He extended a hand. "Neyon."
She shook it, eyebrows raised. "Tara."
He grinned. "Now, girl—move the sword like this."
"Still calling me 'girl'?"
Neyon only smirked again.
From a distance, Arib watched. His jaw clenched. His eyes darkened.
Neyon tilted his head. "Boyfriend?"
Tara followed Arib's gaze, but he turned away.
"No," she said quickly.
"Let's go again. Defense."
The rest of the training flew by in a blur of missed strikes and bruised pride.
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On the Way to Her Room
Tara walked alone, breath fogging slightly in the cool afternoon air.
Was he… jealous?
No. Don't think like that. Focus, Tara. Focus.
"Tara!"
She stopped. Arib stood behind her, hands in his pockets, trying too hard to look casual.
"Let's have lunch together."
"Okay," she said cautiously. "Canteen?"
"No." He smiled faintly. "Somewhere else."
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Small Restaurant in Town
Arib's bike purred beneath them as they rode into town. They stopped at a small eatery tucked between aging buildings. The sign above was faded, but the warm scent of grilled meat and fresh bread greeted them like an old friend.
An old man behind the counter looked up, smiling. "Grandpa," Arib said, "bring what I usually have. Make it two."
The man winked. "Got it!"
Tara glanced around. "Feels like you two know each other."
"Over ten years," the old man said proudly. "Never seen him with a girl, though."
Tara laughed lightly. "I feel special now."
Arib didn't smile. "Mom and I used to come here. She's gone now. When I miss her… I come here."
Tara's expression softened. "I'm glad you brought me."
They ate in silence for a moment, and then:
"Tara," Arib said, suddenly serious, "please decline the deal."
"You'll be with me, right?"
"What?"
She cleared her throat. "I mean—when I try to release the stone."
"I'll be there. But think again."
"I already did." She looked down at her food. "Now let me eat in peace."
A beat.
"From tomorrow," he said, "train with me—not Neyon."
Tara grinned. "Are you jealous?"
Arib frowned. "It's not funny."
She laughed—freely, for the first time in a while. He looked at her like he was seeing a new version of her. He smiled.
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Evening – Mr. Rayan's Backyard
Mr. Rayan walked ahead, his expression unreadable. The moon hung low, veiled in cloud.
"Go inside," he said, gesturing toward an old wooden door hidden behind vines. "You'll find a stone. Bring it to me."
That was all.
The door creaked open. It led into a narrow underground passage, lit only by dimly glowing moss. The air was damp and heavy. Only Tara and Jisa entered; the space was too tight for more.
At the center of the cave-like room lay the stone—dark, smooth, almost breathing in the quiet.
Tara stepped forward.
"Don't come near," she warned. "Something feels wrong."
"I can help," Jisa said gently.
"You'll burn," Tara said, eyes locked on the stone. "I'm the Fireborn."
The stone pulsed faintly, reacting to her voice. Tara's hand moved toward it—but before her fingers touched the surface—
A scream.
Blinding pain.
Tara staggered backward. Blood gushed from her side. She looked down, eyes wide.
Jisa stood before her, holding a knife soaked in red.
"Why?" Tara gasped, pain laced in every syllable. "Why...?"
Jisa's face was unreadable. The stone glowed darker, as if feeding on betrayal.
And Tara fell.