The entire school buzzed with anticipation.
The Regal Heights Annual Talent Festival wasn't just an event—it was the event. An elite affair, sponsored by top art investors, fashion moguls, and alumni who walked the halls of success. The auditorium had been transformed into something out of a dream. Crystal chandeliers glimmered overhead. Velvet curtains framed the stage. Cameras rolled. Important guests filled the front rows.
Backstage, Liana stood still, her palms clammy, heart racing. Her easel and canvas were prepped. Her paints were lined up, every brush exactly where it needed to be. But none of that stopped the tremble in her fingers.
"Breathe," she whispered to herself.
Bianca stood nearby, offering an encouraging smile, though her eyes flickered elsewhere—especially toward the front rows where the Vipers were seated. Specifically, toward him.
Liana didn't notice. She was focused now. Her name was called.
"Next on stage—Liana Hart, presenting a live painting performance titled From the Ashes."
A hush fell as she walked onto the stage. The lights dimmed, and soft instrumental music began to play—violin mixed with piano, haunting and beautiful. Liana took her brush and began to paint.
The canvas came alive slowly. Her strokes were bold, yet graceful—deep reds, blacks, and golds merging into chaotic swirls that slowly took shape.
A bird.
But not just any bird—a phoenix. Wings extended in mid-flight, eyes sharp, feathers catching fire and light. Around it, shadows loomed—dark figures meant to symbolize mockery, betrayal, fear.
The crowd watched in silence, breath held.
Each movement of her brush was emotion—rage, resilience, pain, beauty. The performance wasn't just art—it was a story. Her story.
She didn't look at anyone, not even once. But Xavier couldn't take his eyes off her.
He sat forward in his seat, the usual cold edge in his eyes gone, replaced with something warmer…something soft.
He didn't notice when Zayn whispered something to him. Didn't care when Adrien glanced sideways in confusion. He was transfixed.
And when Liana stepped back, placed the final golden streak at the phoenix's chest, and the spotlight bathed the canvas in warm light—something shifted.
The applause was deafening.
Even the judges looked stunned.
Somewhere in the crowd, a woman whispered, "That girl… she's brilliant."
Liana gave a small bow and walked offstage with her chin up. Her hands still shook, but her heart… oh, her heart felt light.
Back in the crowd, Xavier stood.
Clapping.
He didn't even realize it.
But someone else did—Bianca. And the way her face stiffened wasn't missed by the quiet voice inside her that whispered jealousy.
The festival continued, but for Liana, the moment was sealed.
When the lights had come on, she hadn't just performed.
She had claimed her space.