The Heiress: War For The Throne

Chapter Title: First Step Into Power

After what felt like an eternity, I finally stood in front of the administration block.

"This is it," the girl said, pointing ahead before walking off without so much as a glance back. Her footsteps echoed for a while before fading into the distance. I watched her figure shrink into a blur, then disappear entirely.

I turned to face the building ahead. The administration block was huge — sleek, modern, and intimidating. Its glass-paneled exterior gleamed under the sun, reflecting the world around it in fractured, shifting pieces. It reminded me of something out of a corporate headquarters. Cold. Calculating. Unforgiving. Nothing about it felt welcoming.

But that's okay, I told myself, squaring my shoulders. I'm not here to be welcomed. I'm here to win.

The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss, and I stepped inside. Cool air brushed over my skin, sharp and crisp like freshly cut paper. The faint scent of polish and new leather lingered in the air. The kind of smell that told you people with important lives and even more important schedules moved through here every day.

I glanced around, taking in the space. The floors were marble, so smooth that I could see my reflection staring back at me — small, wide-eyed, and already out of place. I swallowed the doubt creeping into my throat. No. Not today.

I turned my gaze upward, scanning the vast open space of the foyer. Somewhere at the far end, behind a long, glossy counter, I saw her. A woman. Sharp suit. Impeccably styled hair. The kind of person who didn't need to say "I'm in charge" because everything about her already screamed it.

I was still looking at her when she spoke.

"Ahem."

The sound wasn't loud, but it was deliberate. Precise. The sound of control. It echoed just once but it might as well have been a thunderclap. I stiffened on instinct, like a kid caught doing something wrong. Slowly, I turned to face her fully.

Her gaze met mine, unflinching, unwavering. She raised an arched brow, her eyes sharp behind a pair of thin-framed glasses. Her nails, painted a deep red, tapped lightly against the surface of the counter. Once. Twice. No more. Enough to let me know she was waiting.

"Are you planning to stand there all day, or do you have a purpose for being here?" she asked, her tone cool, clipped, and as sharp as the click of her nails. She didn't even look up from the screen she was typing on.

For half a second, I felt my heart spike.

"Say something, Ann. Don't freeze."

"Um, I'm here to complete my enrollment," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.

She finally looked up. Her eyes scanned me — head to toe — just once, but I could feel her assessment settle into my bones. She leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and tilted her head like she'd seen my type before. Like she already knew everything she needed to know.

"Name?"

"Ann. Ann Armstrong."

Her fingers moved across the keyboard with a quick, rhythmic click-click-click. Her eyes flicked back to the screen. Her gaze stayed there a moment longer than I expected, her lips pursing just slightly.

"Ah, the scholarship student." Her voice carried something I couldn't quite place — surprise, curiosity, or maybe doubt. I couldn't tell.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, straightening my back. My voice came out firmer than before. I didn't like how she said "scholarship student" — like it was a label, not an achievement.

Her eyes darted back to me, and for a moment, it felt like she was about to say something more. But she didn't. She just pressed a final key and stood.

"Follow me," she said, turning on her heel. No pause. No glance back. I hurried to keep up.

Each step up the staircase felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on my shoulders. The secretary led the way, her heels clacking sharply against the marble floor with a steady, unbothered rhythm. I tried to match her calm, but my heart had its own frantic tempo, each beat growing louder the higher we climbed.

When we reached the top floor, she stopped abruptly, and so did I. There it was — a door unlike any other I'd seen in the academy. It wasn't just a door; it was a statement. Tall, wide, and framed in sleek, dark wood polished to a mirror-like sheen. In the center, etched in bold, gold lettering, was a single, unyielding word:

"Principal."

Power radiated from it like heat from a furnace. My palms grew clammy. This isn't just a door, I thought. It's a threshold. Cross it, and nothing stays the same.

I sucked in a breath, sharp and deliberate, filling my lungs with resolve. My fingers curled into fists at my sides. The secretary didn't look at me, didn't ask if I was ready. She simply gripped the handle, twisted, and pushed the door open like she'd done it a thousand times before.

The air inside was different. Thicker. Heavier. It clung to my skin like static before a storm.

For a second, I hesitated, my body frozen in the doorway. My mind whispered a familiar lie — You're not ready for this.

But then I heard it — Ariel's voice, clear as day in my head: "Be the unshakable force, Ann. Make them see."

I stepped forward. The door shut behind me with a soft, final click.

No turning back now.There was no mistaking it. No undoing it.

The world outside that door was gone, and I had just walked into a battlefield and I never going down or defeated.

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