A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs-Chapter 194: Vice Chancellor Ilyra Vane

{Elira}

~**^**~

Cambria squeezed my hand. "Elira, whatever it is, you will handle it well like you always do."

I tried to breathe past the sudden tightness in my chest and nodded. "Yeah. You’re right. I will just wait and see."

After breakfast, we gathered our trays and left the cafeteria together, laughter and chatter from other tables echoing around us.

But my mind was elsewhere—the vice chancellor’s calm face during assemblies, her poised voice, her sharp gaze that missed nothing.

’Why would she want to see me?’

By the time I reached the hallway, the question still hadn’t settled. I stopped by a window, pulling out my phone.

My reflection in the glass looked more nervous than I wanted to admit. Quickly, I pulled up Zenon’s contact and typed,

"Good morning, Professor Zenon. The Vice Chancellor just summoned me during lunch. I’m not sure why. Thought I should let you know."

I stared at the screen for a second, debating whether to add ’I’m nervous’, but decided against it. Zenon didn’t need my emotions—just the facts.

Still, when I hit send, I felt a flicker of relief, like I had passed a heavy weight to someone else who could carry it.

I slid my phone back into my pocket and headed toward my classroom. Even as I reached the door, my hands felt oddly clammy.

When I stepped inside, the chatter dipped almost immediately. Heads turned. I didn’t even need to guess why.

The whispers about ’Elira Shaw, the Omega who isn’t really an Omega’, had spread faster than wildfire after the last duel.

I kept my gaze forward, pretending not to notice the curious glances, and made my way to my usual seat at the back.

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, drawing gold stripes across my desk as I sat down and tried to breathe normally.

Just then, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out quickly, half-expecting a message from one of my friends—but it was from Zenon.

"There’s nothing to worry about. If the vice chancellor called you, it isn’t to reprimand you. Stay calm."

My shoulders loosened a little as I read it again. His words were short, typical of him—straightforward and clipped, but they grounded me all the same.

If Zenon said not to worry, then maybe I could stop imagining the worst.

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of my lips before I set the phone down on the desk, screen facing up.

Just then, the classroom doors opened, and a female professor strode in, holding a stack of neatly bound notes, her sharp gaze sweeping across the room.

"All right, everyone, settle down," she said briskly, placing the notes on her table. "Let’s continue where we left off on Monday."

Immediately, books and tablets shuffled open around me as I grabbed my mine.

---

The bell chimed softly, signalling the end of the first class.

I gathered my books with hands that felt oddly heavy, ignoring the lingering buzz of chatter around me.

My pulse had been pacing ahead of me all morning, and it only quickened now that it was time.

At my locker, I slid my notebook and pen inside, took a steadying breath, and tapped on my smartwatch. Next, I looked for the direction to the vice chancellor’s office.

A small holographic map appeared above the screen, tracing a glowing path from the academic building to the administrative wing on the far east side of campus.

I stared at the digital line for a heartbeat longer than necessary before finally moving.

Outside, the sun had climbed higher, spilling light across the courtyards and tall glass windows of ESA.

The air smelled faintly of distant pine—normally calming, but not today. My stomach twisted tighter with every step.

Students passed me on their way to lunch, their laughter and conversations blurring together.

I clutched my phone in one hand, glancing at the time every few seconds as though the minutes might somehow change their minds about where I was going.

When I finally reached the administrative building, the change in atmosphere was immediate.

Quiet. Polished. Every step echoed against marble floors, the faint scent of lavender polish filling the air.

Behind a wide wooden desk sat a woman in neat silver-rimmed glasses, her blonde hair pulled into a low bun.

She looked up from her screen the second I approached and smiled warmly, her tone as composed as her appearance.

"Miss Elira Shaw," she said, as though she’d been expecting me all along. "The vice chancellor will see you now."

I blinked. "She’s... waiting for me already?"

"Yes." The secretary stood gracefully and gestured for me to follow. "This way, please."

I nodded, my throat dry, and fell into step behind her.

The quiet click of her heels against the floor filled the corridor, and each sound seemed to echo through my chest.

We stopped before a tall mahogany door with an engraved silver plaque: Vice Chancellor.

The secretary turned to me, her expression kind. "Go right in."

I swallowed hard, nodded again, and gently pushed the door open.

The vice chancellor’s office was warm, elegant—soft light spilling through tall arched windows, dust motes drifting lazily through the air. A faint scent of tea leaves lingered, sharp but calming.

Behind the broad oak desk sat Vice Chancellor Ilyra Vane, her silver hair pulled into a low twist, her eyes—strikingly pale—lifting from a document as I entered.

They held a kind of quiet power, the sort that didn’t need to demand attention because it already owned the room.

"Miss Shaw," she said, her voice even but carrying that unmistakable tone of command that made you stand straighter without realizing it. "Please, have a seat."

I obeyed immediately, my palms resting flat on my knees to steady their tremor.

She studied me for a few seconds longer than felt comfortable, then set her pen down. "You must be wondering why I asked to see you."

I nodded, my voice coming out softer than I intended. "Yes, ma’am."

Her lips quirked in what might’ve been a faint smile. "Word spreads quickly in ESA—sometimes faster than the truth itself. I’ve been hearing your name quite a lot lately."

My throat tightened. "I hope it’s not because of trouble."

That earned a small chuckle from her, delicate but real. "Trouble? No. On the contrary, you’ve managed to capture the attention of nearly everyone here, Miss Shaw. A first-year Omega who keeps winning every duel in the combat elimination rounds."

The word ’Omega’ lingered between us.

Then, her gaze sharpened—piercing and discerning. "But you are no Omega."

My breath hitched, my pulse skipping.

She leaned back in her chair, studying me as though seeing beneath my skin. "Even though it be subtle," she said slowly, "I can see that small fire in you."

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. I opened my mouth to speak, but she lifted a hand gently, stopping me before I could find the words.

"There was once another student in ESA," she continued, her tone turning almost nostalgic. "A young woman who made a name for herself in combat. Her duels were legendary. She fought with such intensity that even the instructors whispered about her long after she graduated. That name has never been forgotten since then."

Something in the way she said it made my heart stutter. A quiet, inevitable realization began to form.

’She is talking about her... my mother.’

The vice chancellor’s eyes flicked back to me. "Tell me, Miss Shaw... what about your parents?"

The question hit me like a slight, cold shock. I shifted in my seat, unsure why the answer suddenly felt heavy on my tongue. "They are both... gone," I said carefully.

"I know," she said, her voice gentling. "I was asking about their names."

For a heartbeat, the room felt too still. The light from the window glinted faintly off her pen, catching in her pale eyes.

I swallowed, then whispered, "Kathryn Morgan and Elias Shaw."

For a heartbeat, the silence in the room felt alive.

Vice Chancellor Ilyra’s composure faltered, just slightly, but enough for me to see the faintest flicker crossed her face—recognition, then something more profound, older.

Her lips parted, and she leaned back in her chair, blinking once as though she needed to process what I had just said.

"Did you say... Kathryn Morgan?"

I nodded, uncertain. "Yes. My mother."

Her pale eyes widened for a fraction of a second—then softened, and a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh slipped past her lips. "By the Goddess... I should have known."

"You knew her?" My brows furrowed.

"Knew her?" Her smile deepened, touched with something nostalgic and proud. "Kathryn Morgan wasn’t merely a student here. She was ESA’s pride and brightest flame. The youngest in her year to ever top the Combat and Strategy division."

Then, her tone grew warmer as she spoke, a glimmer of admiration lighting her expression.

"Your mother had a gift that couldn’t be taught. She fought with precision and patience—never wasted a strike, never raised her power unless it was necessary. I taught her myself for two years, and even then, she often left me speechless."