Chapter 11 - Actions & Consequences

Selena sank into the high-backed chair by the hearth, the cushions molding to her frame. The heat from the flames kissed her legs through the fabric of her robes, warming her in slow pulses, but it wasn’t enough to fully chase away the chill of the evening. She exhaled through her nose, long and quiet, and let her head rest against the chair’s curve, the tension in her shoulders slowly beginning to unwind.

It had been a long day.

Not unusually long, just busy. One of those days where the minutes didn’t feel like they passed, so much so that they stacked themselves on top of her until she was carrying the weight of twelve hours in every joint. Her lessons had taken most of the morning, and as always, they demanded focus and precision. Emotional magic was a thread spun from tension, and following a class through its use without letting their feelings spiral into chaos required more than intellect—it required patience and poise.

All of that was done before factoring in Elara.

Selena’s eyes flicked toward the corridor leading to the girls’ dorm. It had been easier to manage her earlier in the day, when the girl was more receptive. But the longer the day wore on, Elara’s true colors began to show. And they would continue to do so, again and again, until either Elara bent fully… or burned out.

Selena’s lips thinned.

There was a pride in her, a defiance she recognized all too well. And it made everything more complicated.

She shifted slightly in her seat, hearing a whisper of padding, a soft resistance that had become part of her world long ago. She ignored it; it was just another thread in the weave of her life. No one needed to know, and those who did knew better than to bring it up.

The pendant around her neck began to glow softly. It was a small, dark sapphire etched with a single emotion-binding rune, lit with inner light like the first crack of dawn.

Selena’s lips twisted, halfway between amusement and frustration.

Of course. Her baby’s feelings were flaring again.

She reached up and pressed a finger lightly to the pendant, channeling a pulse of calming influence. Nothing invasive. Just enough to take the edge off whatever spike Elara was experiencing, whether fear, embarrassment, or fatigue. That was what the pendant was for, not control.

Still… she sighed.

This job was supposed to be easier. Her mind wandered back to her first assigned baby—meek, quiet, broken before she ever arrived. There had been no fire, no resistance, just slow routine, progress tracked in dry charts and messy diapers, nothing more. Elara, on the other hand, was a project.

Selena looked back toward the hallway once more, the fire crackling in the hearth beside her.

She knew she could break Elara. But a part of her. a part she refused to name. was starting to wonder if it would feel like victory when she finally did. The pendant around Selena’s neck pulsed again; the girl would simply not calm down.

With a sigh, Selena stood and strolled down the hallway, opening the door to Elara’s dorm. Her eyes fell on the girl in her crib, Elara’s hand was down her diaper. It only took Selena a moment to put the pieces together: the emotion she had been feeling, the guilty look on Elara’s face, the flush of her cheeks.

The sight enraged Selena, an emotional fire igniting within her. How dare her baby presume to reward herself when she had caused such chaos? When she had brought shame and attention to Selena's well-curated world? Selena had worked tirelessly to mold Elara into the perfect ward, a shining example of emotional control and magical precision. Yet, here Elara was, rebelling against the very foundations of their routine.

An angry, animalistic snarl escaped Selena's lips as she closed the distance between them. Elara's eyes widened, her small frame trembling as Selena grabbed the girl's hand and pulled it from her diaper.

Elara's cries are almost musical. Her eyes, wide and rimmed with unshed tears, plead for understanding and mercy. But Selena was beyond mercy at this point.

The spanking that followed was fierce, each blow landing with a satisfying smack upon the girl's exposed rear as Selena pulled her diaper down past the girl’s hips. Elara's cries become a desperate, whimpering sob, her body arching in an attempt to escape the stinging pain. But Selena's grip was unyielding.

As the punishment continued, Elara's cries lessened, and her energy was spent in a desperate, futile attempt to protect herself. Her tears, once hot and angry, cooled into a quiet misery, a resigned acceptance of her fate.

The spanking finally ended, Selena’s breathing was ragged as she leaned back, her baby's exhausted form lying limp over her lap as Selena pulled Elara’s diaper back into place. She looked down at the broken girl, her expression a mix of satisfaction and something more complex, a hint of sadness lurking beneath the anger.

Elara, her body shaking, sniffled quietly as Selena stroked the girl’s back in a soft, almost maternal way. "You will not play with yourself without my permission. Do you understand?"

Elara was too weak to respond, but she managed a resigned nod. Selena sighed as she gently lifted Elara, cradling her close as her fingers wove an intricate rune over Elara’s midsection. The girl squirmed and whimpered, but Selena didn’t relent. The rune would prevent exploring fingers, and even if Elara managed to break through, this new rune would ensure the girl felt nothing. Selena would not allow a repeat of tonight.

Selena kissed the top of Elara’s head. “Mommy still loves you, sweetheart, but babies need to learn their place,” she said, lifting the girl back into the crib and standing.

Elara refused to meet Selena’s eyes as Selena tucked her in once more. She studied the girl for a few more moments, locking the side of the crib back in place, before turning and leaving the room.

Selena stepped out and shut the door, her hand lingering on the knob just long enough to feel the finality of the click.

Her boots whispered across the floor as she made her way toward her quarters, her mind already drifting ahead. She needed tea, a warm bath, and fresh clothes. Her body felt grimy and clammy, a reminder of how little attention she’d paid to her own needs while dealing with Elara all afternoon. The girl was beginning to fill her thoughts like a stubborn melody.

She didn’t hear the voice at first.

“Miss Virelle,” it came again, more clearly this time, clipped and expectant. “I’d like a word with you.”

Selena stopped mid-step, one brow lifting as she turned.

The headmistress of Ruby House stood in the threshold of her office, one hand on the doorframe, the other gesturing inward with the gentle weight of expectation. Her robes were immaculate—deep burgundy silk with gold piping, her silver hair swept into a crown-like braid that never once seemed to fall out of place. A woman whose reputation never required raising her voice.

Selena pivoted smoothly and walked toward her, her expression pleasant but unreadable.

The headmistress closed the door behind her with the softest click. “Sit.”

The chair across from the oversized desk was more comfortable than it looked, and Selena folded into it without hesitation. Her gaze flicked once left, then right, taking in the office with that unthinking precision she’d learned over years of being observed. Shelves labeled with student reports, bookshelves filled with novels. But it was the changing table tucked behind a standing divider, just barely in view, that caught her eye. Diapering supplies, stacks of folded garments.

“We have a problem,” the woman began, not even waiting for pleasantries. “Your house cup standings.”

Selena’s brow twitched just slightly.

“We’re behind,” the headmistress continued. “Not dramatically, not yet. But your first-year—your baby—is lagging behind her Sapphire and Emerald peers in magical discipline, structure, and presentation. You’re one of our best, Selena. One of our most promising. We cannot afford for you to jeopardize this year’s competition.”

Selena resisted the urge to sigh. Instead, she tilted her head. “With all due respect, Headmistress, I’ve been implementing the standard adjustment protocol. Emotional dampening, scheduled regressions, training charts—”

The woman held up a hand. “Standard may not be enough.”

The headmistress pulled a thin, red-spined booklet from her drawer. She set it down on the desk between them and slid it forward with two fingers.

“New practices. Updated from the Ruby trials last term. More intensive care structures. Behavioral binding layered with identity reinforcement.”

Selena’s eyes dropped to the title stamped across the top.

The Regressive Arc: Adaptive Training for Developing, Training, and Breaking New Babies.

She didn’t reach for it immediately. She let it sit between them for a breath. Then two. And then, only when she sensed the conversation would not move forward until she did, she picked it up and flipped through the first few pages.

Diagrams. Schedules. Mindset loops. Even a few case studies were annotated in tidy blue ink.

And then, midway through the book, a section caught her attention. Her lips curved slightly, not fully into a smile.

“You’re right,” Selena said, closing the booklet with a soft thump. “It’s time to try something new.”

The headmistress nodded once. “I expect to see a shift in tone by next week.”

“Oh, you will,” Selena said, rising to her feet. “I’ll make sure of it.”

She left the office with the booklet tucked beneath her arm, her stride longer than before, measured and certain. The hallway outside had not changed, but it felt different now—sharper, more focused.

She slipped into her quarters and spread the booklet open on her desk, pages rustling beneath her fingers. The old plan—routine pacification, gentle correction, and emotional suppression—had worked for weaker students. But Elara was something else. She needed more—more structure, more consequence, more definition.

Selena dipped her pen into a vial of shimmering red ink and began sketching new notes into the margins.

If Elara wanted to challenge her, that was fine.

Selena had just forgotten what game she was playing, and she had never played to lose.

Not when the cup was on the line.

Not when her baby was still fighting the inevitable.

Elara would become Mommy’s perfect little baby, whether she wanted to or not.