The blue flame danced in my palm, casting an ethereal glow across the stunned faces surrounding me. The competition hall had fallen into a deafening silence, broken only by the soft crackle of my azure fire.
Elias Ainsworth's face had turned ashen, his earlier smugness evaporated like morning dew. His eyes, wide with disbelief, reflected the blue glow of my flame.
"That's... that's impossible," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Blue Spirit Fire? That can't be..."
From the judges' table, Desmond Davenport half-rose from his seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge. The look on his face—a mixture of shock, fear, and rage—was almost worth all the trouble I'd been through.
An elderly judge with a long white beard stepped forward, adjusting his spectacles as he peered at my palm. "In all my years..." he murmured, shaking his head in wonder.
"What does it mean?" someone in the audience asked, breaking the silence. "Why is everyone so shocked?"
