Inheritance Redefined

Chapter Twenty-Five

The school rink was still cloaked in early morning silence, the air crisp and laced with the faint scent of cold metal and pine resin from the boards. The arena lights buzzed faintly overhead, still warming to full strength.

Elara was already on the ice.

She wore her warm-up leggings and a faded blue hoodie with the sleeves tugged over her palms. Her blades glided effortlessly across the surface, carving gentle arcs in the quiet. She moved like music - light, unbothered, barely touching the ice.

On the far end of the rink, Elias Calviero pulled on his gloves, his helmet under one arm, and gave a sharp nod to Leo and Andre who approached him.

"Elara here yet?" Leo asked, stretching one leg out behind him lazily.

"Yeah," Elias muttered, watching her from under the brim of his cap. "She's always here before us."

And it was true.

Lately, Elara had been showing up to the rink just before sunrise. Sometimes she practiced spins. Sometimes she just skated quiet laps. Never in the way. Never loud. Like she belonged to the ice more than the world.

And no one really questioned it, especially not Coach Garcia.

"You three warm up," the coach barked, walking past the three boys with a clipboard. "And someone make sure Calviero's sister doesn't kill herself doing double axels before breakfast."

The three boys laughed under their breath.

Elara looped toward them, her cheeks flushed from the cold and movement.

"You're up early," Elias said casually.
"I could say the same about you," she replied.

Leo smirked. "Are you ever not graceful?"

"Only when I trip over my laces," Elara said.

Andre chuckled. "You gonna help us for real today, or just show off?"

Elara gave a small smile and shrugged. "Depends. You going to try keeping up?"

That got a laugh from all three of them. Elias cracked a grin.

Then the coach shouted again, and they all split - the boys went to their drills while Elara skated off to set up more.

There was something easy in the air. Familiar.

Coach Garcia watched the kids scatter - Elias and his teammates falling into drills with the sharp precision of boys used to being yelled at, and Elara skating backward after setting up some more drills, her arms stretched slightly, head tilted in thought as if measuring the air around her. There was something careful in the way she moved. Not hesitant. Calculated. Like someone raised to hear the difference between silence and applause.

He scribbled something on his clipboard, muttered under his breath, and then stepped onto the ice in his rink shoes without hesitation.

"Elara!" he called.

Elara's head turned, a light wisp of her hair escaping her hoodie as she slowed. She coasted toward him, blades whispering over the ice.

"Morning, Coach Garcia," she said cheerfully.

"You have a full routine ready?" he asked without preamble, eyes sharp beneath furrowed brows.

Elara blinked. "A routine? For...?"

Coach Garcia waved his clipboard as if that answered everything.

"For the opening game. First match of the season, five days from now. On Saturday. I want something sharp. Two, maybe three minutes before puck drop. Something with impact."