Cracks in Her Armor
The nightmares didn’t stop.
Stella’s world was dark, the stars around her blinking out one by one. She ran through the void, her footsteps echoing in the emptiness, but no matter how fast she moved, she couldn’t stop it. Each star that died sent a searing pain through her chest, like a knife twisting deeper with every loss.
“You can’t save them.”
The voice was cold, distant, and far too familiar. Stella spun around, her breath hitching.
From the shadows emerged a figure — tall, regal, and painfully beautiful. Her mother.
Luna’s expression was devoid of warmth, her golden eyes sharp as the sun. “You’re weak, Stella. You always have been.”
“No,” Stella whispered, shaking her head. “I — I tried. I fought — ”
“And you failed,” Luna interrupted, her tone cutting. “You let them die.”
Behind her, Stella saw the others — her friends, her family — standing motionless, their faces blank and lifeless. Their stars flickered above them, dim and fragile, ready to collapse.
“Stop!” Stella screamed, reaching for them, but her mother stepped in her path, blocking her.
“You think you’re a leader?” Luna’s voice was a blade, sharp and unforgiving. “You couldn’t even protect the people you loved.”
The stars collapsed, one by one, until there was nothing left but darkness.
Stella woke with a choked sob, her body trembling. She pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to steady her breathing, but it was no use. The bond flared, her emotions spilling over, and she felt the others stir around her.
“Stella?” Flora’s voice was soft and groggy, but it carried a thread of concern.
“I’m fine,” Stella whispered hoarsely, though her shaking hands betrayed her.
“You’re not fine.” This time, it was Aisha, her voice firm and grounding.
The others didn’t say anything, but she felt their presence pressing against her, their emotions weaving into hers. Concern. Sadness. Exhaustion.
“Guys, seriously. Go back to sleep,” Stella muttered, her tone sharper than she intended.
Bloom sat up, her fiery hair glowing faintly in the moonlight streaming through the window. “We’re not going to pretend this isn’t happening, Stella. You’re not okay. None of us are.”
Stella’s jaw tightened. “We don’t have a choice. We just have to deal with it.”
“Shoving it down isn’t ‘dealing,’” Musa said dryly, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
Stella snapped. “What do you want me to do, Musa? Break down? Cry? 'Cause guess what — that won’t fix anything!”
The room fell into tense silence. The bond buzzed with unspoken words, emotions swirling in a tangled mess.
Finally, Flora reached out and touched Stella’s hand, her touch soft but grounding. “We’re not asking you to fix anything, Stella. We just. . .don’t want you to do it alone.”
The words hit harder than Stella expected, and for a moment, her walls cracked. She closed her eyes, exhaling shakily.
“I don’t want to feel this anymore,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
The next morning was no better.
Stella walked into the dining hall, her head held high, but the weight of the stares felt heavier than ever. She could hear their whispers, feel their judgment pressing against her like a physical force.
“Did you see how close they were sitting yesterday? It’s like they can’t function without touching.”
“They’re so weird. It’s like they think they’re better than everyone else.”
“Princess Stella always did act like she was above us. I bet she brought the others down with her.”
The bond vibrated with her friends’ discomfort, but Stella shoved it down, plastering on a fake smile as they moved to their usual table.
“Let them talk,” Bloom said, her voice low but steady. “They don’t know anything about us.”
“Yeah,” Musa added with a smirk. “If they did, they’d run screaming.”
The others chuckled, but the tension didn’t lift.
By the time their next class rolled around, Stella’s patience was wearing thin.
They were in Convergence Magic, practicing basic team spells, and the instructor had paired them with a group of second-years.
“Alright,” the professor said, clapping her hands. “I want you to focus on synchronizing your magic. The more in tune you are, the stronger your spells will be.”
Stella exchanged a glance with Bloom, who smirked. Synchronizing? Please.
The second-years looked at them with thinly veiled disdain. “Try not to hold us back,” one of them said, her tone condescending.
Stella’s temper flared, but Aisha placed a hand on her arm, grounding her.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Aisha muttered.
The group began their spell, their magic weaving together in a complex pattern. But it didn’t take long for things to go wrong.
The second-years’ magic faltered, clashing with the overwhelming strength of the Winx’s power. The bond pulsed, their emotions bleeding into the spell, and the resulting surge of energy was too much to contain.
The spell exploded, sending a shockwave through the room.
The second-years stumbled back, their faces pale with shock. “What the hell was that?!” one of them demanded.
The professor frowned, her gaze sharp as she turned to look at the Winx. “Girls, a word outside. Now.”
The lecture was brief but pointed.
“You need to learn to control yourselves,” the professor said, her tone stern. “Your magic is unbalanced, and it’s affecting everyone around you.”
Stella clenched her fists, biting back a retort. It wasn’t their fault — they couldn’t help that their magic was too much for this place, too much for their younger bodies to handle.
As they walked back to their dorm, the bond hummed with frustration and unease.
“We’re going to get kicked out at this rate,” Musa muttered.
“Let them try,” Stella said, her voice cold. “We don’t need them. We never did.”
But even as she said the words, she felt the weight of their situation pressing down on her.
They didn’t belong here.
And the longer they stayed, the more they realized just how much they’d lost.
The dorm was quiet that night, but the silence was suffocating. They tried to settle into their beds, but the bond buzzed with unease, emotions flickering between them like restless moths drawn to a flame.
Stella rolled onto her side, facing Bloom’s bed across the room. “How do we keep doing this?” she asked softly.
Bloom opened her eyes, the faint glow of her magic visible in the dark. “Doing what?”
“Pretending.” Stella’s voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep herself together. “Pretending we’re fine. Pretending we can just. . .go back to this.”
Musa let out a heavy sigh from her bed. “We don’t have much of a choice, do we? We’re stuck here.”
“But it’s not right,” Stella pressed, sitting up. “None of this is. We’re not who we were back then. We’re. . .” She trailed off, struggling to find the words.
“Broken,” Tecna supplied quietly.
The word hung in the air, heavy and unspoken until now.
Stella didn’t deny it.
“I don’t think I can keep doing this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “The nightmares, the stares, the bond — it’s all too much.”
Flora got out of her bed, crossing the room to sit beside Stella. She placed a hand on her shoulder, her touch warm and grounding. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
“I know,” Stella said, her voice trembling. “But sometimes it feels like even with all of you, I’m still drowning.”
Bloom sat up, her fiery hair messy but her expression determined. “We’ll figure this out, Stella. We always do.”
“But what if we don’t?” Stella snapped, her frustration boiling over. “What if this time, we can’t fix it? What if we’re just. . .stuck here, slowly falling apart until there’s nothing left of us?”
The bond surged, the weight of her emotions pressing down on all of them. She could feel their sadness, their fear, their exhaustion — it was overwhelming.
“We won’t let that happen,” Aisha said firmly, standing and crossing her arms. “We’ve been through worse. This? This is just another obstacle.”
“But it’s not just an obstacle, is it?” Tecna’s voice was cold, cutting through the room. “We’re not adapting. Our magic is unstable, we’re drawing too much attention, and we can’t even sleep without reliving everything we’ve been through. At this rate, we’re going to implode.”
The words hit like a slap, but no one argued.
Flora squeezed Stella’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” she said softly. “Together.”
Stella let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Together.”
The next morning, the tension from the night before still lingered as they entered the dining hall. The stares felt heavier, the whispers louder, but none of them said a word.
They sat at their usual table, the bond humming with quiet determination. Stella forced herself to eat, even as the weight of the room pressed down on her.
But then something shifted.
She felt it first — a ripple in the bond, faint but insistent. The others felt it too, their heads snapping up in unison.
“What was that?” Musa asked, her voice low.
“I don’t know,” Bloom said, her eyes narrowing. “But it’s coming from over there.”
She gestured toward the far end of the dining hall, where a group of witches was sitting.
Stella’s chest tightened as she recognized one of them — the same witch who had been staring at them yesterday. This time, the witch wasn’t alone. Two others flanked her, their expressions sharp and calculating.
The bond surged with unease, and Stella’s hands clenched into fists.
“They’re watching us,” Aisha muttered.
“Let them,” Stella said through gritted teeth.
“No,” Tecna said, her voice sharp. “This isn’t just casual curiosity. They know something.”
The witch in the center smirked, as if she could hear them.
Stella’s heart pounded, her magic sparking at her fingertips. She wanted to confront them, to demand answers, but something held her back — a sense of foreboding she couldn’t shake.
“We need to be careful,” Flora said, her voice calm but firm.
“Careful doesn’t solve anything,” Musa shot back.
“It does if it keeps us alive,” Flora countered.
The bond buzzed with tension, but none of them made a move.
For now, they would watch and wait.
But deep down, Stella knew this was only the beginning.
Something was coming.
And this time, they might not be ready for it.