A blur of doors and corridors passed until Morgan’s companion hammered her hand on a door and let herself in.

“Hattie? What’s wrong—Oh my,” Frances raced around a desk and with a wave of her wand, levitated the books off of the bed. Morgan blinked. They seemed to be in a very generic teacher’s office with a single desk, a few chairs, a bookshelf and a bed. The only thing of note was an odd, cracked wooden staff, capped with silver on both ends, resting on several pillows on the desk.

A bed that Morgan was now finding herself tucked into by the two very concerned women.

“I—I’m fine,” Morgan stammered, trying to push away Hattie’s hands.

“You’ve gone pale!” Hattie exclaimed, grabbing onto Morgan’s trembling wrists.

“It’s just a stupid bell!” Morgan kicked the covers off and struggled upright. “I’ll be—” She set her feet down, and the world lurched underneath her. She fell to the floor, only to be caught by surprisingly toned arms. Frances hoisted her off the ground like a baby and gently lay her back on the bed, brushing her hair out of her face as she did so.

“What’s wrong with me?” Morgan whispered.

Frances, her hand still on Morgan’s forehead. opened her mouth, and paused. She turned to her oldest apprentice with a smile. “Hattie, you did an amazing job getting Morgan here, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Hattie smiled and bowed. “Thanks, Master.”

“Thank you, Hattie,” said Frances, watching as her student waved and left the room, closing the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, the Otherworlder looked down at Morgan, realizing that she was still gently caressing the harpy-troll’s forehead. “Ah, pardon me.”

For a moment, Morgan was glad that Frances had pulled her hand back. Except that feeling was quickly hollowed out by a coldness she didn’t expect.

“Morgan, you had a shock. I’m guessing when you heard the bell, you started to remember things that happened to you?”

Morgan nodded. “Why?

Frances smiled sadly. “People who’ve been hurt have triggers. It can be a sound, a word, or even a movement that brings back painful memories. I’m not sure why exactly, but it may have something to do with the fact that we haven’t really processed those memories, and that pain.”

“We?”

“Yes, I was hurt a long time ago and…” Frances shut her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage and resolve. “I still don’t like it when people touch me unexpectedly and especially when they touch my back.”

Morgan stared at Frances. This woman, who terrified the guards who’d imprisoned her, who walked through the magic of so many mages had a trigger?

“But how could someone hurt you? I mean, you’re the Stormcaller.”

Frances merely looked at Morgan, but to the harpy-troll, there was something very sad, and haunted about the way the woman’s brown eyes just settled on her.

“I was thirteen once too,” said Frances.

Simple words, but Morgan felt that she suddenly understood the woman by her bedside a lot more.

“What…what happened to you?” Morgan whispered.

Frances closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her. “I was hurt, kind of like you were. In a way, I was imprisoned. I could go out of my room, I could even go to school, but there was no escape. Every time I went home…I…” Bile rose in her throat and her body shook. Frances abruptly rose to her feet and strode to her desk, grabbing her flask and downing the contents. “Sorry, I…This used to be easier.”

Morgan stared, her eyes wide, unable to comprehend what she was seeing in front of her. “Easier?”

Frances sighed. “Telling people what happened to me. I’m sorry, Morgan. I just…not right now.”

“That’s okay,” Morgan stammered. “Thank you for trying. I…um, and thank you, for helping me with the trigger thingy.”

Frances blinked and smiled. “It’s called a panic attack, Morgan. The trigger is just what starts it.” Walking over to a small kettle on a stove at the side of her desk, Frances poured a cup of Hearthsange and handed it to the harpy-troll. “Drink, Hearthsange always made me feel better.”

Morgan took a sip and perhaps unsurprisingly, Frances was right. She normally didn’t like the sweet, cinnamon-y drink, but the warmth spread through her body, which she realized was actually kind of cold.

“Thanks. Um, when do I have to go back to class?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” said Frances. “Though, my lesson on self-defence training is going to start quite soon, so I’ll have to leave you in the office if you’d like to stay longer.”

“Self-defence training?”

“Yes, with magic and with weapons. We’re actually going to be doing a kind of obstacle course today.” Noticing Morgan’s eyes widen and her ears stiffen, Frances smiled. “Of course, you can participate if you’re feeling better.”

Despite the very obvious bait, Morgan could not resist.

----------------------------------------

Frances knew that obstacle courses didn’t always reflect real life battlefield conditions. They were far too controlled, and tended to make the people who ran them remember movements and patterns instead of growing instinct.

But that hadn’t been Edana’s goal when she’d ran Frances through battlefield training and through the dummy-battlefields at Salpheron. The goal with these courses had been to hone basic skills, and build the stamina of the participants.

Frances also believed that the course also gave the traumatised war orphans that made the bulk of the school’s students, a way for them to lo practice defending themselves in a controlled environment

This was why Frances had set up the course in the way she had on a field of rubble near the school. The first section simulated an attack under fire. A team of the most junior students, standing on the sidelines, would shoot blunted arrows, and low-powered magic bolts at teams of senior students, who would try to run across the field with some bits of cover. Harpy students weren’t allowed to fly over a certain height.

Ife the senior students made it across the field, they’d have to get across a very wide and muddy ditch and clamber over a wall. At this point, they were still going to be under fire from the junior students, but they were allowed shield spells at this point and harpies were allowed to fly up.

The team running the course then moved into a roughly built and very battered brick “urban” section meant to simulate a city home. The senior students had to find and knock out some wooden targets as quickly as they could, before moving out of the home and into the final part.

This was when the team of junior students had to defend the senior students, using the ruins at the very end of the course. The half-collapsed structures and pillars had been part of the Goblin Empire’s palace, but were now just ruins. The senior students would then be under a time limit to find their opponents and disable the personal safety shields they had. These safety rings were donated by Erlenberg, and were provided to all the participants. As an additional layer of safety, everybody was given gambeson and simple metal helmets for protection.

There was also a secret purpose to this test, which only Frances and the teachers of the school were privy to. It was also why she was very glad that Morgan wanted to participate.

For the first thing everybody had to do was find teammates. The junior students were allowed to have ten on their team, the senior students had to make do with teams of three to five. As always, Frances saw that Hattie simply sat off to the side of the field, waiting for the course to start.

Frances sighed. In all the times her first apprentice had run the course and its different variations, she’d run it alone. This time, however, would be different, for Morgan was now flying up to the scarred half-troll.

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Hattie tried to stop herself from making a face, or gawking, but from how Morgan seemed to tilt her head, she knew she wasn’t doing a good job of it.

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you, Morgan—”

The harpy-troll crossed her arms. “No you didn’t, I want to be on your team.”

Hattie winced. “You…you don’t want to be on my team.”

“Well whose team am I going to be on then? I don’t know anybody here but you and Frances, and she’s definitely not an option.”

“You were talking to Sely earlier—”

“He’s got his own team already, you’re ready and I know what you’re capable of.” Morgan sat down beside Hattie. “I’m in your team, deal with it.”

Hattie tried to form words, but only ended up looking away. She knew it was hopeless, averting her gaze from someone sitting right next to her. She wasn’t even sure why she was looking away, or why her cheeks felt so warm.

“Thanks,” she stammered.

“You’re welcome. So what do we have to look out for?” Morgan asked.

Hattie studied the teams forming and the team that was currently stepping up toward Frances. “I think it’s best if we watch first. You see, John, Diana and Sely are pretty strong together.”

Morgan narrowed her eyes. The centaur, who had a palomino coloring, looked fairly fit. The harpy, though… “John and Diana are that centaur and the harpy right?”

Hattie glanced at Morgan. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure that harpy is going to survive this?” Morgan asked. The harpy was a small, grey and white plumaged thing who was barely as tall as Frances. She was also trembling and her bright yellow eyes were glancing around nervously.

“Looks can be very deceiving. Diana’s very brave. Suicidally so perhaps,” said Hattie. She grimaced. “Watch closely.”

Morgan did.

The trio marched up to the starting line as a squad of the younger students took their places. All three of them had wands, but Sely also carried a war hammer.

“Go!” Frances cried out.

The three sprang into action. Diana immediately hopped onto John’s back and began casting with her wand as John galloped. Her song threw up a cloud of dirt and dust that completely obscured the trio from sight. The young students fired blindingly into the cloud, trying to hit them, but now Morgan could hear Sely singing as well.

Diana’s song ended, but Sely continued to sing and as the dust cloud faded, Morgan could see that the half-ogre had used his magic to collect as many flat stones as possible and bind them together into rough shields. Using these, the trio almost casually walked through the first section despite the younger students hammering them with magic.

They reached the ditch, upon which Sely’s shields collapsed, but Diana now lofted into the air, dodging spells and arrows, and casting green shields around John and Sely. John was having trouble fording the ditch, his hooves kept getting stuck, but Sely helped yank the centaur’s hooves out of the sticky mud, sometimes using his hammer as extra purchase.

In minutes they were out of the ditch. Sely slammed the door open with his bulk, and John and Diana followed close behind.

The opposing team of students, a gaggle of humans and Alavari reached the ruins and got in, just in time for the trio to blast out. With a cry, John charged in, followed by Sely, whilst Diana flew high and came in using a second floor window.

They waited the longest time here, but after fifteen or so minutes, the trio emerged, with a disappointed looking group of youngters in tow.

“That’s a new record, great job! Good casting on your shield spells Diana and good on you for helping John through that ditch Sely,” said Frances, clapping.

“They made it look so easy,” Morgan stammered.

“They’re a very good team,” said Hattie. “I have an idea though. Lightbreaker…your wand, it can manipulate light right?”

Morgan pursed her lips and gingerly touched her wand.

Can I manipulate light? Of course, I can manipulate light, said her wand.

“The know-it-all can,” said Morgan, letting go of her wand. “How did you know I had Lighbreaker?”

“Master Frances let me touch it before,” said Hattie. She took a breath. “Here’s the plan.”

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Frances was very intrigued when it was finally time for her two apprentices to take their place. For one, the team opposing the pair were pre-teens, amongst the oldest of the “young” student group. They were led by a young half-human half-centaur Frances remembered called Haestan. She wasn’t entirely sure how they’d match up, but Frances was hopeful her first apprentice could guide her second.

Hattie and Morgan started the match being barraged by the pre-teens who were coordinating arrow fire and mage fire from multiple angles. That was when Morgan raised her wand and sang.

A blinding bright like shone from her wand, so fierce that Frances was forced to use Ivy to cast a kind of transparent shield to dull the flash. It was only then could Frances see Lightbreaker’s brilliance.

The pair reached the ditch after some difficulty and at that point, the light dimmed. Frances dropped her shield and watched as Morgan lofted over the ditch easily, whilst Hattie froze the mud with a wave of her wand and slid across.

That was when things stopped going to plan for the pair.

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Hattie and Morgan were clambering up the side of the ditch’s slope when the half-troll slipped just as she scrambled over the edge. She landed on her arm, hard, but struggled up and the pair were through the doorway and into the brick building.

Morgan turned a corner to her left, saw the wooden and hit with a spell that sent it flying to the ground. As she spun around to move on to the next room, she saw Hattie grasping her wrist, gasping out a spell to smash a target to her right.

“Hattie?”

“I’m fine.”

Morgan grabbed the half-troll’s arm. She could see the scrape where the girl’s wrist had hit the ground. More worryingly, her fingers were shaking.

“Like hell you are. You need a healer.”

Hattie yanked her arm out of Morgan’s grasp, gasping as she did so.

“Morgan, I’m fine!”

“Hattie, your wrist is sprained. We still have the final part of the course to finish! Are you really going to be able to cast?” Morgan asked.

The half-troll narrowed her eyes, stormed down the hallway, turned into another room. Morgan followed and before her eyes, Hattie cried out several Words of Power. Bolts of dark blue magic slammed into the three targets in the room.

Yet as Hattie whirled on Morgan, the harpy-troll could see that her partner was biting her lip.

“I’m fine!”

Morgan frowned, shook her head and holstered her wand. “No. We’re stopping this.” As she stepped back toward the exit, Hattie ran in front of her and raised her arms.

“I’m not embarrassing Frances. We’re continuing.”

Morgan threw up her hands. “Embarrass—why would she be embarrassed? I know shit about the Stormcaller and even I know that she wouldn’t be embarrassed by this!”

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“She wouldn’t but that’s the problem! I can’t be more of an embarrassment than I already am!” Hattie cried.

“What—” Morgan shook her head and forced herself to breathe. This was just all too much. Too much for her to deal with. She needed to get around from Hattie and tell Frances to call this off.

There is a second door behind you.

Morgan stiffened at Lightbreaker’s comment but her darned wand was right. The door was directly behind her. But Hattie wasn’t going to let her get away.

Oh, holdon.

“Hattie I’m sorry.” Morgan drew Lightbreaker and looked away. Blinding light filled the room and the harpy-troll bolted for the exit. She slammed the door open and leapt into the sky, flying right for Frances.

“Stop the exercise! Hattie’s injured!”

Frances’s eyes widened and she snapped an order to the children, before running toward the house. Hattie stumbled out, blinking, still grabbing onto her hand.

“Hattie, what happened—Oh that looks bad.”

“It’s nothing—I’m fine,” Hattie stammered, trying to smile at Frances, and yet glaring at Morgan.

The harpy-troll averted her gaze as Frances quickly touched her wand to Hattie’s wrist and cast a healing spell.

“There, but it’s going to keep being tender for a while.” Frances stared at Hattie for a moment before turning to Morgan. “You did a good job running to me for help, thank you.”

Morgan blinked, was it just her or did Frances seem to look sad? She was carefully wrapping Hattie’s wrist now, and yet she wasn’t meeting her student’s eye. For that matter, Hattie was studiously looking away.

Just what the heck was going on?

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During lunch, Morgan sat alone at a table in the canteen. She’d tried to approach Hattie, but the older girl had turned on her heel and put as much distance and bodies between herself and the harpy-troll.

That…that hurt and it distracted Morgan from the otherwise delicious food. Sure it was just some kind of rice porridge she’d heard called congee, but it was mixed with delicious soft pork bones, salty preserved vegetables, and served with a variety of side dishes.

Classes were mostly over for the day, but apparently now there was a “lunch break” which meant the students in the school could hang out with their friends.

Morgan had no friends. She tried not to let that bother her, but as she sat on the roof of the canteen, looking down on the courtyard, she couldn’t help but stare at the groups of children all over the yard.

There were those playing a form of tag. Older students were playing with a circular wooden discus that seemed partly curved into the inside. Still others were playing board games under the roots of small saplings. Hattie was standing in a corner, surrounded by a group of students.

Morgan’s eyes snapped wide open, her hawk-like eyes focusing on a spot near the corner of the Her mind coming to a halt. Scrambling to her feet, she leapt into the sky and flew towards the commotion.

She was too high up to tell what was going on, and there was just far too much noise from the other kids. What Morgan could see was that Hattie was backed up against a wall. Her arms were crossed and her face twisted in consternation at the four Alavari and human students talking to her. They were a mixture of teens and pre-teens around her age, all girls. They were also gesturing, and from their narrowed eyes, Morgan didn’t think they looked friendly.

But…the last time Morgan had tried to help Hattie, she’d just been brushed away. What if she just made things worse between them?

Besides, it wasn’t like the students were hurting Hattie, they’d just surrounded her. Hattie could take care of herself right?

One of the students, their leader, a female orc, said something. Hattie flinched and suddenly tried to leave, trying to shoulder her way through the group. She almost succeeded, but the human female stuck her leg out and set the half-troll sprawling onto the ground. Hattie tried to get up, only for a goblin to stomp on her bandaged wrist.

Hattie collapsed, as the group laughed. Morgan didn’t hear that, or hear the half-troll’s cry. All she could see were her prey, and the tears in the half-troll’s eyes as she clung to her wrist.

Turning her wings, Morgan extended her claws.

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Hattie held onto her wrist, gasping, trying to hold the tears in. She didn’t want to give Sighla and her cornies the satisfaction.

“What’s the matter, Hattie? Can’t do anything without your Master by your side?” Sighla asked.

Biting her lip, Hattie bit back the urge to retort. If she didn’t give them something to respond against, then Sighla and her girls would eventually give up. They’d hurt her a little but she could deal with that pain.

Besides, she deserved it. Hattie closed her eyes as the pain of that cold truth drove into her heart.

The goblin girl, Tavara snorted. “Yeesh. Why are you never any fun? It’s like you’re a corpse. Why you haven’t k—”

Tavara’s insult abruptly cut off into a gurgle. Hattie opened her eyes, but she wasn’t facing the goblin. From where she lay on the ground, she could only see Sighla’s eyes widen and the color drain from her face. Hattie could hear someone sobbing, moaning piteously behind her.

“Afternoon ladies, or should I say, you disgusting pieces of shit.”

Hattie turned over, and froze.

Morgan, her wings flapping, was perched atop of Tavara, claws splayed on her back. The goblin girl was sobbing, whimpering trying to get the harpy-troll off her. Morgan took one clawed foot off of Tavara, but kept one on her back and let her weight crush Tavara back into the dirt.

“I suggest you get the fuck away from her,” Morgan hissed, grinning.

“Morgan what—”

“This bitch stamped on your wounded arm. That makes her a bully and I have no patience for bullies.”

“Whoever you are, I suggest you get off of her, right now!” hissed Sighla, reaching to her belt for wand.

Morgan’s smirk suddenly made it clear to Hattie what Elizabeth and Frances had previously meant by “shit-eating grin.”

“Princess Morgan Greyhammer, Viscountess of Kwent, daughter of the late Crown Prince Teutobal Greyhammer, and Frances the Stormcaller’s second apprentice at your fucking service.” Morgan crossed her arms. “So that’s, Your Highness you fucking plebians.”

Hattie clamped her uninjured hand over her mouth, trying to hold back her mirth. She couldn’t help it. The harpy-troll just looked like such a badass.

Sighla didn’t think so. The orc ran forward and swung. Morgan rolled the punch, dodging it with inches and let loose a vicious kick that slammed into the side of the orc’s knee. Sighla stumbled, and the harpy-troll leapt into the sky and slammed her knee into the orc’s jaw.

Sighla tumbled to the ground, but the human, Rendelia and Sighla’s ogre friend Persaphire charged at Morgan. The taller Persaphire grabbed Morgan’s legs and threw her to the ground, and before the princess could get up, Rendelia leapt onto Morgan and started pounding her fists into her face.

Somehow, Morgan was cackling, Rendelia’s punches only briefly interrupting her. Before she could reconsider, Hattie had scrambled to her feet and seized Rendelia’s brown hair, yanking it hard. Her wrist screamed in agony, but the half-troll continued to pull, tearing Rendelia off and allowing Morgan to rise to her feet.

Something hard hit Hattie in her side, and she gasped, letting go of Rendelia’s hair. She turned, and gasped as Sighla’s hands clenched around her neck.

“You fucking monster! You disgusting piece of—”

“Get off her! You waste of space!”

Morgan’s screech rang in Hattie’s ears and Sighla’s hands were torn from her neck. Gasping, Hattie fell, grasping at the divots that the orc’s fingernails had left. Morgan was levitating off the ground, her eyes glowing, violet magic erupting from her hands.

Sighla and her cohorts drew their wands. Hattie managed to get hers out, gasping, but before spells could start flying, a bright flash of blue blinded them, followed by a deafening crack that rolled on and on.

“Enough!”

Spots in their eyes, Hattie and Morgan blinked rapidly, seeing the short form of Frances Stormcaller in the middle of their group. Little bolts of lightning arched over her white robes and the air stank of ozone. It burned in the back of their throats and noses. She didn’t carry a wand, instead she had a staff capped with silver on both ends.

But what plunged daggers of fear into each of the girls’ hearts was the rage on Frances’s face. Lips pulled back, teeth gritted, her amber eyes stalking over each of them.

“All of you, your wands and staves on the ground, now!”

Pieces of wood were quickly put on the ground, where with a sweep of her staff, Frances gathered them up.

“They started—”

“I didn’t say you could talk!” Frances snapped, whirling on Morgan. The harpy-troll, eyes wide, froze, her magic abruptly vanishing and dropping her to the ground. “What were you thinking?”

“What? I—”

“Used magic in a fight? Performing a diving strike on one of your fellow students?” Frances bellowed. “Go to my office now!”

Morgan stared at Frances. “But they were—”

Frances opened her mouth, but something caught her eye and she ran past the girl. Morgan tried to grab onto her, but she missed and stared as the Stormcaller ran not to Hattie, but to…

To the unmoving form of the goblin who’d Morgan had slammed to the ground. She was still lying there, her dress cut by claw marks, where blood was starting to well up.

“Tavara. Tavara!” Frances raised her staff and began to sing. Yet the goblin girl didn’t move. She was still.

Morgan stumbled back. No. She hadn’t…she…she’d extended her wings just before she hit the goblin girl. She’d been moving! She wasn’t…she wasn’t dead was she?

“Professor? She’s going to be okay, is she? You can save her?” Sighla stammered. Her black eyes were filling with tears, the color draining from her face. “She’s…she’s our family, the only family we have left, please.”

Frances stopped singing, and knelt down beside the goblin, very carefully rolling her up onto her back. “Get my mother, and hurry! She hit her head on the ground. I’m going to need her help.”

Morgan fled. She ran, flew, a combination of both. Her heart pounded in her chest, her blood roared in her pointed ears. She tore past crowds of students, and teachers, their eyes boring into her as she ran.

They knew. They all knew now. They knew she was a weapon, a murderer, and a monster.

She ran into Frances’s office, slamming the door behind her. Alone, in the silent room, she fell onto her knees.

There, she laughed, she laughed at herself, at her own stupidity. She knew she sounded absolutely crazy, but she was crazy after all. She could have gotten an adult, gotten Frances, instead she’d nearly killed a girl and started a fight. She’d used her power without a second thought.

Huh, tears were falling to the floor. They were her tears. Why was she crying? She was a horrifying monster, laughing after she’d nearly killed her classmate. Frances now knew what she was dealing with.

No…she must have known this entire time. Somehow, Morgan knew she’d been deluded to think that the Stormcaller-no, that Frances knew. That terrifying…kind…woman who her uncle loved…she had to know that the girl she was taking care of was a monster in disguise. Not Alavari, not human, but an abomination wearing the skin of a princess. Something barely a moment from flying out of control and hurting everything and everyone around her.

Nobody was safe. Nobody at all. She had to leave. For everybody’s safety. But…how would she keep them safe? How could she—

Morgan’s eyes picked up a slender wooden wand lying on a pillow on the desk. She recognized the purplish yew wood. Running over, Morgan yanked out Lightbreaker and put it on the desk.

Master what are you doing—

“I’m sorry, Lightbreaker. I can’t. I’m not worthy of you. Or of your power. You should choose Frances. She’s far more worthy of your power. And um, she’ll need you because…” Morgan took a breath and grabbed the wand on the pillow. “I’ll be needing her. She can help. You can’t. It’s not your fault, but I’m too dangerous to go alone without some kind of restraint.”

Morgan, slow down, take a breath. You need to calm down. Ivy’s Sting stammered. Already, the wand’s warm, comforting presence wrapped around Morgan’s mind.

“I’m sorry Ivy, but I need your help. I nearly killed someone. I’m so sorry, but it’s a good trade. Frances gets a more powerful wand she deserves. You… you’re the only one who can help me. I’m sorry.”

Master, wait she’s not less powerful than I! You’re making a horrible mistake! Lightbreaker bellowed.

“I’m sorry Lightbreaker. I know you both won’t forgive me. I’m so sorry!” Morgan let go of her wand, pocketed Ivy’s Sting, ran to the window of the office, and leapt out, flapping hard.

She soared over the school, that beautiful, warm school with such awesome teachers. She flew over the city, the crumbling, rebuilding, Athelda-Aoun of myth and legend.

She’d been here for just a few weeks and it already ached in her heart that she had to leave.

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Frances wiped the sweat from her hair. Tavara was starting to respond, and she was alive, but she was almost certainly concussed. She’d done her best, but head wounds were tricky and she would prefer if Edana took a look.

“Hattie give me a hand—” Frances looked up at her first apprentice and blinked. “What—Oh gods. Who…what happened to you?”

Hattie averted her gaze at first, but suddenly, swallowed and looked at Rendelia and Persaphire, who froze, trying to meet her gaze, but their eyes wavered, trying to look around her, but not at her.

“Rendelia tripped me. Tavara stomped on my wrist and Sighla strangled me.”

Frances’s eyes widened and she stared at the human and ogre, both of whom were actually a few inches taller than her. Rendelia and Persaphire bowed their heads.

“Rendelia, Persaphire, is this true?”

Rendelia swallowed and raised a shaking arm to point at Hattie. “She killed our parents!” exclaimed the troll. “She let General Helias into our city! If it weren’t for her, they might still be alive!”

Frances winced as Hattie nodded once, closing her eyes.

“How long?” Frances whispered. Persaphire and Rendelia were silent, their lips pressed together, glancing at one another. “How long were you bullying Hattie?”

Hattie instinctively raised her right hand and winced before putting it down. “Master they…um…it…”

“Hattie, tell me the truth, what were they doing to you and for how long?” Frances croaked.

Hattie swallowed and tried to smile. She wasn’t going to make a full smile, but she hoped if she played it off as a joke, then her master wouldn’t ask. “Not much, I mean…nothing that really hurt. Nothing that—”

“Nothing that you didn’t deserve?”

Hattie felt like she’d been hit. “No that’s not…I mean, it wasn’t that bad. They were just messing around—”

The half-troll felt her breath catch in her throat as Frances walked up to her. Her eyes were filled with tears and her staff, which Hattie suddenly realised was Silver Star and not Ivy’s Sting, shook in her teacher’s hands.

“Hattie, I know that’s not true. Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not!” Hattie stammered. “Honestly I’m not.”

Frances wiped her eyes. “Hattie, please, tell me the truth, or I will tell you what I know. What I’ve known for some time but was too much of a coward to tell you.”

Hattie took a deep breath. Her teacher…was not being swayed, this wouldn’t do. She had to convince her, once and for all.

“This was the first time! I swear on my mother and father’s graves!”

She hoped she didn’t flinch as she said that, but that should be enough. Frances had always respected her privacy and trusted her word. She was nice that way.

Except, her teacher’s shoulders sagged and Frances looked into the sky, to the crevasse above Athelda-Aoun, her amber eyes still bright with tears. Raising Silver Star, Frances created a small spell bubble around the pair of them.

“Master? What is this—”

“I’m sorry, Hattie. I’m…I’m so sorry, but I’ve known for some time that you’ve been thinking about how to either seriously hurt yourself, Hattie.”

Hattie stepped back, trying to get away, but her back hit the wall of the spell bubble. She tried to push her way through it, but the vain attempt got her nowhere. “You…no, how…”

Frances raised Silver Star and sung a note. Hattie winced as the flesh on her neck knitted back together and the pain in her wrist faded.

“A few months ago I saw your note. Your…just in case note, before you hid it again. That’s why I cancelled our practice duel that day. I didn’t know if you were going to…to slip up by ‘accident’ and let yourself get hurt.”

Hattie somehow managed to spit out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That was my fault. I didn’t think it would help. I told you so often that you aren’t responsible for what happened with Helias, for the dragon curse, and for the deaths of Sighla, Rendelia, Tavara and Persephira’s remaining parents. I tried so hard to make you feel your own worth, your own value and show you how talented you are, only for you to keep trying to kill yourself!”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself!” Hattie stammered. She swallowed. “Really, I wasn’t I mean…I don’t deserve to live but—” The half-troll covered her mouth. “I…well…”

It was far too late, Frances let out a low groan. “I can tell you tried to stop Morgan from getting help for you today. And in every attack on Athelda-Aoun you sallied out of the walls by yourself without telling anybody. You wanted to lead the frontal assault against the castle holding Morgan by yourself! Before that, you volunteered to infiltrate the castle by yourself. You tried to throw yourself off one of the buildings in Athelda-Aoun! I watched you stand there for two hours, trying to decide what to do!”

Hattie’s eyes widened. That had been a very bad day. It was the day her mother had died and…and she had felt so ashamed. On that day, she had seriously wondered if she should just end it all.

“You were there? But why…why didn’t you show yourself?”

“Because I was worried the moment I showed myself you’d throw yourself off!” Frances cried. “Because I know that you think you’re a burden to me! That all I’ve done for you is out of guilt for killing your father.”

Hattie blinked. “It’s not?”

A shudder ran through Frances and she buried her face in her hands for a moment. When she pulled her hands from her face, her eyes were tinged red.

“I do it because I care for you, Hattie and because you’re my dear, talented, amazing apprentice of whom I’m so proud of.”

“But I don’t deserve that care! You’ve repaid your debt tenfold!” Hattie pointed at her scar. “I should have died a year ago—”

“Love isn’t about deserving, Hattie!”

“Love?”

Frances closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. I…I didn’t know how to say it because…because I…I killed your parents. How could I say that I love you? How could you receive that love, from the one that caused all this to you? How could I possibly have the privilege of loving you when I’m causing you this pain?”

The world didn’t make any sense. Why was Frances crying so hard, so horribly that she was shaking as she did so? Hattie didn’t know, it was too insane.

“You…but you didn’t. You saved me! You bought me time I didn’t have. Gave me a home, taught me so much, made me happy when I shouldn’t be!”

“Then why do you still want to hurt yourself? Why do you feel like you owe me when I’m the one who helped ruin your life?” Frances reached forward, gently taking Hattie’s unbruised hand. “Hattie…I’m not the amazing mentor you think I am. I’m just…trying my best and I still make mistakes.”

Hattie swallowed. She didn’t get it. Not really. There was too much she’d just found out, too much to take in.

But the fact that Frances loved her, cared for her…that was good. That made her feel warm, and…and horrified. Horrified that she could have, ended it, and hurt her teacher.

“I…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Hattie croaked. “I thought…I…I thought this was what I deserved.”

Frances gave a watery giggle. “I’m sorry too. And I understand, more than you know. I…did you know I signed myself up for my first campaign when I was fourteen because I thought I was being a burden on Edana?”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I nearly died. Edana nearly died, but…we made up and we came to a better understanding.” Frances gently squeezed Hattie’s hand. “I hope you and I can do the same.”

The half-troll nodded, wiping her eyes. “I…Sighla and her friends, well, adoptive family, were hurting me for months. Just words at first, but they kept…they kept trying to get me to react.”

“And you thought you deserved it because you let Helias in? Because you think they were orphaned because of you?”

Hattie nodded, closing her eyes, feeling herself hunch forward.

Except Frances wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

“Oh Hattie, that’s…that’s general Helias’s fault, not yours.”

“But…I…I helped. I helped orphan them and I know how bad that feels. How…how alone it is,” she cried.

“I know. I can see how much it hurts, how much it weighs on you and I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will convince you, but I’m going to keep trying, okay? If you’d let me.”

Hattie swallowed and nodded, holding onto her mentor, the killer of her father, and the only person who she knew loved her, no matter how wretched and guilty felt.

----------------------------------------

When Frances dispelled the spell, wiping her eyes. Edana was glaring sternly at Sighla, Rendelia, Persaphire, and a revived, but whoozy looking Tavara, who froze as Frances and Hattie stepped forward.

“They were bullying Hattie for months,” said Edana.

“I heard.” Frances wiped her eyes again. “I’m very disappointed in you girls. I understand your anger, but you have to know that Helias is responsible for your parents’ deaths, not Hattie.”

Sighla winced. “We know! We just…” The orc clenched her fists. “He’s not here, and she is and…fuck we were jealous!”

“Yeah, why does she get to be taught by you, professor? Why does she get your love? Why does she get to be your apprentice?” stammered Rendelia.

Persaphire nodded. “We know you care about us, professor, for all the people in this school. We just…we were so angry that she got special treatment.”

Frances, not sure what to say, crossed her arms, trying to gather herself.

Hattie stammered, “I’m sorry. I…I mean, I…I know I deserve to pay but just…what can I do?”

“Hattie that’s not—”

“And there’s that!” Tavara snapped, cutting Frances off. The goblin, her eyes welling with tears pointed at Hattie. “Why don’t you fight back? We told you to go kill yourself so many times and you just…did nothing! Why? What kind of fake bullshit are you pulling? Are you trying to piss us off?”

Frances, eyes wide, grabbed Hattie’s shoulder, but the half-troll was already speaking.

“It’s not fake. I just…I didn’t know what else I could do to make you all feel better.”

Sighla stepped back. “Are you saying…you told nobody because…because you thought we were punishing you…” The green seemed to drain from the orc’s face.

“You were…you felt bad for us? But we were—” Persaphire turned to her friends. “We thought you didn’t feel guilty. You seemed so…so cool and aloof. Like you didn’t care.”

Rendilia crumpled to the floor, falling on her butt, her eyes wide. “What…this wasn’t how it was supposed to go!”

“Plans driven by anger and revenge rarely go the way we think they will,” Frances said in a quiet voice, exchanging a meaningful look. “Mom, can I leave the girls with you? I need to make an apology to Morgan. I was far too harsh with her.”

“Of course, Frances.”

Sighla blinked. “Morgan? Didn’t you send her home, Professor?”

“No. I sent her to my office,” said Frances.

As she finished her sentence, the Stormcaller felt an icy grip seize her heart. Her eyes were wide, but all she could see was the memory of Morgan’s horror, her hurt, and the shock that had spread across the harpy-troll’s face.

“Because I saw her flying away into the sky,” said Sighla.