EPISODE FIVE: THE OLD GODS

Olivia

I felt a sensation of weightlessness, as though I were an ethereal being floating through an infinite cosmos, drifting amid a tapestry of stars that twinkled like diamonds scattered across the obsidian void. Each star pulsed with its own vibrant life force, their radiant hues painting the darkness with splashes of sapphire, amethyst, and fiery crimson. I was no longer confined by a corporeal form; instead, I merged with the vast expanse of space itself, becoming one with the celestial symphony that resonated around me.

The stars, each a unique masterpiece, danced in harmonious unison, intricately woven together by the delicate threads of destiny. I gazed upon them with the awe of an artist beholding a grand creation—an exquisite cosmos crafted not by my hands but by the divine embrace of the universe. A profound pride swelled within me, igniting a sense of belonging among these celestial bodies, each one glowing with individuality and beauty, as if whispering secrets of their origins.

As I drifted further into this ethereal realm, my attention was irresistibly drawn toward a radiant beacon—a colossal red sun bathing the space around it in an iridescent glow. It shimmered with the warmth of creation, its incandescent brilliance calling my name in a sonorous whisper that resonated with the very core of my being. This was it—the architect of all that exists, the heartbeat of the universe itself.

I could feel its boundless love enveloping me, wrapping me in a cosmic embrace that transcended time and space. In that moment, I realized we were intertwined, this magnificent entity and I, united in a tapestry of love and cosmic destiny, and a deep sense of belonging coursed through my essence. This connection, an eternal bond, illuminated my spirit, igniting a flame of adoration that shimmered brightly against the backdrop of forever.

I awoke with a start, instinctively clutching my neck, shocked by the phantom pain that still coursed through my body. Was it all just a dream? I mused, replaying the events that had unfolded. The Blood Moon had risen ominously, and a shimmering portal had materialized. Through it had crawled a fearsome Hellhound, its jaws snapping as it bit me. Uncertainty gnawed at me; how much of it had actually happened?

As I lifted my head, my eyes gradually adjusted to the dimly lit room around me. A wave of recognition washed over me as I took in the room’s round crimson walls, vibrant as if wrapped in fresh rose petals.

“Ah, you’re awake,” came a smooth voice, cutting through the haze of my thoughts. I turned to find Khxlynd’r seated across from me at the ornate tea table, a fresh cup of steaming tea placed invitingly before each of us.

“Good morning,” he greeted with a warm smile, lifting his cup to his lips, savoring the steam that curled upward as he took a gentle sip, his eyes fluttering closed in contentment.

“What happened?” My voice quivered with panic, adrenaline surging through me as I scanned the room. “Where’s the Hellhound?”

“Drink first,” he replied in a gentle cadence, his red eyes glinting with an unspoken reassurance. “It will help you feel better.”

I glanced down at my porcelain cup, the liquid swirling within it a striking blush color. Hesitantly, I lifted it to my nose and inhaled deeply; the sweet, fruity aroma enveloped me, evoking a forgotten comfort.

“Strawberries,” I murmured, nostalgia flooding my senses. My mother had loved this tea, sipping it each morning, her laughter as bright as the sun.

As I took a cautious sip, the taste burst on my tongue—sweet and vibrant. A wave of relaxation cascaded over me, and I released a deep breath, allowing the lingering stress to melt away.

“Better?” Khxlynd’r inquired, arching a black eyebrow, his gaze locked onto mine with a gentle embrace.

“Yes,” I managed, exhaling another shuddering breath, feeling the tension unspool from my body.

“Now,” he said, gently setting his cup on the table with practiced ease. “About the Hellhound. I killed it.”

“What? How?” I nearly dropped my cup, shock rippling through my body.

“I told you I would be here to protect you,” he said, leaning in, his presence both comforting and intimidating. “The hellhound damaged your body. So I stepped in.”

My breath caught, and I instinctively reached for my throat, the memories of pain flashing vividly in my mind. “And the bite?”

“I fixed it,” he stated simply, an unyielding calm in his demeanor.

“You possessed me?” My voice rose in disbelief, confusion knitting my brow.

“I acted through you,” he clarified, a hint of offense lacing his tone. “I would never strip you of your free will.”

“How?” I pressed, probing deeper. “How can you do that? And how could you heal me?”

Khxlynd’r sighed deeply, standing from the table, his towering physique casting a shadow that made me feel like a child. He turned his back to me, as if gathering his thoughts.

“I have power that this world knows not.” He raised his hand, and a swirling red glow ignited in his palm, illuminating the dim room. But with a swift motion, he balled his hand into a fist, extinguishing the light and leaving an echo of its glow behind. “But I am confined to these walls now.”

“Why?” I asked, panic bubbling up once more. “You’re trapped here?”

“A punishment,” he stated, his voice thick with gravity as he turned to face me, a somber smile on his lips. “For dying.”

“You’re dead?” My confusion deepened, each word tangled in its own layer of meaning. Everything around me felt so tangible, so real, including Khxlynd’r himself.

“Yes,” he replied, his tone softening, almost wistful. “But death for someone like me isn’t quite the same as it is for mortals.”

With a heavy sigh, he glanced at the ornate clock on the wall, its intricate carvings catching the dim light.

“There are some kinds of power in this world that never truly disappear,” he gestured to the figures etched into the clock’s wood, each one telling a story of its own. “My brothers and sisters,” he added with an enigmatic smile, his eyes glinting with distant memories. “Our mother was a very powerful being. She bestowed upon us powers beyond what most could imagine, gifting us pieces of her soul, her very being, to create our lives. So death, in her eyes, was a sin punishable by eternal damnation.”

“That’s horrible,” I replied, pity weighing heavy in my heart.

“In my world, we were creators,” he continued, his voice shaking slightly. “Given blank canvases, we crafted wonders. For centuries, we lived as kings and queens of our own personal dominions. But we did not always get along.”

He moved closer to the clock, tracing a finger over one of the intricately carved figures with short hair and horns that curled like snakes toward the sky.

“Et’r and I had quite the disagreement,” he paused, taking a deep breath steeped in regret. “He took my life.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I frowned, fighting the tide of confusion. “Why are you being punished for being murdered? Why not him?”

“He is being punished,” he corrected me, his voice firmer now. “Worse than all of us. My punishment was death, while his is life.”

He gestured toward the door at the far end of the room, his face partially shadowed. “In this afterlife, I can commune with my siblings; we can still enjoy each other’s company. But Et’r will never join our table. He lives on, stripped of his power and ability to create. Unable to die, but still locked up all the same.”

He turned to me, his gaze piercing into the depths of my soul. “I consider that a fate worse than death. Even in death, I’ve had the opportunity to create beautiful things.”

His expression shifted, a veil of sadness draping over his features as he again glanced at the clock. “My death had more consequences than I could ever imagine.”

He stared at the faces of the figures, melancholy welling in his eyes, trembling with the weight of his memories. “After my death, our mother abandoned us. My death spread like a plague across the land, and one by one, my remaining siblings fell.”

Sadness hung between us like a thick fog. “My home world is still in disarray. It’s torn with the war due to the wounds that my siblings and I were never able to heal.”

He sat back down at the table, leaning in closer. “However, before chaos completely engulfed our land, we all sent a trinket here, to this fresh, unaltered world, carried by a single champion—a being who would preserve the pieces of ourselves and our former glories.”

He paused, reflecting on his next words, and finally pointed at my chest. “My trinket lies within you.”

A warm sensation blossomed in my chest at his words, filling me with a sense of purity and love that I hadn’t felt in years.

“Et’r’s trinket was carried by the Dark Matron.”

My face paled at the revelation, my heart racing.

“She came here seeking to use Et’r’s power to become like her creator. She wanted to rule this world as he ruled his, so she wielded his power to create.” He leaned forward, the intensity of his gaze compelling me to listen. “She birthed the seven dark creatures that your academy hunts, and with their sacrifices, she will attempt to return. Like our mother, the Dark Matron sacrificed a piece of herself, a fragment of Et’r’s true power, to all of these creatures, uniquely transforming them into the horrid beasts they are today. She will attempt to reclaim those pieces if she is to return, one from each beast she created. With the Blood Moon having risen, she has already begun to claim lives. She must not be allowed to reclaim all of them.”

“What about the spawn at my academy?” I interjected, urgency coloring my tone. “How do they fit into this?”

“One of the pieces she seeks belongs to that child,” Khxlynd’r replied solemnly. “I’m not certain why, but I know she must claim that particular life. Et’r’s power shields me from knowing the true identity of the spawn, but she will send more assassins, just like the Hellhound.”

As if on cue, the ornate clock began chiming, a loud, reverberating sound that filled the room.

“Time is up,” Khxlynd’r said, his gaze glued to the clock, his face tinged with urgency. “You must return to your world.”

“Wait!” I exclaimed, feeling a strange force pulling me backward, resistance trembling within me. “I have more questions!”

“I’ve told you all I can for now,” he smiled softly, a hint of regret lacing his voice. “You have more allies than you realize. Seek out Volcan; he knows more than most.” The words felt like an echo, winding around us as the lights blurred, stretching infinitely as I was suddenly pulled into a blinding light, Khxlynd’r’s voice fading into a distant whisper, leaving me wrapped in uncertainty and a burning sense of urgency.

Dex

I surveyed the quaint little shop nestled in the heart of Northfield, its weathered sign swaying gently in the noon breeze. Shadows danced eerily across the cracked stone walkway, casting a darker omen on the storefront's already ominous appearance.

“This is the place,” Chloe said, her luminous black eyes locked onto the entrance, brimming with intensity. “There was evil here.”

Following the Blood Moon’s rise the previous night, all fourth and fifth-year students had been dispatched on emergency missions. An unsettling wave of chaos had swept across the realm, leaving countless citizens desperate for aid. Lunaris Orfec, the diminutive owner of this shop, had urgently sent out a letter, begging for assistance late last night. This once-innocuous haven for magical plants and trinkets had now become the backdrop for a chilling disturbance.

“Let’s go,” I replied, drawing my sword from its sheath with a determined flick of my wrist.

Approaching the creaking door, I pushed it open softly, the sound reverberating through the dimly lit interior. I turned to Chloe, whose face was a mask of grim resolve, and pressed a cautious finger to my lips. We stepped into the entrance, wariness surging through me as I took in the chaos that surrounded us.

The shop was a disaster; shelves lay overturned, an unsettling assortment of herbs and papers scattered across the floor like remnants of a violent storm. I knelt to examine a tattered scroll, an unsettling intuition twisting in my gut as I tried to piece together the night's horrors.

“Dex.” Chloe’s whisper sliced through the silence. Her finger jabbed toward the far corner of the room, which was obscured from my view, panic flashing in her eyes.

I nodded, suppressing the unease curling in my stomach, and took careful, measured steps toward the source of her apprehension. As I rounded the corner, my breath hitched in my throat.

Before me lay the lifeless body of a young man, no older than twenty, his vibrant youth now extinguished. His long black hair spread out like a dark halo against the weathered wooden floor, creating a stark contrast with his pale, almost sickly grayish skin, which seemed to absorb rather than reflect the dim light peeking in from the closed blinds.

My heart raced as I stepped closer, drawn by an insatiable mixture of dread and responsibility. The most horrific detail was the gaping hole in his chest, about the circumference of a tea cup, and perfectly circular, as if it had been carved by some precise instrument or born from the sinister whims of dark magic. The edges of the wound appeared singed, as though a great heat had seared the flesh, and a faint, acrid smell hung in the air, mingling with the chilling silence that enveloped the room.

A frigid shiver slithered down my spine at the gruesome sight; I could almost feel the malice that clung to the space around me like a thick fog. Each breath became a labor, the air heavy with an unseen presence that pressed in on me, as if the very shadows were alive and watching.

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Suddenly, a resounding thump echoed through the shop, piercing the oppressive quietude. I spun around on my heels, adrenaline surging as I instinctively tightened my grip on my sword.

The sound had emanated from a large wardrobe huddled in the shadows behind the counter. Without a word, I shared a glance with Chloe, her eyes wide, brimming with determination and fear, before inching toward the looming structure. The air grew heavy, the atmosphere thick with foreboding as I approached.

I could hear something inside—the ragged sound of breathing, a shuddering whisper of desperation. My heart pounded in my chest as I reached for the handle, nearly trembling with nerves. In a swift motion, I yanked it open.

A piercing scream erupted from within, reverberating through the shop, causing me to recoil in shock.

“Please don’t kill me!” begged a quivering voice, a soft plea that tugged at my heart.

“Mr. Orfec?” I exclaimed, recognition flooding over me as I found him huddled in the depths of the wardrobe, curled into a trembling ball, his terrified eyes wide with dread.

“Dex!” he cried, his voice piercing the oppressive silence. “Chloe!”

He catapulted from the closet, wrapping his arms around me with an almost desperate urgency. Orfec was a short man, about two-thirds my height, with wisps of short gray hair clinging to his receding hairline as if even they sought refuge from whatever malevolence lurked outside. I gently patted him on the head, signaling that it was time for him to release his vice-like grip.

“I’m so glad my letter made it,” he stammered, loosening his hold, the panic still etched across his pallid features. “I wasn’t sure if I had performed the spell correctly.”

“Well, it appears whatever was here last night is gone, but it seems to have claimed a victim,” I replied cautiously, gesturing toward the lifeless man sprawled on the floor, a macabre testament to some quiet violence. Mr. Orfec tiptoed over, his footfalls barely audible on the cold, creaking floorboards, a raw scream escaping his lips as he beheld the corpse. I quickly clamped my hands over my ears to dull the sound.

“That’s him!” he shrieked again, terror bubbling forth as he scrambled back to my side, trembling. “That’s the man who broke in last night!”

“Did you do this to him?” I questioned, stepping closer to scrutinize the ghastly sight once more.

“No,” Orfec yelled, his voice quivering as though each word might summon the dead back to life. “As soon as I heard the ruckus, I hid in the wardrobe.”

“Then how did he die?” I mused aloud, leaning down to examine the young man. I noticed a slick, purple substance coating his fingers—the remnants of some sort of plant. A solitary purple petal rested on his cuff, an incongruous whisper of beauty amidst the chaos.

“Chloe,” I called, holding the petal up to her. She cautiously took it in her delicate hands and inhaled deeply, her brow furrowing. “It’s angeltears, often used in healing and protection potions.”

“He stole that!” Orfec nearly shouted, inching closer to us with a trepidation that mirrored that of a rabbit caught in a hunter’s snare. “From my personal supply. It is exceedingly rare in these parts!”

I examined the body again, my chest tightening with unsettling curiosity. A small trickle of the same purple mixture dripped at the corner of the corpse's mouth. As I tilted the man’s head back to expose his lips, ready to unearth the horror behind his death, a deep voice broke the thick atmosphere from behind me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

As I turned, Mr. Orfec fled to the opposite end of the room, hyperventilating, the body no longer his foremost fear.

“Not unless you’re keen on becoming a creature of the night.”

Standing before us loomed two figures, encased in shadows that seemed almost to cling caressingly. The first was a tall young man with pale blonde hair, and the second, a pretty girl with dark gray skin and sleek black hair, both obscured behind thick black-rimmed sunglasses, as if concealing the very essence of their existence. It took me a moment to recognize them.

“Duncan, Ella,” I managed to say as I approached them, the air electric with tension. The silence from their arrival had been uncanny, even to my advanced hearing. “What on earth are two third-years doing here? Only fourth and fifth are permitted off school grounds due to our current predicament.”

“Same as you,” Ella replied, her tone belonging to a world much darker than ours, as she sauntered past me to kneel beside the body. “On a mission for our superiors.”

Her fingers brushed against the man’s lifeless mouth, unlocking a dreadful realization. His purple-stained tongue glimmered like poison under the dim light, a vibrant echo of danger.

“Give me your hand,” she commanded, her voice smooth yet laced with a chilling undertone.

Hesitantly, I extended my palm toward her, a subtle wariness running through me. She seized my wrist with a grip as cold and unyielding as death itself. Before I could react, she produced a knife from the depths of her boot, a gleam of malice dancing in the blade as it sliced across my palm. I struggled against her grip, but her strength defied her delicate appearance, her hold unrelenting as she poised my bleeding hand over the corpse's gaping maw.

As a few crimson drops fell, soaking into the mouth of the lifeless form, the air thickened with a Vampire's insatiable hunger that echoed through the silence like a distorted whisper. The creature’s incisors stretched grotesquely, sharp fangs curling into elongated daggers.

“Even in death, we cannot escape our hunger,” she murmured darkly, sealing the mouth of the creature shut.

“A Vampire?” I gasped, my mind reeling as she released my hand, Chloe rushing to mend the wound with her light magic, her concern a fragile light amidst the darkness encroaching upon us.

“A notable one at that,” Duncan mused, strolling closer, his hands casually tucked into his pockets projecting a mysterious air. “Demetrious Elwin.” He cast a glance at the corpse, an expression of indecipherable emotion crossing his features—was it regret, or perhaps a flicker of twisted admiration?

“He was from a rival clan, but kin all the same,” he clarified, a hint of disdain woven into his words. “He was the only Vampire on this continent capable of weaving magic, apart from our dear Niles, of course.”

“He was attempting to make a protection potion,” I observed, gesturing to the corpse’s fingers, still slick with the radiant substance.

“And he succeeded,” Ella noted softly, placing her hand upon the cold forehead of the lifeless Vampire. “But it wasn’t enough. Not against her.”

“Against who?” I pressed, unease curling in my stomach like an ancient serpent poised to strike.

“The Spindly Woman,” Duncan said, a twisted grin curling his lips. “At least that’s what Niles has taken to calling her. If he weren’t so steeped in magical prowess, we very well might be investigating his death right now.”

“He was attacked last night by a powerful creature,” Ella added, her voice low and haunting. “She sought to drain his soul—right from here.” She pointed at the gaping hole in the Vampire’s chest.

“And where is Niles now?” I inquired, desperation infusing my words.

“Back at our dormitory,” Duncan stated flatly. “We didn’t want to risk bringing him along.”

A deep, contemplative sigh escaped my lips, like vapor rising into a darkened sky. I had never encountered a creature so terrorizing as to have the ability to extract souls, let alone one that specifically targeted magical Vampires.

“Were any others attacked by this ‘Spindly Woman’?” I posed, placing my hand beneath my chin, grappling with the fragments of a harrowing riddle.

“Not that we know of, but strange occurrences have surged since the blood moon rose,” Ella said, her expression transitioning into something more desperate; almost fearful. “I can feel it, a hunger more potent than I’ve ever experienced, beckoning me to harm, to kill.”

She stood, her presence exuding an unsettling energy that mirrored the rising tide of darkness swirling around us.

“I was alive during the last Blood Moon, and I’ve never sensed anything quite like this before.”

As I placed my hand against my forehead, reality blurred into an ominous tapestry, threads of dread intertwining and distorting the truth. I felt like I was staring at an intricate puzzle, with too few pieces to reveal the horrifying picture lurking just out of reach.

“We must report this back to the Headmaster,” I declared, anxiety taut in my voice as shadows seemed to twist ominously within the room, foretelling an encroaching nightmare that had only just begun.

Olivia

I knocked softly on the wooden door that loomed before me—the entryway to Volcan’s office. After waking up in the clinic once again, I had been handed a letter by the head nurse, informing me that the headmaster wanted to meet with me. I found it curious how little effort I had to put into seeking him out.

“Come in.” The voice that beckoned from inside was strained and weak. I hesitated for a moment before slowly pushing the door open and stepping into the ornate office. It felt more like a library, filled with towering shelves packed with books, than a formal workspace. At the helm of a large wooden desk was Volcan; his striking black hair framed his sharply angular face, and his deep purple eyes sparkled as he sat with two enormous windows behind him, streaming sunlight into the room. His skin seemed even paler than it did last night, and his frame appeared slightly thinner.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as I took in the surroundings.

“Olivia,” he said warmly, standing to greet me with a gentle smile that instantly put me at ease. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to a very comfortable-looking armchair in front of his desk, and I walked in, closing the door softly behind me before sinking into the chair.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night,” he began, his brow furrowing as he appeared deep in thought.

“I… I killed the Hellhound,” I said, my voice trembling slightly as the memory replayed in my mind.

“Yes, you did,” he replied, a hint of admiration in his tone. “And with such incredible strength too. Strength that should be impossible at your young age.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly me,” I protested, the weight of my abilities feeling heavy on my shoulders. “I have something inside of me.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes nonchalant yet piercing. “I wasn’t sure until last night, but I am very well aware of the source of your powers. You see, I have something similar.”

“Really?” My heart raced, the possibility of sharing the experience igniting a spark of hope within me.

“Yes.” He let out a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair as memories flooded back. “The way I obtained this power is not a pleasant tale. My partner and I were sent on a mission to Whitewhick, the land of snow. It took us nearly a week to reach our destination. We were tasked with finding a Vampire that had been terrorizing the villagers for months, but what we stumbled upon was much worse. The creature led us into a dark cave, deep underground. It wanted us to follow, tempting us as we cautiously navigated through winding tunnels until we found something horrific—a monster trapped in a cage. I can never forget its twisted, malnourished form as it begged us—pleaded us to let it out. Its eyes and skin were as black as coal. Its words were twisted promises of wealth, recognition—anything we desired, in exchange for releasing it. I did not falter, but my partner, drawn by the desperation in the creature’s voice, read the runes on the cage. With a horrific flash, the beast was sucked into his very being, and I’ll never forget the blood-curdling screams that escaped his lips as it happened.”

“What happened to him?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, fearful of the answer.

“He died.” Volcan's tone was heavy with memory, sadness pooling in his purple eyes. “But he lived with that beast for a long time. This power was not meant for mere mortals.” He placed his hand over his chest, his expression shadowed. “It slowly drained the life from him, as it does to me now. On his deathbed, he transferred his power to me, cursing me to the same dark fate.”

He looked up, meeting my gaze. “But I’m curious—how are you feeling right now? A display of that power would leave Marcus or myself incapacitated for days. Yet you seem fine.”

“I feel fine,” I remarked, trying to articulate the inexplicable energy bubbling within me. In fact, I felt more alive than ever, like I had just awoken from the best, most rejuvenating sleep.

“How did you come across this power?” he inquired, an eyebrow arched in intrigue.

“I—I don’t know,” I stuttered, feeling exposed and vulnerable. “The first time I felt it was just a few days ago.”

Volcan’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The transfer was excruciating,” he remarked, almost questioning my reality. “Surely you would remember such pain.”

“I don’t,” I replied, my voice trailing off as I tucked a loose hair behind my ear, squirming under his burning gaze.

He peered into my eyes, his own flickering back and forth as if searching for something deeper within me.

“Headmaster?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“Yes?” he replied, still locked on my eyes.

“What is the name of the thing inside you?” I felt my heart race as anticipation coursed through my veins. I had a hunch, but I needed confirmation.

He stared at me intensely for a brief moment before finally speaking.

“Et’r.”

My heart sank like a stone.

“Ah!” I gasped, jumping up from my chair, an electric wave of realization hitting me. Volcan’s expression turned to one of shock.

“It’s you!”

“What’s me?” he replied, confusion mingling with surprise on his elven features.

“You are the spawn! The one the Dark Matron is trying to kill.”

“The Dark Matron?” he asked, brow furrowing even more as he struggled to grasp my words.

“A few days ago, Khxlynd’r, my source of power, spoke a prophecy through me.” My adrenaline surged as I raced to articulate my thoughts. “It spoke of the Dark Matron and how she would try to return to the world. It said she needed to kill her child, who resides in this school, and she will attempt to do so the moment the blood moon rises. She needs to slay seven creatures of her creation to regain her full strength; one of which is her spawn. I don’t think it was meant to be literal—I believe it refers to the one who carries her powers, the power of Et’r. She was his champion, the vessel who brought his power from her world into ours. The spawn would be the next in line, the newest carrier of that dark energy.”

He stared at me, shock and confusion etched on his face.

“I initially thought it was Niles, being a Vampire and one of her creations. Khxlynd’r mentioned ‘a child touched by darkness,’ and Et’r’s power embodies darkness.”

Volcan took a moment to digest this information, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

“I think you might be right,” he finally said, his voice heavy with the weight of realization. “But as you can see, I am in no state to battle the Dark Matron. This power has taken too much from me already.”

“Could you transfer it?” I asked desperately, my hands shaking slightly as the implications became clear. “To someone else?”

“I couldn’t possibly curse another with this fate,” he retorted, clenching his fist as though to guard against the very notion.

“Then we will protect you,” I declared, a surge of determination solidifying my voice. “All of us will stand together. We will not let the Dark Matron return—no matter the cost.”

Volcan's gaze held mine, a flicker of hope igniting within his troubled eyes. “Then we fight together.” The finality in his tone echoed through the ornate office, sealing our pact. We had a battle ahead of us, and failure was not an option.

Niles

I stood at the heart of the circular sigil I had painstakingly painted onto the floor of our dorm earlier that morning. The air buzzed with a potent mix of anticipation and trepidation. Duncan and Ella had just arrived back on campus, their expressions a medley of curiosity and concern as they took in the scene. My gaze drifted toward the candles arranged meticulously around the circle; their flames had all extinguished, leaving behind a lingering scent of burnt wax and an eerie darkness.

“Infernus ignis!” I commanded, my voice echoing within the confined space as I willed each candle to reignite. With an explosive flicker, flames ignited, but they quickly settled into a steady, rhythmic flicker that cast dancing shadows on the walls.

“Loquere ad me,” I intoned, feeling the energy shift as the flames morphed into a captivating hue of purple. Wisps of smoke spiraled upward from each candle, coalescing in a mesmerizing dance, intertwining in the air to form a singular, ghostly visage right before my eyes. As the smoke solidified into the ethereal image of a face, I offered a respectful bow.

“Lord Chiril,” I uttered reverently, the name echoing with a weight that carried centuries of respect.

“Niles, Duncan, Ella,” Chiril responded, his spectral voice reverberating softly, like the whisper of wind through ancient trees. “What news do you bring?”

Ella stepped forward, her voice steady yet laced with urgency. “Our suspicions were correct. Demetrious is dead.”

“How unfortunate,” Chiril replied, a plume of smoke curling from his lips, each word falling like a shadow in the dim light.

Duncan, his brow furrowed in worry, asked, “What shall we do?”

“We must protect Niles at all costs,” Chiril said firmly, pivoting his spectral face toward me, his ghostly visage emanating an air of authority. “If this ‘Spindly Woman’ comes for him again, we must not allow him to be taken.”

Ella’s sharp intake of breath filled the silence. “There’s something bigger at play here. The two head students were at the site of his death as well. Whatever is happening, the school is onto it too.”

Chiril’s expression shifted to one of grave contemplation, the blowing smoke swirling around him like a protective barrier. “It might be best to keep playing along for now,” he advised solemnly, his voice thick with caution. “We’ve already found what we’re looking for, but extracting her will prove difficult now. I won’t put you at risk.”

“What do you want us to do?” Duncan pressed, his concern for our safety evident.

“Put the mission on hold for now,” Chiril decreed, the resolve in his voice like iron. “For the moment, your top priority is to protect Niles and gain the school’s trust.”

As the weight of the revelation settled around us, we all bowed our heads in unison as the smoke began to dissipate, Chiril’s face fading into the ether. The flickering flames of the candles slowly extinguished one by one, leaving us enveloped in silence and shadows.

We exchanged wary glances, the gravity of our task clear. One thing was certain: we stood on the precipice of something monumental, and there could be no compromises; we had to succeed.

With resolve ignited within us, we readied ourselves for the challenges to come, knowing that our lives depended on our next moves.

As the last ember flickered out, a finality enveloped the room, marking the end of one chapter and the daunting beginning of another.

We had a job to do, and there was no turning back.