The harsh glare of the operating room lights cast a bright halo around Thomas as he lay on the hospital bed. Without his sunglasses, he felt exposed, vulnerable to the unknown that lay ahead.
"Just relax, don’t fight it, and it will be over soon," the nurse reassured him, her voice a soothing presence in the sterile room.
Thomas closed his eyes, inhaling deeply in an attempt to quell the rising tide of anxiety. The nurse's hands gently rested on his forehead as she murmured, "I dormi."
His breathing slowed, deepening into a tranquil rhythm as he slipped into a profound slumber.
With a nod from the nurse, the doctor began his work, chanting softly, "Ossa, carnes, cutem, nervosque tibi dono, nova vita ex hoc corpore reples."
In response to the incantation, the stump of Thomas's arm began to stir, bones elongating and knitting together to form the framework of a new limb. Flesh followed suit, wrapping around the newly formed structure until the skin sealed it all together, restoring his arm to its former state.
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Penelope sat in the softly lit room, her fingers playing nervously as she glanced around, trying to find solace in the calming atmosphere. Despite the warmth of the surroundings and the soothing sounds, her nerves refused to settle. Unlike the stark interrogation room Theo found himself in, this space offered stability with its comforting ambiance and steady furniture. When Diana entered, Penelope couldn't help but flinch, but her anxiety ebbed away as she noticed the warmth in Diana's smile and the cup of tea she brought.
"I can’t remember anything," Penelope admitted, her voice trembling.
"I'm aware. Honestly, considering the circumstances, it's probably better for your mental
state if you don’t remember. Plus, we already have a clear understanding of what happened, so there's no need to delve further," Diana reassured her.
"What... What exactly happened?" Penelope asked, her curiosity mixed with reluctance.
"One of your friends, Federica, cast a spell that proved to be too powerful. Instead of summoning a demon as intended, she inadvertently summoned the entire house to hell," Diana explained.
"Is she...?" Penelope's voice trailed off.
"We don’t know. We couldn't find her remains, but given the intensity of the incident, it's unlikely she survived. It was fourth-degree overchanneling," Diana informed her.
Penelope felt tears welling up in her eyes as she clutched her mug of tea tighter, seeking solace in its warmth.
"Would you like to take a break?" Diana offered softly.
"I'm fine, it's just... a lot," Penelope managed to say, her voice shaky.
Diana glanced down momentarily, revealing a hint of how Penelope's distress affected her, but Penelope remained unaware, patiently waiting until she regained her composure.
"Penelope, you have a bright future ahead of you, and I'd hate to see it go to waste," Diana said gently.
Penelope felt her chest tighten inexplicably.
"While reviewing your past, I stumbled upon several concerning memories," Diana continued.
She knew! Penelope's mind froze, rendering her unable to respond.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to press any charges. I see that you've followed the proper channels for your university application, and I've helped push through your background check. However, if anyone catches wind of your activities before you start university, it could complicate matters. I'd like you to put a hold on your extracurricular activities for now," Diana instructed.
Penelope remained frozen, shocked by the turn of events. Initially, she thought her life was over, but now she realized she was getting closer to her dream.
"I... I don't know what to say," Penelope finally managed to utter.
Diana smiled and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Just keep your nose clean, okay?"
After enduring that exhausting ordeal, Penelope desperately needed a respite. Fortunately, she had a scheduled appointment with a communer, timed perfectly to offer her much needed consolation. Exiting the cab, she stepped into a cozy office, infused with the comforting scent of sage. After checking in with the receptionist, she settled in, passing the time on her phone until a voice interrupted her reverie.
"Penelope Scarlet."
Raising her gaze, Penelope spotted Mr. Garcia, his expression tinged with surprise.
"Oh, hi Penelope. I didn’t expect you back until next month," remarked Mr. Garcia.
"It’s a cheat month. I just really miss them," Penelope nervously chuckled.
"I understand," Mr. Garcia replied with a sad smile.
They proceeded to a stark white room, adorned only with a single, softly glowing rune on the ceiling.
"Effice visionem domus," intoned Mr. Garcia, and suddenly, the room transformed, morphing into a warm, inviting living space, complete with a photograph of a 7-year-old Penelope and her parents on the console. Penelope visibly relaxed, her breathing steadied, and a gentle light flickered in her eyes.
"Ex velo voco eos qui nominantur Circe Scarlet et Edward Scarlet," Mr. Garcia chanted once more, as a faint ethereal wisp materialized into the form of Edward. Another wisp attempted to manifest but failed, causing Penelope to freeze, her already pale complexion causing her to be even more ghostly than her deceased father.
"I’m sorry... I’ll give you some time alone," Mr. Garcia said before quietly exiting the room.
"Hi, pea," greeted Edward looking to the side before his expression turned solemn. "I see. I hope she’s at peace."
Penelope burst into tears. "I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough. I’ll get better, I swear I’ll..."
Her father interjected, "Listen, Penelope. I don’t want you to make this your life. I want you to live for yourself."
"But I have to bring you back so we can be a family... It’s really hard without you, and now I’ll never see Mom again. It’s not fair; she should have had way more time," Penelope lamented through her tears.
Edward tried to comfort his daughter, but his spectral hands passed through her, a reminder of their ethereal divide. "I’m sorry, Pea, but this road, it’s not the one I want for you. I want you to be happy and look to the future, not cling to the past. I’m already dead," he said softly.
Penelope continued to sob, the ache of losing her parents an old wound that refused to heal.
After the bittersweet reunion with her father, Penelope found herself back in the cab, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, a veil of melancholy draped over her features as she slowly drifted off to sleep. In her dream, she was seven years old again, nestled in a field of flowers, embraced by both her parents. The sun showered them with its warm rays until suddenly, the light faded, and the sun vanished. The vibrant flowers withered, their life force draining away. Her parents began to lose their essence, their bodies growing pale and cold, lips taking on a macabre hue of blue. Decay set in, flesh yielding to grotesque rot as maggots and insects claimed their forms. Yet, young Penelope clung to them desperately, yearning for just a bit more warmth, one final embrace.
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image [https://i.ibb.co/WHT7mgj/Designer-6.png]
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"We're here, wake up," her father's voice spoke from his lifeless form.
"We're here, wake up," echoed the cab driver's voice.
Penelope stirred, still groggy from her slumber.
"Sorry, thank you," she murmured as she slowly exited the cab and made her way back to the mansion. Stepping inside, she marveled at the pristine beauty and luxury surrounding her, as if nothing had ever disturbed its perfection. Erick descended the stairs.
"Hey Penny, where did you go?" he inquired casually.
"I was visiting my parents," Penelope replied with a tinge of melancholy in her voice.
Erick observed Penelope closely; her eyes were slightly swollen, her nose tinged with red. Drawing nearer, he began to speak, only to be interrupted as Penelope enveloped him in a tight hug.
"Please," she whispered softly.
"Okay," Erick acquiesced, uttering the incantation "Laetus esto."
Suddenly, Penelope's demeanor shifted, her expression transforming into one of cheerfulness as she released herself from Erick's embrace.
"Sorry and thank you," she said with newfound brightness.
"No problem, it's cool," Erick replied.
"Would you mind hanging around for a while? I'd like to stay like this, if it's not too much trouble," Penelope requested.
"Nahh, plus I was only gonna go grab a bite to eat. You wanna come with?" Erick offered.
"Lead the way," Penelope accepted, and together they departed the mansion.
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The sun hung high in the sky, its warm rays caressing the cemetery. It was a picturesque day, with freshly cut grass and birds chirping joyously, welcoming the arrival of spring. However, for the mourners gathered there, the tranquil scene did little to ease their sorrow. As the priest delivered his sermon, tears flowed freely, particularly from Amber's mothers Erika and Isabell, who were inconsolable.
Kyle fought to hold back his own tears, struggling to remain composed as he grappled with memories of the night he shared with Amber, desperate to remember what transpired. Cynthia, meanwhile, felt a heavy weight on her chest, unsure if it was the haunting vision of Amber or something else entirely. When the priest concluded his sermon, he turned to Amber's parents and offered them the opportunity to bid their final farewells.
With a solemn nod, Amber's mother approached the closed casket. The priest then invoked, "Ex velo voco eos qui nominantur Amber Griffin!"
The room fell silent as everyone awaited a response, but none came. Yet, Cynthia felt a sharp pain in her chest, as if an invisible force was tearing at her insides. She suppressed the urge to cry out, clenching her teeth in anguish.
The priest repeated the incantation, but still, there was no sign of Amber's soul. Cynthia's distress intensified, drawing concern from Theo, who stood by her side, though he remained silent.
"Rare as it is, it seems that her soul has already passed beyond the veil. May she find peace," the priest solemnly declared.
Unable to bare the overwhelming emotions any longer, Erika quietly left the church, seeking solace outside its confines.
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Life pressed on despite the lingering sorrow, and the students found themselves returning to their routines. Kyle gathered his history books, noting the sparse attendance in his classroom. Making his way to the arcane wing of the school, he entered Mr. Matheney's class, which seemed unusually crowded with eleven students, including himself. Taking a seat beside Cynthia, Kyle observed the subdued atmosphere, with only intermittent greetings exchanged among the classmates.
Mr. Matheney entered the room with a stern demeanor, beginning roll call.
“Erick Blaze.”
“Here,” responded Erick.
“Alexander Bolton.”
“Present,” affirmed Alexander.
“Alice Brown.”
“Here,” replied Alice.
“Kyle Detmer.”
“Present,” confirmed Kyle.
“Leah Erickson.”
“Here,” acknowledged Leah.
“Zack Gordon.”
The students exchanged confused glances, and some shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Zack was no longer among the living, so Matheney's call felt unsettling. Pausing for effect, Matheney proceeded.
Kyle braced himself, knowing what was coming next.
“Amber Griffin.”
Once again, there was no response to the name. Matheney's gaze lingered on Kyle, who averted his eyes, feeling the weight of the moment.
“[redacted] Jenkins.”
“Yo,” Jenkins answered.
This was a regular but strange occurrence during roll call. Every time Mr. Matheny called out Jenkins’s first name, it seemed to escape everyone’s minds not a second later.
“Rob Jones.”
Silence followed Matheney's call.
“Federica Martel.”
As Matheney spoke, all eyes turned to Erick, who met the gaze without flinching. An uncomfortable hush fell over the class, the tension palpable as Federica's involvement in the incident was still fresh in everyone's minds.
“Rick Martinez.”
“Hey,” Rick replied.
“Cynthia Marvel.”
“Here,” Cynthia answered softly.
“Tim Mathews.”
No response came, and Alice looked down with a solemn expression.
“Joe Miles.”
Once again, silence met Matheney's call, and Rick glanced at the empty seat beside him.
“Roseanne Nakamura.”
“Yeah,” Roseanne muttered.
“Marcus Oles.”
“Here,” Marcus chimed in.
“Penelope Scarlet.”
“Present,” Penelope whispered.
“Josh Smith.”
Again, there was no reply. Matheney's disappointment was evident in his expression as he surveyed the room.
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Matheney's frustration boiled over as he slammed his hands on his desk, his gaze burning with anger as he addressed the class.
"So, it seems that all my lessons about the dangers of magic were lost on you," he stated sharply.
"It wasn't us, man. It was Federica," Jenkins interjected.
Matheney paused, taking a deep breath. The class braced for an explosion of anger, but instead, his tone softened.
"I suppose my anger is misplaced," he conceded, then continued, "Let this serve as a lesson on the dangers of magic. Half of what remains of your school year is sitting in this class."
Unease rippled through the students as they exchanged uneasy glances. This was a heavy truth to confront.
"But let this also motivate you to continue your studies. I assumed you all survived because you're the best arcane students, but if you were stronger, perhaps you could have protected more," Matheney added.
The truth in Matheney's words hung heavily in the air. Kyle couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing whatever events had transpired, he couldn't protect Amber.
"However, I've read the police report since the case is closed and it's been made public. Many of you have Miss Scarlet to thank," Matheney announced, directing everyone's attention to Penelope, who shrunk slightly in her seat, overwhelmed by the attention.
“Why?” Roseanne inquired.
"Well, Miss Nakamura, many of you had wounds that were closed upon resurfacing, and the only one able to use vitamancy spells with you, was Miss Scarlet," Matheney explained.
Penelope felt a mix of embarrassment and pride as all eyes turned to her. She was grateful she could help, even if she couldn't fully remember it.
"With that said, lessons from now on will be different. They'll focus on combat and keeping you safe. Some will cover university-level material, but I'll be teaching them to you early," Matheney announced.
Marcus clenched his fist excitedly, whispering, "Finally."
"But for those who can't cast stable spells yet, I'll be holding extra classes after school. If you choose not to attend and fall behind, that's on you," Matheney concluded, his words lingering in the tense atmosphere of the classroom.
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Clumsily maneuvering the door of his dorm room, Thomas dropped his bag by his side and shut the door behind him. His room was strewn with clothes haphazardly tossed about, but such disorder hardly registered with Thomas at the moment; all he craved was more sleep. He promptly flopped onto his bed, his favorite pair of shades finding their way back onto his face. Just as he was on the brink of drifting off, the door swung open. Thanks to his glasses, Thomas didn’t need to glance up to identify the intruder.
"For fuck's sake, Wynter," Thomas muttered, annoyance evident in his tone.
Wynter's eyes widened at the sight of Thomas.
"Your arm, are you okay, love? I heard what happened," she inquired.
Thomas sat up, displaying both his hands to Wynter. She carried herself with an unspoken elegance, bordering on regal, juxtaposed with her wholesome appearance.
image [https://i.ibb.co/sK174VQ/5f03cc36-8c50-42d3-bdfe-f9c09df2e1bd.jpg]
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"Wow, it’s completely fixed," Wynter remarked as she reached for Thomas's arm to examine it. He pulled away and reclined back.
"What's wrong?" Wynter asked.
"I'm waiting for an apology. I wouldn’t have to go through all of this if it weren’t for certain people," Thomas retorted.
"I'm not going to apologize for kicking you out, mate. You can’t bloody go around reading people’s minds, and no one told you to crash a high school party," Wynter countered.
"You guys are so goddamn sensitive. I was drunk," Thomas justified.
"That's not an excuse—" Wynter began to argue but stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "Look, mate, you were being a nob, alright? People are only going to tolerate that for a certain amount of time," she said in a calmer tone.
"Let’s just play devil's advocate for a second; your sister’s even worse," Thomas added.
"I’m glad you’re alright," Wynter said before exiting his room.
Thomas was about to lie back down but hesitated.
"Can’t I get a fucking break, Sommer, leave!" he shouted as his door opened and closed.
He settled back onto his bed, finally able to enjoy his long-awaited slumber.
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In the midst of Kyle's Arcana class, Mr. Matheney prepared to delve into more advanced material, deviating from the standard curriculum.
"One of the things we don’t usually teach at the high school levels are Leyline types; today, we are going to cover the very basics," announced Matheney.
The students, save for Cynthia and Erick, appeared puzzled.
"These identify how your leyline systems are built and how you cast spells, cantrips, and use endo runic items. But first, who can remind me of the Leyline constitution formula?" inquired Matheney.
Alice eagerly raised her hand.
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image [https://i.ibb.co/nc6mF12/8b77e12e-258f-4bff-991f-27140858a81e.jpg]
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"Miss Brown," acknowledged Matheney.
"LC = 1 AHV + (MS x 10). I also had a question; do these types have anything to do with the aspects we use?" queried Alice.
"Correct on the formula. As for your question, only one type does, but really anyone can use any aspect provided they study. But first, let’s look over them and what they actually do," replied Matheney.
He turned towards the whiteboard and began explaining, "Alright, let’s review the very basics of leyline types. Users of this type incur less AV when upcasting past their maximum. Who can remind me what an AV is?"
Marcus's attention began to wane. "Dude, I’m bored," he whispered to Erick.
Erick whispered back, "Animum tuum adverte," and Marcus suddenly found himself able to focus on Mr. Matheney's lesson.
Roseanne raised her hand. "It stands for Aetheric Volts, it’s the unit by which we measure aether going into our leylines."
Matheney nodded approvingly. "Correct. Usually, when upcasting past your maximum, you incur an additional 50 AV or 5 ADV to your leylines on top of the AV you incur by the spell. But a lion leyline type user would only build up 25 AV," he explained, scanning the room.
"Mr. Oles, what is upcasting?" questioned Matheney.
Marcus, now fully concentrated thanks to Erick’s spell, answered, "Upcasting is casting a spell at a higher level than the original spell. Upcasting past your maximum is casting a spell past the circle which you can usually cast. For example, I can cast up to two circles. If I cast a one-circle spell as a two-circled spell, I would only take in 10 AV. But if I cast a one or two-circled spell as a three-circled spell, I would take in 50 AV," he explained with a hint of pride.
The rest of the class looked at him somewhat bemused. Marcus was no fool, but such detailed answers were uncharacteristic of him. Matheney, however, narrowed his eyes.
"I would be more impressed if you could do that without the assistance of Mr. Blaze," remarked Matheney.
Erick's eyes shifted downward, his expression revealing annoyance, while Marcus appeared like a deer caught in headlights.
"I will give you points for effort; however, since you used yourself for your little example, I'll correct you and say that you’d only incur 25 AV, since you're a lion type. Granted, you did not know this," continued Matheney.
Cynthia looked at Kyle attentively, taking notes. Her usual statuesque expression turned into one of remorse. Sensing her gaze, Kyle nervously looked up. When he saw her looking at him, he felt as if she was pitying him. What had he done this time?
"Did... did I do something wrong?" Kyle whispered.
"I'll tell you later," said Cynthia as she went back to listening to Matheney’s lesson.
Mr. Matheney was about to get back to his lesson when Jenkins interrupted, "And what’s mine, dude."
Matheney sighed. "I wanted to reveal them at the end of the lesson, but I guess I could do it now."
He retrieved a sheet of paper from his desk. "For the record, I will be revealing ALL my classes' leyline types."
"For the lion types we have: Mr. Oles, Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Miles, Mr. Gordon, Mr. Martinez."
"So, all the idiots," Roseanne mumbled.
"For the serpent types we have: Mr. Detmer, Miss Brown, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Bolton."
Alice grimaced upon hearing this; that type didn’t sound pleasant.
"For the falcon types we have: Miss Scarlet, Miss Erickson, Mr. Matthews, and Mr. Jones."
"And for the wyrm types we have: Miss Marvel and Miss Martel."
A few classmates glanced at Cynthia, uneasy about this association with Federica.
"For the oak types we have: Mr. Blaze and Miss Griffin."
"Maybe you should have gone with her instead; she was cute," whispered Marcus to Erick as he rolled his eyes.
"And finally, for the golem type we only have Miss Nakamura. Now, how about we actually start learning about them?" said Matheney as he turned back to the whiteboard to continue his lesson. “ Lion type leylines are thicker than the others, the and bearers are usually physically resilient, furthermore they are much better at resisting the effects of overchanneling.” Matheney continued as a few of the students minds already started to wander.
As the sun began its descent, Kyle and Cynthia strolled toward the nearest portal station, enveloped in an uncomfortable silence that once would have been filled by Amber, but now remained vacant.
"So... Serpent type, that's interesting. If I understood Matheney correctly, it means I use less AV when casting, right?" Kyle ventured.
"Half right, as usual. You use less AV only for the spell you're casting, but not for other circumstances like quick casting, upcasting past your maximum, aspect changing, cons..."
Cynthia's explanation was cut short by Kyle's interruption.
"Okay, okay. You could have just said I'm wrong." Kyle interjected.
"If you don’t want to be corrected, you shouldn’t be wrong. And since when do you have the nerve to cut me off?" Cynthia's icy gaze bore into him.
"Uh... I... uh... you know... didn't you have something to tell me?" Kyle attempted to redirect the conversation.
Cynthia's gaze shifted downward, as if contemplating. "You, okay?" Kyle inquired.
Cynthia lifted her gaze once more. "Yeah, actually, I’m not a hundred percent sure. And you're already as annoying as it is," she retorted.
As they reached the station, it bustled with students and a few office workers, all forming lines to pass through the portals. Cynthia and Kyle bid each other farewell as they headed toward different portals. Stepping into the abyss of the portal, Kyle experienced an eternal second where time lost its meaning. The darkness was chilling, prompting him to wonder if this was what death felt like. In that timeless moment, Kyle emerged from the portal, hurried along by security as another individual prepared to pass through.
Finally, back home, Kyle kicked off his shoes and slumped onto the couch, his new black cat leaping onto his lap and purring contentedly.
"Hey, Shadow," Kyle greeted the cat as he stroked it, feeling the tension drain away with each stroke.
"I wish Amber were here. She would have loved you," Kyle murmured, his eyes growing somber.
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Solomon sat in his study, immersed in his notes and typing fervently on his computer.
His furrowed brow betrayed his intense concentration, until a sudden realization lit up his eyes. Swiftly, he rose from his seat, producing two stopwatches. With precision, he triggered both simultaneously, placing one on his desk and pocketing the other. With a chant, "Mitte me per spatium et tempus ad planitiem inferni," he vanished into a swirl of azure aether, reappearing unfazed in the infernal realm. Observing the stopwatch, he repeated the incantation, "Mitte me per spatium et tempus ad planum materialem," and returned, comparing the stopwatches. They matched perfectly, displaying identical times. A smile graced Solomon's lips as he resumed his notetaking.
Meanwhile, in his atelier, Theo was engrossed in experimenting with new potions when Solomon emerged from a portal before him.
"Normal people usually call first, or at least have the courtesy to ring the doorbell," Theo remarked, mildly annoyed.
"Normal people don’t usually figure out a flaw in an entire aetheric aspect," Solomon replied, dropping a document on Theo's desk, his expression expectant.
Theo sighed, picking up the document. His eyes widened in amazement as he read. "You figured it out, the way to cast interplanar spells with no time dilation," he exclaimed.
Solomon smirked proudly. "And if AlchymaLife was the only one privy to this information, that would certainly give you an advantage when collecting extraplanar ingredients."
"That it would," Theo agreed, giving Solomon an expectant look.
Solomon maintained his gaze. "40%," he proposed.
Theo countered, "33%."
"Sounds good," Solomon agreed.
"Keep this between us; we'll announce it at the next board meeting," instructed Theo.
Solomon inquired, "Will Detmer be there?"
"No, but it’s fine. His last boy is starting university in the fall; he'll get bored and probably come to us," Theo reassured.
"Hmm, I don’t share your optimism. The council may ask for him when you meet with them tomorrow," Solomon cautioned.
"The chances of that are low. While his research played a part in her creation, I and I alone brought her into being," Theo asserted.
"Fair enough. Have your assistant put our agreement in writing; I must go see a friend," Solomon instructed, beginning an incantation. Theo interrupted, "Just one more thing before you leave."
Solomon turned back, curious. "What is it?"
"When the girl attempted to summon a demon from a spell in your library, what kind of demon was it?" Theo inquired.
"The Archdemon of the Shvur-Zeeler," Solomon replied.
"Shvur-Zeeler? I thought your soul meant more to you," Theo remarked.
"It does, but my library contains a spell to summon all the archdemons of hell. I thought it would be a nice challenge to attempt summoning some of them," Solomon explained.
"Prideful as ever. So, can you summon all of them?" Theo asked.
"All except one—the Shvur-Zeeler," Solomon admitted, his brows subtly knitting together.
"That's odd. What prevents you? Can you not narrow down his composite wave function?" Theo probed.
"I can, but he changes it every time I try to summon him," Solomon revealed.
Theo's brows furrowed. "What kind of demonic art can do that?"
"Of the sixty-six registered demonic arts we know... there is none," Solomon confirmed.
"I've never known you to give up easily," Theo remarked.
"Well, thanks to someone, we'll have seven Archmagi in the city tomorrow," Solomon said cryptically.
A few knocks interrupted their conversation, prompting their attention to the door.
"Looks like you have company; I’ll see you next week," Solomon remarked before incanting, conjuring a portal, and departing.
Cynthia entered the room, her expression curious, and took a seat. Theo narrowed his eyes. “Do you have something to tell me?” he inquired.
“You asked me here,” Cynthia replied.
“It’s unlike you to keep things from me; you think I haven’t noticed?” Theo pressed.
Cynthia tried to maintain her composure, but there was a slight twitch in her expression.
“Alright, keep it to yourself then. I just want to make sure you’re ready for tomorrow,” Theo stated.
“I am. Is that everything?” Cynthia asked.
Theo simply turned back to his potions without saying a word.
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Diana navigated her car through the bustling streets of New Nox City, a vibrant metropolis cloaked in the shimmering cloak of night. Towering skyscrapers, etched with ancient runes, adorned the skyline, casting an otherworldly glow upon the city below. Runic skateboards darted through the air, their riders weaving effortlessly through the urban maze. Portal stations disgorged streams of commuters, eager to return to the comforts of home after a long day's work. Above, the sky was a canvas of illusions, painted with vibrant advertisements for the latest movies, games, and products, a spectacle that, while perhaps a touch tacky, still managed to captivate the eye.
Parking her car near a quaint restaurant, Diana made her way inside where Elliot awaited her. Their greeting was tender, a soft peck on the lips exchanged between them before they settled at a candlelit table, enveloped in the warm ambiance of the restaurant. As they indulged in a romantic dinner, dessert arrived, a tantalizing tiramisu meant for sharing.
Diana's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, this is my favorite dessert!"
Elliot's response was laced with sarcasm. "Oh, should I be jealous?"
Diana's smirk betrayed her playful demeanor. "Yeah, totally. I think I'm going to take this tiramisu home tonight."
Before Elliot could reply, Diana's tone shifted, her attention suddenly drawn elsewhere. They exchanged a glance, a shared understanding passing between them as Diana answered her phone, her voice taking on a professional edge.
"Detective Esposito," she replied, her eyes widening as she absorbed the information on the other end of the line. With a swift motion, she rose from her seat, rummaging through her purse in a flurry of movement.
"I've got this, don't worry. Go save the city," Elliot reassured her, his words carrying a blend of pride and concern.
Diana's smile was grateful as she leaned in to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. "Thank you," she murmured before retrieving a vial from her purse, swiftly downing its contents. As the liquid coursed through her veins, it worked its magic, swiftly sobering her from the effects of the alcohol she had consumed.
Diana's arrival at the scene, at the base of the towering skyscraper, didn't go unnoticed. Every gaze seemed to gravitate towards her, the crimson hue of her dress capturing the attention of the uniformed officers stationed there. As she stepped out of her car and made her way towards the building's entrance, a uniformed officer intercepted her path.
"Excuse me, miss, are you a resident here?" the officer inquired.
"It's me, Mitch," Diana snapped, her patience waning.
Mitch's expression shifted from confusion to recognition, his gaze darting between Diana's face and the rest of her attire. "Oh, sorry, Detective Esposito. It's just, well, you're... uh, unrecognizable today, uhm..."
Diana let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head in disdain before brushing past Mitch. As she ascended to the penthouse atop the skyscraper, a gruesome tableau greeted her — blood, limbs, and organs strewn haphazardly, with small crimson flames licking at the surfaces but refusing to spread. What had transpired here?
The elevator chimed behind Diana, drawing her attention. Stepping out were Richard and Detective Phineus Geier, engaged in a heated discussion.
"You're not taking this one from us," Richard asserted, his tone defiant.
Phineus, with his jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, couldn't resist a taunt. "Wow, Esposito, you are one hot mama. Looking to impress me?"
Diana rolled her eyes in response, unamused by Phineus's antics.
"Quick, Diana, before he steals this one from us too," Richard urged, a note of urgency in his voice.
Diana hesitated, torn between her duty to investigate and her weariness from relentless work. Phineus was insufferable, but she couldn't deny his competence. Perhaps he could solve the case as well as they could.
"Now, let's see who's the fucking psycho that did this. Mihi suam fabulam revela," Phineus intoned, invoking a spell.
But instead of witnessing a scene from the past, Phineus was met with darkness, save for a single eye staring back at him.
"Why did you let him do that?" Richard protested.
"I just—" Diana began, before Phineus's head abruptly exploded, showering Richard and Diana with gore. They stared at each other in shock and disbelief, the gruesome turn of events leaving them speechless.
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In the quiet of Kyle's bedroom, illuminated only by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, the young man lay sound asleep, his body weary from a long day of school. His cat, curled up on his desk, mirrored his slumber, a dark silhouette in the dimness of the room. Yet, amidst this peaceful scene, an unexpected presence lingered.
A hooded figure, draped in crimson robes, stood silently in the shadows, casting an ominous watch over Kyle's sleeping form. The air seemed to grow heavy with tension as the figure observed, its intentions veiled beneath the folds of its hood.
Sensing something amiss, the cat stirred from its slumber, its eyes flickering open to fix upon the mysterious visitor. In a surreal moment, the hooded figure turned towards the feline, acknowledging it with a respectful bow before vanishing into the darkness, leaving behind an eerie sense of unease in its wake.
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image [https://i.ibb.co/jkTWTQ7/2f1a9a3f-8462-43fb-97d0-8b367b365411.jpg]