At precisely 4:48 AM today, an ancient red shadowy figure, known in Majestean history as Infernal, decided to drop by our dorm balcony, eyes glowing like rubies and staring at me like I’d just swiped their favorite spot on the couch. Before I could even process the horror movie-like moment, Jairen went all action-hero on us and busted through our door, created a hole in the middle of the balcony, and sent the Infernal flying with an Evicting Spell elevated by his scythe. It vanished as if it was never there. The chaos of that early morning now felt like a distant, half-remembered dream and somehow amidst the lingering haze, we found ourselves in the lecture hall as Professor Darius, our Class Advisor, weaved his way through the rows of students, handing out study guides for the upcoming final exam. Won't they suspend the exam at this dire situation? The Infernal could come back y'know?
When he finally made it to my seat, his droopy jade-green eyes were a blend of doubt and irritation, as if he was torn between handing over the guide and tossing it into the nearest inferno. He placed the booklet on my desk with such careful slowness that it could’ve been a performance art piece. I leaned in and whispered, “Aren’t we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”
Professor Darius didn’t even blink. “Written tests are just as crucial as practical ones, so study hard, Ms. Volguardsen,” he drawled, his tone as dry as a desert wind. He continued distributing the guide with a nonchalance that suggested dealing with ancient monsters was merely part of his weekly routine.
Claude, my deskmate, looked over with an elbow propped up on the desk, his curiosity as calm as a cat lounging in the sun. “What elephant?” he asked, and I couldn’t help but chuckle and shake my head.
I snatched the study guide from my desk, my fingers tracing its spine with a light touch, trying to decipher how many pages it had by magic touch alone. I felt a faint electric jolt zipping up my finger, like the pages were buzzing to reveal all its secrets. I flipped the booklet open to the last page and my eyes zeroed in on the bottom right corner where the page number sat. “80 pages,” I blurted out, whipping my head to look at Claude. He was already fixed on me, his fingers midway through counting the pages himself.
He froze mid-count, “Eighty?” he breathed, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. “Oh, man,” he muttered, slumping in defeat.
I crammed the study guide into my leather satchel and cast a sidelong glance at Professor Darius, who had ambled back to his desk at the head of the room. He drew in a deep breath, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh that seemed to pull the very gravity of the universe into it. His hands planted firmly on the desk and stared straight ahead as if locked in an intense mental standoff with his own reflection. The look on his face was a mix of uneasiness and dread, making it obvious he was bracing himself from saying something he clearly wanted to avoid.
Claude leaned in, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and pulled out two silver guitar picks that seemed to capture every ounce of Dane Daring’s flashy rockstar aesthetic. Dane was the hottest name in Majesta, and his picks gleamed with the same intensity as his brand colors.
I blinked at them, my brain trying to process the sight. “Are those . . . the tickets for his Dare to Unveil Concert on April 12th?” I asked, barely able to keep my excitement in check.
Claude’s grin widened. “Bingo. VIP, no less. I already handed Maxima, Blanche, and Jolie theirs, so we’re all set. Clive’s going to drive us.” He pressed one of the titanium picks into my hand. It was about half the size of my finger, one side emblazoned with Dane Daring’s iconic band logo and the other with a Majestean runic code.
I traced the intricate design with my fingers, feeling like a kid with a golden ticket.
“Consider this an early birthday present, Ci,” Claude said, his warm smile adding a touch of magic to the moment. I nudged him gently, my way of saying thanks.
Now, I just have to figure out how to sneak out of the house.
“Eyes up front, everyone,” Professor Darius called with a tone that mixed authority and calm, his presence filling the room with an almost tangible weight. “As of 5:01 this morning, Arckwar Academy has initiated Level 8 of its security protocols,” he announced. The words struck like a tolling bell, a clear signal of looming danger, and an unsettling awareness settled over the room, even I felt the weight of it settle on my shoulders. Professor Darius’s voice, always deep and resonant with a slow, deliberate drawl, seemed to amplify the gravity of this announcement, making it all the more unnerving.
Level 8 is the second highest security protocol at Arckwar Academy, reserved for the most severe threats. The fact that a real Infernal—a creature believed to have been extinct since 1790—had visited our dormitory meant we were facing a serious unpredictable danger. And now, I was left wondering if this peril had anything to do with me—or whoever the Infernal had come for.
“The Principal Caster for the first time has . . . compromised student protocol,” he drawled, his voice the usual deep, gruff tone. “ . . . and suggested that each class be briefed on what had transpired earlier this morning. The Pillar of Warlock Campus believes that it is the right of students to be informed of the sudden danger we might face in the coming days. And not just here at Arckwar, I’m afraid, but possibly across all of Astranea.”
I glanced around the lecture hall, watching as everyone squirmed in their seats, whispering and huddling with their deskmates about the big reveal. I couldn’t help but wonder about Kaede, Jolene, Maxi, Blanche, and Nicco in their respective lecture halls—what must they be feeling right now? Just as I was about to tap into psychesentience—a bit of psychic eavesdropping—Principal Caster’s blue falco columbarius swooped down into the hall. As it descended, its body began to expand and morph. Its wings transformed from pale blue feathers into a dark blue leather cloak that brushed the floor. Silver outlines of feathers and wings were embossed into the cloak, giving it a slight shimmer from the afternoon sun gleaming through the windows. He stood towering at six foot, an imposing figure that commanded attention.
Valdome Caster, the Pillar of Warlock Campus, is a figure of unparalleled distinction, hailing directly from the illustrious line of Castraverde—of the Twelve War Veils, the first line of Warlocks. Principal Caster’s look could only be described as “mystically moody.” Picture a gaunt, elongated, angular face that looks like it was chiseled out of granite, complete with high cheekbones, a nose as sharp as a dagger, and a mouth that’s always in a permanent pout. Though this adds to his stern countenance. His eyes are a piercing, steely lilac, always locked in a penetrating gaze that suggests he sees right through you. Dark shadows under his eyes tinged with bizarre pinkish-orange undertones that contrast sharply with his pale, almost ghostly skin, accentuate the weariness and intensity that defines him. His platinum silver hair, cascading in waves, framed his long face until it disappeared into his neck.
But the pièce de résistance? Those eyebrows. Heavy, dark, and slanted so dramatically upward that they make him look like he’s perpetually annoyed by the smallest of things—like someone putting pineapple on his pizza.
Principal Caster turned to us with a purposeful stride. “Good day, students of Class Eleven,” he greeted, his voice gravelly and weathered, perfectly mirroring the years etched on his face. Despite its roughness, there was a certain softness to his tone, a mellowness that spoke of countless experiences and deep wisdom.
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Professor Darius took a step back, positioning himself near the rear of the room, leaning casually against the board while Principal Caster soaked up the limelight he so richly deserved. Principal Caster was a marvel in his own right, not just for his imposing heavy leather cloak but for his flawless masterful command of Echoform Magic. This spell is as straightforward as it is extraordinary: it allows the Warlock to create duplicates of themselves, each functioning independently while remaining tethered to the original. Imagine being in two—or even hundred—places at once and in disguise! What a dream!
The Principal’s gaze swept across the room, as if he were tallying the attendance right then and there—because, of course, he could. It was a skill that only added to his already impeccable reputation.
Alright, back to where I left off. While Echoform Magic is a known spell from the Advanced Codex, its execution varied greatly among users, depending on how a Warlock can juggle the magic’s duration and scale. What truly set Principal Caster apart from the rest was his unparalleled expertise. He could not only Echo himself but he can do so with his denizens—familiars—he calls Echo Beasts. He commands six of them, each capable of transforming and mimicking his appearance and advanced functions. Remarkably, these duplicates can multiply almost endlessly and can endure for days—rumor has it that he could create up to three hundred from a single Echo Beast, a staggering upgrade from his ancestor’s record of one hundred seventy-eight.
This turned out to be an ingenious method for stealth, espionage, and disguise—far superior to anything a normal denizen could muster. Naturally, Echoform being high-level magic, only a selected few have mastered it, and by “few,” I meant Principal Caster. No one has outdone him . . . yet. Plus, it’s his family’s magical specialty, of course his expertise in this area is beyond generic magic. He primarily employs this magic at Arckwar, his near-permanent residence, where he diligently oversees both staff and students. His main denizen is the pale blue falco columbarius named Morkan, who flew in with a serious attitude, just before transformation.
“Good, everyone is here,” he began, still rooted to the spot, his eyes surveying the class. “As Pillars of Arckwar, we bear certain obligations to its associates, families, and students. Our Warlock Campus is dedicated solely to the mastery of magic and mysticism. Unlike our neighbors, who are trained to be soldiers, we are not groomed for knighthood or combat arts—a tradition upheld by Nerathys Arckwar for the past 160 years. Instead, we are trained here to serve as advisors, scholars, aides, healers, warders, and clandestine agents to the reigning Kings and Queens of Primera Forza and its noble leaders, dispatched across the world by the first decree of Bahthalla.
“Here in Arckwar, we are instilled with the virtues of defense, preservation, counsel, and protection. Our bond and close connections with Bahthalla’s creations are essential to the well-being of the other three clans. We function discreetly, as Pillars, ensuring the equilibrium of our world. Yet, it is important to remember that not all Warlocks embrace this solemn duty bestowed upon us by Bahthalla.” He paused, his piercing gaze sweeping over us, ensuring the gravity of his words were fully comprehended. "Earlier this morning, three Class Four Infernals—creatures of Ourl, thought to have gone extinct—breached our Warlock Campus and stole a valuable item from Arckwar’s inventory.”
A chill ran down my spine. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and a cold sensation crept over my nape and shoulders. Ourl the Betrayer.
In the ancient legends, Infernals were painted as the most grotesque and malevolent beings ever conjured by Ourl the Betrayer through a twisted mix of dark sorcery and alchemical arts. Their nightmarish appearances were so abhorrent and their forms so fearsome that they wrapped themselves in shadowy cloaks, obscuring their ghastly faces and bodies from view. Because, you know, if you’re going to be terrifying, you might as well do it with style.
Principal Caster cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the room, “This item, if it falls into the wrong hands, could be wielded against all four clans and the very fabric of Bahthalla’s creations,” he warned, his voice grave. “We’ve escalated this matter to the World Chamber. In light of these circumstances, my fellow Pillars and I had hoped to delay the exams. But,” he stopped abruptly as he noticed the flicker of hope lighting up our faces like the first sunrise in the Underworld, “the Board of Astranea rejected our proposal. Instead, they’ve chosen a different course of action . . .
“The Final Exams will be ladened into the last two days of the upcoming week.
“Effective immediately, Arckwar Academy is under lockdown until after the day of the exams.
“Furthermore, in three weeks, Warlocks from Year 7 to Year 12 will be subjected to basic combat training at Arckwar Terrain.” He delivered these pronouncements with all the warmth of a glacier, as if debating wasn’t even on the table. Combat training? As in, actual physical training?
A chorus of groans erupted into a cacophony of tiny little protests and exclamations of disbelief, while I was left slack-jawed, trying to process what I’d just heard. Professor Darius, stationed behind Principal Caster, stood with his arms folded, his nod both approving and tinged with resignation. He cast a wary glance skyward as if bracing himself for the grueling weeks ahead. It was clear he had mixed emotions—he supported the decision but seemed to dread the thought of enduring our company over the coming weeks. I mean, I know I would.
“Hold up—NOoOoo—That’s the week of Dane Daring’s concert,” I blurted, louder than I intended, causing everyone’s heads to whip around in my direction. I caught sight of Claude, who quickly ducked his head and stifled a laugh behind his hand, clearly trying to avoid drawing any more attention. The room was filled with disapproving and incredulous stares aimed directly at me.
Ah. C’mon, as if I’m the only person worried about that concert. Hypocrites.
Principal Caster’s voice cut through the tension, “It’s wonderful to see where your priorities lie, Miss Volguardsen,” he remarked, his voice dripping with monotone disapproval. He fixed me with a glare that could have melted steel, and my heart did a very uncomfortable drop. As my classmates snickered and shifted their focus back to the Principal, he continued, “This decision has been sanctioned by the Board of Astranea Union. Aquila Hawks have already been dispatched to your Blood Covens, and we expect a response by the end of the weekend. Your Dorm Parent will keep you informed, so make sure to check in with them.”
The room fell into a heavy silence as everyone awaited further announcements from Principal Caster. "That is all," he declared, his cloak suddenly spiraling into the air and morphing into Morkan once again in the blink of an eye. The bird flitted around the room, heads following its every movement as if it were the final gesture of his farewell, before vanishing into a swirling blue dust portal.
Professor Darius shuffled back to his desk, leaning against it with a posture that suggested he might just fall over and start using it as a couch. He crossed his arms with the seriousness of a soap opera star mid-meltdown. “I’m sure this will put quite a bit of pressure on all of you, but you must understand the enormity of the situa—” Claude’s hand shot up, with all the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store. “—tion, Yes, Mister Asteri?”
I turned to Claude, who awkwardly let his arm drop. “Uh, what exactly did the Infernal steal?”
Professor Darius’s face twitched, clearly torn between reluctance and resignation. Finally, he gave in.
“A stone,” he said, as if he’d just revealed the world’s worst-kept secret.
“A stone?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of stone?”
“A stone of significant value to the school. Now, I’ll let you go early. Classes are canceled for the afternoon,” he declared, before making a hasty exit. The entire class erupted in cheers as if Principal Caster hadn’t just delivered a soul-crushing report a mere three minutes ago.
Amidst the joyful commotion, Claude spun around to face me. "So, what kind of stone do you think it is?" he inquired, his voice cutting through the clamor and his curiosity evident. I shrugged nonchalantly, a half-hearted gesture that barely conveyed my uncertainty. "Your guess is as good as mine," I replied, though in reality, I had a pretty solid guess.