Lockdown in Arckwar Academy had already begun. For the past two hours, we’ve been confined inside Principal Caster’s Tower, a vast, circular chamber that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. The room’s ceiling, not a conventional roof but an illusionary cloud, appeared to touch the night sky. Of course, this celestial canopy was merely a product of glamor magic.

We were huddled together in the center of the office, gathered around a plush, spiral sofa. Instead of facing one another, we were nestled into one side of the seating. Niccolo's lap doubled as a makeshift pillow for Pandora and Oxford, both of whom had succumbed to sleep, while Niccolo himself had decided my shoulder was the perfect napping spot. Their familiars clustered around thim protectively. Maxima, leaning on my other side, seemed lost in thought, while Kaede kept a watchful eye from the large arched windows not far from us. His familiar, a sleek brown feline shorthair named Dane, stood guard by the double metal doors, exuding the calm vigilance of a knight.

The office was bathed in moonlight, which streamed through the large arched windows like liquid silver, casting long shadows into the corners where mysteries undoubtedly lurked. I had only seen this place during the day, when it was as bright as an academic conference room—a stark contrast to the bright midday hours I was accustomed to when summoned for counsel.

The recent encounter with Pethalia Pallena, the woman in blue, lingered in my mind. Known in Grammy Lorace’s Pilgrim Tales as a timid, delicate figure with a reputation for gentle healing, Pethalia had once mended the wounds of countless victims of the Shadow Fang Gang from a century and a half ago. Why would someone revered for their kindness and healing now seek to cause me harm?

I gave Maxima a gentle nudge, and she lifted her head from my shoulder. "I need to talk to Kaede," I whispered, careful not to wake my sister and cousin as Niccolo shifted beside them, ensuring their slumber remained undisturbed.

I approached Kaede, who stood by the window, his brows knit in deep thought. “Kae, I need to tell you something,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t turn. His arms remained folded, his gaze fixed on the darkened streets outside. “What did you see at the steakhouse?” he asked, his tone as sharp as the tension in the air.

I hesitated, weighing my options. If I told him the truth, I’d be exposed. There would be no going back. Unless . . . I erased it from his memory.

Before I could decide, Maxima appeared beside me, her voice filled with concern. “Cici, what happened earlier at Fiascos?” she asked, her eyes searching mine. Now I was caught between them.

I swallowed hard. “Pethalia Pallena. It was her. I saw her across the street,” I confessed in a low, measured tone.

The silence stretched as they processed my words. Kaede slowly turned to face me, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Who?” Maxima asked, clearly baffled.

“The Blue Woman?” Kaede echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. Maxima snapped her head toward him, eyes wide.

“You know who she is?”

Kaede shook his head slightly, his expression troubled. “Inca once mentioned her in passing, but didn’t dwell on it,” he replied, his voice hushed. “But she’s one of the characters from Grammy Lor’s Pilgrim Tales.”

“Wait,” Maxima interjected, her brow furrowing in confusion. “In Grammy Lor’s stories, I distinctly remember we stopped at ‘M,’ not at ‘P.’ So how would you know her, Cici?” she asked, turning to me, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Both their heads swiveled toward me, their gazes intense, like two colossal statues guarding the entrance of a cave, looming over me in silent judgment.

“Cici, what have you done?” Kaede’s voice cut through the silence, darker and colder than I’d ever heard it before.

I bit my lip, feeling that queasy sensation that comes right before you start contemplating life’s bad decisions. I glanced back at the sofa, where my siblings were still sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the mess about to unfold. I turned to my cousins, took a deep breath, and summoned Apo. In the blink of an eye, the little creature appeared on top of my head. Apo scurried down to my shoulder, his eyes following my gaze to the sleeping forms on the sofa. I whispered, “Tiraka dinhi. Agaanan meos kazun. Aadikame Vaultrove,” in Old Majestean Tongue, which roughly translates to, 'Stay and keep my siblings safe, we’re off to Vaultrove.'

Without hesitation, Apo leapt down and scampered over to the sofa, settling protectively next to Pandora. Satisfied, I grabbed my cousins by their shoulders and chanted, “Domus Reign," and the room erupted into a whirlwind of motion. The office dissolved into a spinning vortex, the ground beneath us vibrating with an intense force. Seven seconds later, the chaos subsided, revealing our new surroundings.

We now stood in a vast, 213-meter circular chamber, crowned by a stained leaded glass dome that bathed the room in a kaleidoscope of dull and dimmed colors. Seven massive, crimson-red rocky pillars encircled the space, their presence looming over the distressed green slate marble walls and floors. At the center of the room sat a pristine white, round bed. Between the pillars, seven uniquely designed doors beckoned, while stacks of books were haphazardly piled in the corners. We were in a Magus Dome, or Domus—a space only accessible to Warlocks of Grade E and above. The rules of a Domus are complex, but suffice it to say, it’s not something to take lightly.

“Sheesh, Cici. Can’t you get more light in here?” Maxima quipped, flopping onto the bed as if it were any other day.

“Legacie, why did you bring us here?” Kaede asked, eyeing the room like it might suddenly grow fangs.

I climbed onto the bed and patted the spot next to me. Kaede, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, reluctantly sat down. Before I could respond, Thyra and Thygos—my mischievous albino sugar gliders—swooped down, tackling my face with unbridled glee. “Cici!” they squealed in unison. I allowed them their moment, letting them nuzzle, lick, and even groom my hair, their excitement almost contagious. When they were finally satisfied, they settled down. Thyra, with her beady emerald eyes, approached Kaede and sniffed his hand curiously, while Thygos flew over to Maxima and, without missing a beat, said, “Wow, you’ve grown uglier than the last time I saw you!”

Maxima swatted at him, but Thygos was too quick, darting out of the way and laughing like a maniac as he flew up settling on his cloud bed.

“Idiot,” Thyra scolded, shooting a glare at her brother. “Don’t listen to him, Maxi. You’re more beautiful than ever!” She winked playfully before retreating to her own cloud nest, both gliders now watching us intently from above.

“Get on with it, Cici, and no more distractions,” Kaede demanded, glancing up at the twins, who instantly shrank back into their nests. They've always been afraid of him.

I am now.

“A year before Grammy Lor passed away, she warned me that a precious stone would one day be stolen from Arckwar Academy, specifically from a place called Amathaisah,” I began, the memory still vivid. “She never bothered to explain who or what Amathaisah was, and when I pressed her for details, she became irritable, and I wasn’t about to risk angering an almost century-old sorceress.”

“So, you did know about Amathaisah,” Kaede stated, his voice laced with accusation. “You lied earlier.”

“Who? Know who?” Maxima’s eyes darted between us, suspicion growing by the second.

“We’ll fill you in later—” “No, tell me now.”

“Maxi, this isn’t the time—” “Was this about what happened this afternoon? In the library? Is that why you two started acting so strange?” she interrupted, rising from her seat. “I knew something was up.” Her voice grew sharper, her eyes narrowing as they bore into us.

Kaede sighed, recognizing there was no escaping this. He began recounting the events of the afternoon, starting from when we left the library until the moment we returned. By the time he finished describing our encounter with Amathaisah, Maxima looked utterly astounded.

She slapped both my arm and Kaede’s, her voice brimming with outrage. “You two didn’t even think to bring me along?!”

“Wha—you weren’t—” I started, but she cut me off.

“You could’ve called me! What’s the point of having phones if you don’t use them?!”

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Kaede, ever the logical one, calmly replied, “I did invite you to the library to study, but you declined.” He raised an eyebrow, challenging her with a glare that Maxima returned with twice the intensity. At least she was invited, I was strong-armed into the library.

“So, you’re saying it’s my fault?!”

“Yes,” he responded flatly.

She scoffed and turned to me. I ducked behind Kaede like he was my personal human shield. I threw my hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright! We should’ve called you, but we were on a tight schedule.” I could practically see steam coming out of her ears. “So, please, let’s cut to the chase. I’ve got Valkyrjie keeping an eye on Principal Caster’s tower. They’ve just wrapped up Abynth, Sorrke and Karsynth Street, and they’ll be back any minute now.” I informed them, thanks to the Gaze, a sight-bonding trick between denizen and master.

Maxima held her fierce gaze for a moment longer before exhaling sharply. “Fine.”

I glanced at Kaede, “But listen up, once I spill this, it’s a secret. No one else can know.”

“Why? Is there a magical binding involved?” Kaede asked, leaning in closer.

I nodded quickly. “Yes, sort of?”

Maxima’s brow furrowed. “Sort of?”

“It’s complicated . . . it wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did—it was all an accident,” I admitted, my voice tinged with regret. “Look, when Grammy mentioned Amathaisah, I asked her about the stone, but she never answered directly. She claimed she didn’t know. A year later, I had a dream—the one that revealed the location of Amathaisah’s chamber,” I added, the memory still fresh.

“Did Grammy tell you the exact year and date this would happen?” Kaede asked, his curiosity piqued. “But that doesn’t make sense. Amathaisah said the stone was already stolen, long before the Infernals breached Warlock Castle.”

“Or when Grammy Lor told you about it.” Maxima added.

“I know. But no—she didn’t give specifics. It wasn’t until this morning, when I saw that Infernal, that the dream came rushing back. I had a hunch it might hold the key, so I followed it. And it did.”

“Did what?” Maxima pressed, her patience thinning.

“Answered our questions. Come on, Maxi, try to keep up.”

“What answers?” she demanded.

I paused, the weight of the revelation bearing down on me. This part was where things got complicated, where the truth twisted and tangled like a knot. I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady myself, anxiety gnawing at the edges of my resolve.

“Cici,” Kaede’s gentle voice broke through my swirling thoughts.

“Okay. There’s another thing. A week before Grammy Lor passed, I saw her wandering through Volguardsen Bloodwoods. I think she was sleepwalking, and I followed her.”

“You? Venturing through Volguardsen Bloodwoods? Alone? Through Volguardsen Bloodwoods?" Maxima repeated, her disbelief palpable. “You, the self-proclaimed scaredy cat?”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Yes, me. But it wasn’t just a Grammy. She was with Akkanna,” I explained, recalling the sight of Grammy’s gray dire wolf denizen by her side.

Maxima’s eyes widened in shock. “Akkanna? But Akkanna died two months before Grammy!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t Akkanna’s spirit?” Kaede asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Maybe. I’m not entirely sure, but I know I saw them both walking through the Bloodwoods,” I affirmed.

“And then?” Maxima prompted, leaning in like I was about to spill the juiciest gossip.

“She stopped at Beastly House, and Akkanna . . . she just walked right through the doors. Grammy caught me spying and told me . . . ” I hesitated, feeling the gravity of her words even now. “She told me she was going to die. Gave me the exact date, time, and place it would happen. And then she said that five days after her death, she’d visit me in a dream to . . . talk.”

Silence fell between us as the weight of my words sank in. Kaede and Maxima exchanged glances, then shrugged.

“That sounds exactly like something Grammy Lor would say. We all knew she was a bit . . . cuckoo,” Maxima muttered, her tone more affectionate than critical.

“As much as I respect and love Grammy, I can't deny how cryptic she could be.” Kaede added with a wry smile. “Although it doesn’t surprise me. She had a gift of prophecy and dreams. So, did it happen? Did she visit you?”

I nodded. “She did. We talked.”

“About the rest of her Pilgrim Tales?” Maxima scoffed.

“No. . . that’s a different story. But what she told me in that dream is far more important,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Are you ready for this?” I asked, meeting their eyes. They both nodded, leaning in closer.

“She said that the stolen Aetherial Stone would bring a powerful Sorcerer to Arckwar to retrieve an ancient Book of Spells—the First Veil of Garragon Bandkarsen, the maker of the Old Majestean Grimoire,” I revealed. The weight of my words settled heavily on their faces, and I knew they understood the gravity of what was coming.

Garragon Bandkarsen was the third eldest of the Twelve War Veils, the first Angel-Mortal Bloods of Bahthalla, whose legacy shaped the very foundation of magic as it existed under Majestean rule. While Ethelion Vesselova's bloodline was busy playing political chess and weaving through the monarchy of Majesta, it was Garragon Bandkarsen’s lineage that established the structure of magic, which now governs all Warlocks under Majestean authority. This lineage meticulously crafted the discipline of magic, evolving it over the centuries into a system grounded in the careful study and fine-tuning of poetry, phonetics, rhythm, and diverse languages. Elements that make up the spells we Warlocks casually sling around like confetti. Their dedication led to the creation of a library of spells that, though artistically complex, remains simple and manageable in construction. These volumes, blessed by Bahthalla, are the only recognized references of their kind in the world, second only to the Bahall—the sacred Book of Bahthalla.

The Old Majestean Grimoire (The First Veil) stands as a testament to this legacy—a more intricate and powerful Book of Spells, unrivaled in its precision and depth. This book is like the magical equivalent of a Michelin-starred restaurant menu—complex, potent, and brimming with spells so precise and detailed that even seasoned Warlocks need to sit down for a minute before cracking it open. It contains spells meticulously penned and encoded by the War Veils who preceded Garragon, each contributing to its potency. This grimoire found its way to Arckwar due to the strategic foresight of the Majestean Empire. In the height of Azra Black’s reign of terror, Astranea—a secluded and secret Chamber Dome Island—was deemed the safest refuge as it wasn’t exactly on everyone’s radar back then. The grimoire, bearing immeasurable value, was entrusted to one of the Queen’s Supreme Sorcerer, who secretly transported it to Astranea, where it was buried in what we now know as Arckwar City.

Of course, whether this tale is fact or fiction remains to be seen—it's not exactly featured in any history books. But my Grandfather was adamant it was true. He swore that back in his youth, he had been told by none other than the Queen herself about this Supreme Sorcerer. In our family, Grandpa An's words were to be trusted—no questions, no arguments. So, naturally, I’m convinced it’s real. We all are. And since Astranea has an endless appetite for its own quirks and oddities, it happily clings to this truth. Anything to keep the continent’s reputation as the most remarkable and divergent in all the Chamber Domes of Majesta.

“We should definitely take this to Principal Caster,” Maxima declared, rising from her seat with all the determination of someone about to launch a very important mission. “Cici, why on earth would you have kept this information to yourself all these years?!”

I cast a quick glance at Kaede, half-expecting him to lose his cool, but instead, he remained unnervingly calm, his eyes fixed on the floor, brows knit in deep contemplation. “Kae?” I ventured, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

He finally looked up, his gaze darkening. “Grammy Lorace never finished telling the tale of her Pilgrim Days. So how did you know it was Pethalia Pallena?” His voice was steady, but the underlying tension was palpable.

“Not now. Please,” I silently pleaded with him, hoping he’d drop the subject, at least for the moment.

“Cici, the Blue Woman just blew up the steakhouse with Dark Magic! If she’s after us—or worse, you—we have every right to know what’s going on," he insisted.

I chewed my lip, trying to come up with a decent excuse. “Not yet, Kaede.”

“Then tell us this much—is she connected to your dreams somehow?” Maxima cut in, her eyes searching mine for answers.

“I have no idea,” I admitted, frustration creeping into my voice. “But I do know she aimed at me. There was a blue petal in the dorm earlier, before we went out. It turned black. So either she’s cursed to attack me—”

“Cursed to attack? That doesn’t even make sense—” Maxima began to protest.

“It is possible, Maxi,” Kaede interrupted, his voice laced with an unsettling certainty. "According to Inca, Pethalia Pallena wasn’t exactly infamous for her malevolent tendencies. So, it seems quite plausible that she might be nothing more than a pawn in someone else's dark scheme."

“Is she even supposed to be alive? How old was she?” Maxima asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“She’s supposed to be dead—forty years . . .” I trailed off, the weight of that truth sinking in.

“She isn't, if she's still here. There are only two destinations for a soul after death, and Earth isn’t one of them,” Kaede clarified. “She’s under a curse. We have to find out why.”

“So, let me get this straight. We’ve got three things going on. First, Pethalia Pallena—an ancient warlock we now believe is cursed, and we need to figure out why. Second, the Aetherial Stone that was supposedly stolen by the Infernals but actually wasn’t, because an Abrahall Blood did it, and who? We need to find out. Third, a Sorcerer is coming to Arckwar City for Bandkarsen’s ancient book, and now we need to find out where that is?” Maxima summarized, her voice steady despite the chaos of our situation.

I almost applauded Maxima’s succinct breakdown of our predicament.

We exchanged troubled glances, each of us realizing just how deep we were in this mess. “Yes,” we responded in unison, a chorus of reluctant acceptance.

“And the ‘WHAT’,” I pressed.

"What?" Maxima asked, momentarily confused.

“What all of this means and how it all connects.”

Just then, Valkyrjie, a brown and white Haribon, swooped down with a melodious screech, her wings cutting through the air like a whisper of wind. She circled us once, then soared upward, disappearing into the ceiling in a silent puff of smoke.

Before anyone could utter another word, I grabbed my cousins by their arms and whisked us all back the way we came. Within seconds, we were standing once more in Principal Caster’s office. The pounding of footsteps and muffled voices echoed through the corridors. Dane, Kaede’s familiar, leaped onto the backrest of the couch, adopting a protective stance, with Apo close beside him.

I hurried to my siblings, who were still asleep, with Maxima trailing close behind. It wasn’t long before the Pillars of Arckwar, along with elite-ranking students from the collegiate years, entered the room. Among them was Raiver. I quickly turned away before I could be tempted to meet his gaze. Aunt Shirley burst into the room and practically sprinted to us, waking my siblings and cousin in the process. She enveloped each of us in a hug, fussing over whether we were all in one piece. Well, physically, yes, but emotionally? Give me a few minutes, and we’ll see. I’d love to pretend I can handle this on my own, but I was painfully aware that even the combined power of Kaede, Maxima, and yours truly wouldn’t be enough to handle the weight of what was happening. My brain’s already firing off a dozen theories, but the one that keeps screaming at me says to head back to Hunter’s Forest, summon Keilia, and get some answers about this morning—and that weird scent wafting through her woods. If the Infernals passed through Evergrass to Hunters, they must’ve left a trail I can trace.

The only problem now was figuring out how to get myself out of here.