1:14 AM | PRINCIPAL’S TOWER

The lights in Principal Caster’s office remained unchanged, relying solely on the moonlight streaming through the windows. Gathered inside were the rest of Arckwar Academy’s Pillars, along with Jairen and two members of his fellowship coven. Raiver was present with three others from his group, and Nash, a childhood friend and his fellow tribe member, stood nearby. Among them was also someone from the Gifteds and her fellow guild—a figure I knew nothing about. I could sense others stationed outside, guarding the doors and the entirety of Warlock Castle. Even the dorms were not spared from heightened security.

Principal Caster stood behind his desk, his expression grave. Echoform blue falcons perched on his shelves and other surfaces, their watchful eyes mirroring the tension in the room. The rest of the group sat on stools scattered around, all facing his table. We remained still on the sofa, where we had been earlier, while Kaede stood near the windows with Jairen.

“In all my years as Head of Warlock Castle and President of the Academy Board, I have never encountered anything of this nature,” Principal Caster began, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation. “I find myself uncharacteristically at a loss for words.” He paused, letting out a measured breath. “The attack was specifically aimed at the Volguardsens, who were seated by the window that first shattered. The Scepter of Emet has confirmed this, offering us a fleeting glimpse of the events. Regrettably, only a few fragments were captured, as the entire scene at Fiascos has now been contaminated with Dark Magic.” He raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping across the room. “Elite Warlocks are currently on-site, purging the establishment.”

“How long will the cleansing take?” came a high-pitched, nasally voice from Principal Clove of the Gifted Campus.

“Twelve hours,” Principal Caster responded.

Principal Reixia, the Pillar of Werewolf Fortress, rose from her seat. Draped in a buff, rust-colored sable fur cape over a darker leather ensemble, she cut an imposing figure. Her voice, raspy yet bold, sharp, and resonant, filled the room. “Was there anything else revealed by Emet’s Scepter?”

Coming from a lineage of Sacaria’s First Wolves and a family of generals, she was the kind of woman who could probably intimidate a mountain into moving. She was nearly as tall as Principal Caster, and honestly, if she asked me to go fetch her a drink, I wouldn’t dare say no.

Principal Caster’s gaze shifted toward me. “There is, indeed, a matter involving one of our students,” he said. My throat tightened as all eyes, including Raiver’s, zeroed in on us.

Maxima’s grip tightened around my hand.

Principal Caster moved around his desk, addressing Jairen. “Escort your younger cousins back to their dorm,” he instructed. Jairen immediately complied.

Pandora, beside me, tightened her hold on my arm as Jairen approached. I gave her a nod that was supposed to be reassuring, but probably looked more like a spastic twitch. Jairen led my siblings and cousin, Oxford, out of the room. I stole a quick glance at Apo, who, understanding the unspoken command, slipped away before the door fully closed.

Kaede approached Maxima and me while Aunt Shirley took a seat beside her.

“Legacie,” Principal Caster’s skeletal pale hand emerged from the folds of his leather cape, extended in a gesture of invitation. “Show me, child,” he commanded, his gaze fixed and penetrating. The fatigue etched beneath his eyes seemed even more pronounced up close.

Aunt Shirley gently prodded me, prompting me to rise. I made my way down the aisle, feeling as though I parted a sea of gazes, until I stood just a handshake away from Principal Caster. “Here? With everyone watching?” I murmured.

His steely lilac eyes reflected the moonlight, and his heavy brows seemed burdened by the weight of the world. “How would you prefer it?” he asked, catching me off guard.

“If it’s possible, just you?” I suggested with an awkward smile.

He exhaled through his nostrils like he was deflating a balloon. “Not possible,” he replied, leaving me feeling like I’d just been hit with a giant “pointless” stick.

I sighed in resignation, “Then why did you ask?” I mumbled, extending my hand reluctantly. “Where do I go back to?”

“From the moment you awoke,” he answered. You’ve got to be kidding me. “Alaa . . . lencia.”

Alaalencia is a spell wielded exclusively by a select few Supreme Sorcerers, serving as an alternative to the Scepter of Emet, which allows a Warlock to peer back to a specific moment in time to uncover events that transpired at a particular location. However, its efficacy is limited to the very day of the occurrence—in this case, last night. With the arrival of early Saturday morning, the day has elapsed, rendering the Scepter powerless to retrieve the past. Thus, a more advanced spell, demanding considerable expertise and focus, must be employed. With a touch of the Sorcerer’s hand and the memory of the host, Principal Caster will soon be privy to everything that transpired today.

I could attempt to use psychesentience to modify my memories, but engaging with a Supreme Sorcerer poses a significant challenge for my brain and might explode from the effort. Hence, my only option is to guide him through the events myself.

“No tricks, Legacie,” he warned, his eyes beginning to glow—a sure sign that the spell was in effect. Bursts of light shot from the tip of his fingers, and I grabbed onto them, bracing myself for the inevitable consequences.

His hand felt as cold as a freezer—something I’ve experienced about a hundred times when I’ve been sent to his office. It’s his way of getting the truth out of me, and if you haven’t figured it out yet, I have a bit of a reputation for fibbing and keeping secrets. I could hear a faint buzzing as his eyes took on a lighter shade of lilac, obscuring his iris and pupils. Despite my attempts to shift and tweak my memories, he’d catch me every time, and the pain that followed was nothing short of a headache that could launch rockets. So, I gave up trying to alter my memories. Clearly, I need more practice.

In mere minutes, Principal Caster was finished reviewing the memories. The most daunting part was yet to come. Alaalarga, a complementary spell to Alaalencia, would project these memories for everyone to see. This dual spell ensures that the caster does not absorb or merge the memories into their own, preventing collateral damage to both parties' recollections. As noted, it is a highly potent magic.

Releasing my hand, an icy vapor escaped his lips, and the room became filled with dim, star-like lights reminiscent of the painting on my dorm ceiling. Luckily, the projection was from my perspective, sparing everyone from the horror of my early-morning appearance and my less-than-fashionable sleepwear. My internal thoughts and dialogues were muted from the memory, leaving only the sensations I experienced. Principal Caster respected my privacy in this regard, partly because my mind often wanders to inappropriate and irrelevant musings. He once had to disable the audio after hearing me use an offensive term.

“What is that scent?” asked Principal Tiberius of Vampire Castle, his deep, velvety accent reverberating through the silence.

“It’s the scent of woods, Hunter’s Forest specifically, but it’s overwhelming,” Principal Reixia remarked, wrinkling her nose and fanning the air with her hand.

I glanced around, seeing my escape from the dorm replayed before me, but with a twist. I had sneaked out through the building door, found myself at the Hunter’s Forest gate, and was let through by Keilia. I walked the familiar forest path and arrived at Hunter’s Circle. I turned to Principal Caster, who shot me a stern look. Why was my memory altered?

As I revisited the scene, I saw Raiver and Nyle.

An unsettling anxiety gripped me.

The memory concluded abruptly, and I found myself retracing my steps back to the dorms. The subsequent events involving Jairen and the Infernal were, indeed, as accurate as they had been described. Fast-forward through classes, the library visit and then the dungeon, which had mysteriously vanished from our route as we left the library at sundown. The sequence of events, from the blue petal at the dorm (and Agnes and her friends) to the appearance of the Blue Woman, unfolded precisely as I had remembered. The recollection fragmented when the glass panels at Fiascos shattered, and for a second a sharp sting pulsed through my left hand where the petal had brushed against it. The projection of Alaalarga was smeared by dark blotches of ink until the memory dissolved. My hand burned briefly before the sensation subsided, leaving no trace of burns.

The room was once again illuminated by moonlight.

“Raiver, you encountered this child at Hunter’s Forest during the Infernal’s breach?” Principal Reixia inquired sharply. “Why did you not mention this earlier?”

Raiver lowered his gaze. “We believed she was merely sleepwalking, Miss,” he replied.

“It did not appear so to me,” Principal Reixia countered.

“We were uncertain how to proceed. . . ” Raiver continued, his voice trailing off.

“Cicic, what were you doing out there at that hour?” Aunt Shirley asked in a whisper.

“How is this pertinent to us, Reixia?” Principal Tiberius interjected. “Your concern should be directed towards the woman in blue that Legacie witnessed through the windows—a figure not revealed by the Scepter of Emet.”

“Did none of the other Volguardsen present witness this?” Principal Clove asked, addressing Kaede, Maxima, and Aunt Shirley.

“Apparently not,” Principal Reixia responded. “So why did only you see this, dear?” She turned her gaze to me, her voluminous gray locks accentuating her imposing cape. Her black-rimmed spectacles framed her sharp, dark eyes, which scrutinized me with a piercing intensity. Her thin lips tightened into a disapproving line, and her high arched brows furrowed. She tilted her head back, her sharp chin cutting through the shadows, and her grin revealed prominent high cheekbones. “Which Volguardsen are you, exactly?” she questioned, her tone dripping with interrogation. “Mathilde’s?”

What could that possibly have to do with this?

Principal Tiberius interjected with a sense of urgency. “We seem to be losing focus on what truly matters. We need to comb the streets for any trace of those petals immediately.”

“I agree,” Principal Clove chimed in, rising from his chair with all the grace of someone about to undertake a grand quest. “I’ll have my Patrollers geared up and dispatched to Abynth, Sorkke, and Karsynth Streets again.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Before we dive headfirst into the mystery of the woman in blue, let’s take a moment to dissect this little witch who seems to be the center of it all,” Reixia said, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. She turned to me, “Clearly, the woman in blue has an agenda and requires something from you. And your reputation as a notorious troublemaker in Warlock Castle—”

“That’s crossing the line, Rhysandra,” Principal Tiberius interrupted. His voice escalating.

“You defend her, Tiberius, due to your kin’s close ties with the Volguardsens. This blind loyalty prevents you from seeing why she and her family might have been targeted tonight,” Reixia continued.

“It’s a matter of urgency. We must ascertain how much time we have before the woman in blue returns,” Principal Tiberius argued.

“Reixia has a valid point, Tiberius,” Principal Clove interjected. “The young witch may have inadvertently provoked—”

“She hasn't,” Kaede interjected, drawing everyone's attention. “The woman in blue is known as Pethalia Pallena. She specialized in Azulaeth, a healing agent for victims of the Shadow Fang Gang, and has been deceased for over forty years. It’s likely that a Warlock practicing Dark magic has either conjured her image or imitated her form to deceive us. Therefore, to address your concerns about my cousin offending an ancient Warlock, the answer is no. Another, more obscure force is at work here, hiding in the shadows. I also refuse to believe that my cousin has done anything to deserve such a malevolent act.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of my lips, but Principal Reixia’s laser-focused stare made it difficult to express any satisfaction.

“To preempt any further inquiries,” Kaede continued, “no, Pethalia Pallena is not listed in the History Books. Our great-grandmother, Lorace Abrahall, an esteemed Warlock Pilgrim, encountered her during her travels across the western and northern continent. She was vivid in her descriptions of such characters, and the Blue Woman seen by my cousin was consistent with her accounts.”

“Did Lorace Abrahall share this information with you personally?” Reixia asked.

“Yes,” Kaede confirmed. “She did so almost every weekend, recounting tales of the characters from her pilgrimage.”

Aunt Shirley, standing beside Kaede, looked slightly bewildered. She was the only Aunt tasked with overseeing activities at Volguardsen Manor, and she was aware of our status with Grammy Lor. After Grammy Lor’s death, the older siblings were forbidden from passing down her tales. To her, these memories and creatures were sacred. With Grammy Lor’s death, I knew the tradition would end with her.

The room fell into a thick, heavy silence. Kaede and I exchanged a meaningful glance, and I subtly raised my eyebrow in silent gratitude.

“Do you have any corroboration for this claim?” Reixia pressed.

Without hesitation, Aunt Shirley raised her hand. “I do. During their time with Lorace, I oversaw all seventeen of the children. I was always present. I can vouch for this,” she said, casting a meaningful look my way before turning back to Principal Caster.

“And how can we be sure Lorace Abrahall spoke the truth of her Pilgrimage?” Reixia challenged. What is this a term paper defense?

“Are you suggesting my great-grandmother was crazy?” I blurted out, then gulped. “I mean, she was a bit off her rocker, but she wouldn’t make things up. She used Alaalencia Reign to tell her stories,” I added quickly.

“Alaalenciarga Reign is a magic that projects one’s memories into a space much like what you’ve seen today,” Principal Caster explained. “The spell is accurate and immutable. It’s a high form of Psychesentient Magic.”

“Very well. Since this comes from you, Valdome, we have no choice but to trust your judgment,” Reixia conceded with a begrudging tone.

Principal Caster’s eyes gleamed with a grim satisfaction. “Your only option is to heed my counsel, Rhysandra,” he replied darkly. His gaze swept over the higher years and their Pillars. “Dispatch your patrollers within the Academy to search for signs of the blue petals, assuming they haven’t turned to chalk. Captains,” he addressed Jairen, Raiver, Nash, and the Gifted—whose name still eluded me—“coordinate with your fellow Captains. Send scouts and hunters back to Abynth, Sorkke and Karsynth Street, as well as Abbos and Braya Street. Alert Devendria, Caire, and Saga City with this new information, but keep it discreet.”

The remaining Captains and their attendants swiftly exited the room, leaving us in the company of the Pillars of Arckwar Academy.

“I shall notify Shadowscar and the common families to mobilize their aid,” Reixia proposed, a suggestion that Principal Caster accepted with a nod.

Turning to Principal Clove, he commanded, “Hollis, represent us at the Union. I issued a Code Black an hour prior. The meeting is scheduled for nine hours hence. Prepare accordingly.” Principal Clove bowed in acquiescence.

“Tiberius will oversee the Academy in my absence and reinforce the heightened lockdown across all four campuses. You are authorized to deploy your Fangs for enhanced security.”

With their tasks assigned, the officials departed the office.

“Shirley, I require a private audience with these three,” Principal Caster declared, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over us. “It is crucial that only they hear this.”

Aunt Shirley inclined her head in acknowledgment of Principal Caster’s directive, then offered a reassuring pat on our backs. I sank back onto the sofa, wedged between Kaede and Maxima. With one final, lingering glance, Aunt Shirley exited the room. Almost immediately, the room was hit with a powerful vibration, like being catapulted by an invisible slingshot, followed by a blast of furious air. As the room settled into an eerie silence once more, Principal Caster’s leather cloak billowed behind him as he retook his seat, his posture sagging slightly as he exhaled a weary sigh.

“Yes, I admit it was quite underhanded of me to transform Legacie’s memories into simple projections, but it was a necessary action,” he confessed, tilting his head back in resignation. “You’ve encountered Amathaisah, haven’t you?”

"You know her?" Maxima asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he confirmed with authority. “It was I who entombed her within the Whirlpool of Aethere, granting her eternal rest among the waves as an act of solitary mercy. And now you have awakened her. I assume her memories are fragmented?”

“Yeah, and she’s kind of got the personality of a toddler now,” I mumbled.

“Why would you curse her?” Kaede asked, his tone cautious.

“She let the Aetherial Stone slip through her fingers.”

“Wait, what?” our collective shock was palpable.

"The Aetherial Stone, as documented throughout history, serves as a powerful conduit for Warlocks. Amathaisah, however, chose to fall in love when her duty was to protect this Stone. In a moment of weakness, she entrusted it to a Warlock and vanished. Her curse was to suffer for her betrayal," the Principal elaborated with a measured tone.

“Wait, you were aware of this? Then why did you suggest that the Infernals were responsible for its theft?” I asked, bewildered.

“I never claimed such a thing,” he retorted.

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

A subtle grin spread across his face, his brows relaxing slightly. “I never said the Aetherial Stone was stolen. I merely indicated that a valuable item was stolen from our inventory. How you arrived at that conclusion is beyond me.”

“Professor Darius,” I said.

Principal Caster sighed, “Why would you take his word for it when I never specified what was stolen?”

“I. . . don’t know,” I admitted.

“The Stone was embedded in Amathaisah’s forehead, granting her the ability to alter her physical form. When the Warlock vanished with the Stone, her physical condition became unstable. She began to grow and shrink uncontrollably, driven by the emotional turmoil of her lover’s betrayal. I had to confine her before she could transform into a Titan Beast and wreak havoc on Warlock Castle.

But from your recent visit to the dungeons, it appears she had already begun to grow.”

“Will that be a problem?” Maxima asked.

“No, not any longer. Her memories have nearly faded entirely, and I have placed additional magic restrictions within the cavern to prevent any such transformations. She will remain confined there for as long as Warlock Castle endures,” he reassured.

“So, the Abrahall woman Amathaisah spoke of was. . . her lover?” Kaede ventured cautiously.

“Yes, that is correct. Regarding the identity of her lover, she was never able to recall her full name,” Principal Caster confirmed.

“And you’re not seeking it?” Kaede asked.

He gave a measured shrug. "It was an Abrahall who committed the theft, and as you know, they are notorious for their elusive nature and tendency to disappear without a trace. If the Stone remains in existence, it is almost certainly no longer within this plane of reality."

“So, we’re just letting it go?” Maxima asked.

“Yes.”

I glanced at my cousins, uncertain about how to process the information.

“So, what exactly did the Infernals steal?” I pressed.

Principal Caster paused, his gaze darting between us. “The Netherlight—”

“—no way!”

“Legacie, let me finish.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“The Netherlight Blade, brought to Arckwar by Adalhard Volguardsen after the battle at Red Rock, has been housed in Warlock Castle’s Crypt—”

“We have a crypt?”

“Legacie.”

“Sorry.”

“—inside Warlock Castle’s Crypt for 200 years.” No way! The Netherlight Blade was here all along?!

“Why would they retrieve their old master’s weapon when he’s already dead?” Maxima questioned. Dang! I wish Grammy Lor had told me that!

“No, it wasn’t Azra Black’s weapon. It was Valteron Bandkarsen’s. One of Azan Black’s Infernals discovered it at Dome Argus, where they are believed to have perished. The Netherlight had passed through generations of the Black Rat Family until Azra Black wielded it in his acts of terrorism. Adalhard retrieved it, eliminating Azra and his Infernals in the process,” Kaede clarified. The proud smirk on Principal Caster’s face shone brightly, though his teeth remained unseen.

He'd better return to Arckwar as a Professor in the future.

But stil!!! The Netherlight Blade! And the school has a crypt? Woah! Why am I excited about that? That's where dead skeletons live.

Is that why Grammy Lor wanted me to follow the Infernal? Do I get to see the Netherlight Blade?

"We have assembled all required personnel to address the matter at hand. Your focus should now be directed towards your examinations and the training camp scheduled in three weeks," Principal Caster reminded us, his tone shifting. Wait a minute!

So, everything we discussed in Vaultrove was in vain?

I don’t believe it.

“It has been an arduous night, and both fatigue and weariness are apparent in us all. I insist that you retire to your dormitories and seek the rest you so clearly need. Allow the burden of this matter to fall upon the shoulders of those more seasoned. Off you go, now.” He suddenly ordered. Reluctantly, all three of us didn’t move for a second. Seriously?!

“Of course, Sir,” Kaede said, bowing slightly. I nodded, still bewildered by the abrupt end to the discussion. Kaede gently guided Maxima and me out of the office. None of us said a word as we made our way back to the dorm building. Kaede made sure we were inside before heading back to his own.

Blanche and Jolene were huddled on my bed, fast asleep with their denizens. I could sense Apo was still with Pandora and Koark (her denizen), while Valkyrjie was perched on Niccolo’s dorm balcony.

I sighed. No way I’m getting any sleep tonight.

I grabbed a comfortable set of casual cotton clothes and slipped on my boots. This time, I summoned Warbec, my black peregrine falcon. Our balcony, which had been a wreck, was now completely fixed. I slid the door open and snuck out, closing it quietly behind me.

“Warbec,” I called, and he swooped down to perch on the balcony rail. “okuli zsatas mne.” Instructing him to be my vigilant eyes above.

He took off, and I climbed onto the rail. I wove my magic in a silent resonance and jumped, landing softly on the ground. Through Warbec’s Gaze, I could see where the Scouts were stationed. It wasn’t going to be easy to sneak past them. The backwoods were a no-go, way too much security there. So, I took the regular path to Hunter’s Forest, dodging most of the Scouts and masking my scent to avoid detection. I finally reached the inner entrance to Hunter’s Forest, but stopped short when I saw a tall figure standing by the gate.

I sighed. “Crap.”

It was Principal Caster.