Adrian trudged down the corridor behind Ms. Greythorne, the rhythmic click of her heels echoing against the marble floors like a metronome marking his steps toward judgment. The air was heavy, almost oppressive even.

He stole a glance at Ms. Greythorne. Her posture was straight, unyielding. Great. Walking into a trap and she’s leading the charge. Couldn’t have gone worse if I tried.

Adrian kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, his mind raced as he replayed the sparring match with Damien. How do I make them see the truth? I'm not sure there was much that I could have done differently."

Ms. Greythorne’s voice broke the silence as they neared a large oak door at the end of the hallway. “I trust you understand the seriousness of this situation.”

Adrian clenched his jaw. “I wasn’t the one who escalated it.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “This isn’t the time for debate, Mr. Adrian. The principal will determine the outcome.”

He let out a quiet breath. Of course it’s not up for debate. I feel that all of this was rigged from the start.

Soon, the two reached the end of the corridor, where a massive oak door loomed. Above the doorway, etched into the stone arch, was the crest of the academy: a roaring phoenix surrounded by seven stars.

Ms. Greythorne stopped in front of the door, then glanced at Adrian one last time. “You will address the principal with the utmost respect. Is that understood?”

Adrian met her gaze, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

She pushed the door open, the hinges groaning softly as the heavy wood swung inward. The faint scent of incense wafted out, and Adrian’s chest tightened as he stepped inside. This is it. I just hope the principal is willing to hear me out.

Adrian stepped through the heavy oak door, the weight of it pressing against his back as Ms. Greythorne pulled it shut behind him. The air inside was cooler here, and even the dark stone floor was polished to an almost mirror-like sheen. The room stretched wide, its vaulted ceiling lost in the shadows, supported by thick beams carved with runes that pulsed faintly like the heartbeat of the building itself.

The walls were lined with shelves crammed with tomes bound in cracked leather. Between the books were curious magical items: glass orbs swirling with iridescent mist, skulls carved with intricate patterns, and jars filled with shimmering powders or preserved plants. A large iron chandelier suspended from the ceiling cast a dim, flickering light, its candles burning steadily despite the absence of any breeze.

At the center of the room sat Principal Myrael Faesbane. She reclined in a high-backed chair upholstered in deep crimson velvet, one leg elegantly crossed over the other. The brim of her black hat cast a shadow over her face, but not enough to hide her sharp features or the faint curve of her lips as she sipped from a porcelain teacup.

Her gaze flicked toward Adrian. “Ah, Mr. Adrian,”

She set the teacup down on the small ebony table beside her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this… unscheduled visit?”

Ms. Greythorne stepped forward. “Principal Faesbane, there was a... disruptive incident during today’s Practical Magic class. I thought it best to bring Mr. Adrian to you directly.”

Myrael raised an eyebrow. “Disruptive, you say?” She turned her attention fully to Adrian, leaning back in her chair. “Tell me, Mr. Adrian, how disruptive were you?”

Adrian stiffened, the heat of frustration bubbling just under the surface. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his voice calm. “With all due respect, Principal Faesbane, I didn’t start anything. Professor Damien called me out in front of the class and kept pushing me. I just defended myself.”

“Defended yourself? And how, pray tell, did you accomplish this defense?”

“I used my magic. Fire magic.”

“Ah, fire.” Her smile widened as she steepled her fingers, her long nails glinting in the candlelight. “Always such a dramatic element. Controlled, I assume? Or was it… spirited?”

Adrian’s throat tightened as he felt Ms. Greythorne’s sharp gaze on him. “Controlled, I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“Did you now? How very responsible of you.” Myrael's tone held an edge of teasing, as though she found the entire situation amusing.

“Principal Faesbane,” Ms. Greythorne interjected. “The incident caused significant disruption. Professor Damien expressed concern that Mr. Adrian’s actions displayed a lack of restraint and respect for authority.”

Adrian’s fists clenched tighter, his nails digging into his palms. “That’s not true, Professor Damien wanted to humiliate me, and when that didn’t work, he kept pushing me. If I didn’t fight back, I—”

“Adrian.” Ms. Greythorne interrupted. “That’s enough.”

Myrael let out a soft chuckle. “My, my, such passion. It’s refreshing to see a student who doesn’t wilt under pressure.”

Her smile lingered, but her gaze turned sharper as she straightened in her chair. “But passion without control is dangerous, dear boy. Tell me, are you willing to take responsibility for your part in this… disruption?”

Adrian opened his mouth to argue, but something about her tone gave him pause. “I’ll… take responsibility for what I did, but I won’t let Damien frame me for what he did.”

Myrael regarded him for a moment, her dark eyes searching his face as if peeling back layers. Then, with a faint smile, she leaned back again, her hand drifting lazily to the teacup. “How intriguing. Well, Mr. Adrian, it seems we have much to discuss.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Myrael’s gaze lingered on Adrian for a moment longer, the faint smile on her lips deepening as she shifted her attention to Ms. Greythorne. “Thank you, Greythorne, but I think I can handle things from here. Do close the door behind you, won’t you?”

Ms. Greythorne blinked as though she wanted to object. But the look that Myrael shot her was enough to make her reconsider. With a curt nod, she turned sharply on her heel and exited.

Adrian stood in the middle of the room, unsure of whether to feel relieved or even more uneasy. Myrael gestured to a chair opposite her desk, upholstered in the same deep crimson velvet as her own. “Sit, before you wear a hole in the floor with all that tension.”

Reluctantly, Adrian stepped forward and eased into the chair. He rested his hands on his knees, his fingers twitching slightly as he fought to keep his unease in check. Why does she seem so calm? Almost… amused?

Myrael picked up her teacup once more, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink. “Now, Adrian, why don’t you tell me, in your own words, what happened?”

Adrian hesitated, his gaze flicking to the polished surface of the desk before returning to her. He recounted the incident with measured words, careful to highlight how Damien had singled him out and escalated the situation. Throughout his explanation, Myrael listened intently, her chin propped on her hand.

When he finished, she leaned back in her chair. “A fascinating story. And for the record, I believe you.”

Adrian blinked a few times. “You… do?”

“Of course, after all, everything about you is quite… unbelievable.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Myrael tilted her head, her gaze playful yet piercing. “Oh, I’ve looked into you, Adrian. You’ve been quite the topic of interest around here, you know. Let’s start with the basics: an orphan raised in a convent, with no record of your birth parents. And then there’s your fire magic: blue flames, no less, something this world hasn’t seen in centuries.”

Adrian’s mouth went dry, but she wasn’t finished. How does she know all this

“And, let us not forget, you’ve somehow managed to win over the favor of Princess Alisha Fairwind. Quite the feat, wouldn’t you say?”

Adrian felt his face flush, the heat spreading to the tips of his ears. He stammered, struggling to find his words. “We’re… we’re just friends.”

Myrael’s laugh was soft but rich. “Oh, darling, I have no doubt. But friendships can be just as remarkable, don’t you think?”

Adrian looked away, the corner of his mouth twitching into a sheepish smile despite himself. Great. Now even the principal’s teasing me.

She folded her hands atop the desk, her demeanor shifting subtly to something more serious. “Now, about this business with Professor Damien. It’s clear there’s tension between the two of you. I have my suspicions as to why, but I’d like to hear your thoughts. How do you think we should proceed?”

“I don’t know. He’s made it obvious he doesn’t like me, but I don’t want this to escalate." Adrian said.

“A reasonable stance. But what if I told you we could resolve this in a way that ensures both your dignity and his reputation remain intact?”

“Hold on, why are you so willing to help me? This… it feels too easy.”

Myrael's smile returned, sharper now. “Oh, Adrian, I don’t help people out of the kindness of my heart. I help people who interest me. And you, my dear, are nothing short of fascinating. It would be such a shame to lose you over something as trivial as a classroom spat.”

Her words sent a mix of emotions swirling in Adrian's chest: relief, doubt, and a lingering unease. He studied her, searching for any sign of ulterior motives, but all he found was that same enigmatic smile. Is she serious?

Finally, he exhaled and leaned back slightly in his chair. “What do you have in mind?”

Myrael’s smile deepened, the flickering light from the chandelier catching in her dark eyes. “Leave that to me. For now, consider this matter… handled.”

Adrian shifted in his seat, his gaze fixed on Myrael’s face as he weighed her words. The faint, playful curve of her lips and the glint in her dark eyes didn’t inspire much confidence. His fingers drummed lightly against the armrest of the chair, a nervous energy bubbling just under the surface.

“With all due respect, I still don’t trust you. This whole thing feels... off.” Adrian said.

“Oh, Adrian, I wouldn’t expect you to trust me. Trust is a rare luxury in places like this, wouldn’t you agree?” Myrael said, chuckling lightly.

He raised an eyebrow, still watching her closely. She’s not even denying it. That’s not exactly reassuring.

“Let’s put it this way, you are in an unenviable position, one that could have unfortunate consequences if left unresolved. But what if I offered you a way to not only clear your name but prove yourself in a way that no one, Damien included, could challenge?”

“And what would I have to do? I don’t like where this is going.”

“A favor for a favor. That’s all. You help me, and I ensure that this incident with Damien disappears, along with any potential damage to your reputation.”

“I’m… willing to listen. What exactly are you asking for?”

“To put it bluntly, there’s a rot festering in the heart of this academy, Adrian. Something hidden beneath the surface, and I suspect it’s growing.”

Adrian frowned, leaning forward slightly. “What do you mean by that?”

“Let’s just say… I have reason to believe there are activities occurring within these walls that are both unusual and dangerous in nature. Activities that, if left unchecked, could harm far more than just the academy’s reputation.” Myrael explained.

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Adrian’s pulse quickened as he tried to process her meaning. I knew there was something off about this place.

He narrowed his eyes, his tone cautious. “And you want me to investigate? Why not bring in the professors? Or the royal family, for that matter? Surely Princess Alisha could help.”

Myrael tilted her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Ah, the royal family. A tempting option, but one fraught with complications. I’ve tried the conventional solutions, Adrian. Trust me when I say that they led nowhere. Professors have their own agendas, and the royal family… well, their involvement would draw unwanted attention to matters I’d prefer to keep discreet.”

Adrian’s frown deepened. “Discreet? Isn’t that the opposite of what you’re doing by asking me? I’m a student, not an investigator.”

“That’s precisely why you’re perfect for the task. You’re new here, still figuring out your place. And yet, you have abilities that set you apart. Your flames alone make you a walking anomaly, why not let that work in your favor?”

"You’re asking me to trust you, to stick my neck out, when you’ve given me nothing to work with but vague warnings and cryptic hints.”

“I’m asking you to consider an opportunity, Adrian. You don’t trust me, and that’s fine. But think of what’s at stake. If I’m right, what you uncover could change everything."

This is all happening so fast, but I need to make a choice soon. I still don't trust Principal Faesbane much, but she is indeed offering me a lifeline that is hard for me to refuse for now. If nothing else, it might still be best to play along with her plans for now. At the very least, she seems to be aware of something bad going on in the academy.

Adrian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s say I agree to this. What’s your plan?"

Myrael’s eyes gleamed, her smile returning to its full, enigmatic curve. “For now, all I need is your agreement to work with me. We’ll discuss specifics when the time comes.”

He studied her for a long moment, the tension in his chest refusing to dissipate. Finally, he nodded. “Alright, I'm in."