After several lessons, most of us were holding up our heads with our elbows, stomachs growling loud enough to echo.
Francine noticed.
“Center of the room,” she said, clapping her hands once. The orb above flared, spilling light in every direction and chasing the gloom from the corners.
We rose gratefully from our seats and shuffled toward the ring of rugs in the middle of the classroom.
“You’ll need to refresh yourselves,” Francine said, adjusting her sleeves. “So, we can continue with the lesson.”
Reed just stared down at the hem of his cloak, fiddling with it, clearly annoyed at himself. The sun had already reset his magic on the way in.
Olivander gave him a sympathetic glance. Dain stuck out his tongue.
I closed my eyes and focused. I pictured the spell.
I imagined myself getting out of bed on one of those lazy mornings where the air was warm and slow, and the whole day belonged to me.
I focused on that feeling: relaxed, calm, and freshly rested.
We cast it together.
The air shimmered faintly. Threads of silver light stretched from fingertip to fingertip, weaving across the room like soft rain in reverse. A gentle hum filled the space as the spell settled.
And just like that, the tiredness faded.
I could feel the spell working, my body lighter, my thoughts sharper.
I reached inward for the familiar spark of magic at my core. It was gone.
We reached for the curtains and opened them together.
Sunlight flooded the room in a golden spill, catching on dust motes and casting dancing shadows across our desks. It touched our skin a moment later, warm and steady, like the embrace of a familiar friend.
I felt it return at once, the comfort of something missing now restored.
As the light settled over us, I whispered a silent thanks to Lumisiel. My body brightened. My soul steadied.
All of us let out a breath of quiet relief.
Well, except for Reed. Of course, he still looked tired.
We sat back down, pulled out our breakfast boxes, and dug in.
Of course, after that, we had equations to solve.
But with my mind clear and my magic restored, I flew through the lesson. I finished second, just behind Jorren, though I gave him a look to let him know I’d catch up soon enough.
Reed was nodding off in his seat, but the rest of the class was still sharp from the spell.
While they wrapped up, I picked up my carving knife and leaned over my desk. I added a smooth curve to the edge of the Stormray I’d been sketching there, long wings spread wide, tail trailing off like a ribbon. The grooves caught the light just right, almost like it was flying.
***
After everyone finally caught up, we moved on to the next lesson: law.
Francine didn’t stand behind her desk this time. She walked to the windows and closed the curtains one by one. The room dimmed. Olivander passed out our law journals in silence.
“Duchess Aurelisse,” Francine began. “A noble of old blood, widely respected. But then there were rumors, quiet, persistent ones, that she was hiding a demon in her castle.”
A murmur passed through the class. I folded my arms across my desk and leaned forward.
“Why would anyone protect a demon?” Reed asked behind me.
“It warped her mind,” Francine answered. “Made her think they were lovers. Or family. They aren’t sure.”
She set her notes down and perched on the edge of her desk. The orb dimmed. Now, only the mushrooms glowed faintly, casting blue shadows that clung to her face like a mask.
She continued, voice low. “The Pope sent inquisitors in to investigate.”
I pictured them at once, cloaked in shadow and scripture. They didn’t march. They arrived. Quiet. Precise. Terrifying.
“They followed protocol. Requested entry. But without proof, the duchess refused. Sovereign law protects noble estates.”
“So, what did they do?” Talla asked.
Francine’s eyes gleamed. “They ambushed the servants outside the estate, bound them, gagged them, and stole their uniforms. Then cloaked themselves in illusion spells, took their faces, their voices.”
A gasp swept the room. We’d been taught this in no uncertain terms: impersonation magic was illegal across the entire continent.
“They served drinks. Cleaned halls. Waited. Then, just before dawn, they slipped away from the servants’ wing and deeper into the manor.”
Her voice dipped even lower.
“They broke in. No warrant. No permission. They scaled the walls and breached the private wing.”
Mira clutched her journal to her chest.
“They searched the cellars first. Nothing. No scent. No signs of corruption.” Francine let the silence stretch, letting doubt sink in. “Still, they didn’t turn back. They combed the halls. Guest rooms. Even the duchess’s personal study.”
She stood and began pacing slowly. Her steps echoed.
“And then they were seen.”
A beat.
“A single guard turned the corner. Froze. Then shouted.”
Her hand snapped upward like the ringing of a bell. “The alarm sounded, loud and sharp as judgment.”
I could see it: torchlight shaking, shadows leaping. Curtains catching fire. Screams.
“Steel was drawn. Spells cracked through the halls. By then, the inquisitors were deep inside.. They had broken sovereign law. Killed guards. Lit a noble’s house aflame.”
She paused by the board, eyes scanning us.
“They had one chance left: be right. Or be damned.”
My heart thundered in my chest.
“In a room across from the duchess’s bedchamber…”
She let the hush settle.
“They found it.”
A shiver crawled up my spine.
“A demon,” she said. “And not just one. A nest.”
The word struck like thunder.
I saw it: a thing clinging to the rafters, limbs too long, body too thin, glowing eyes like molten glass. The walls shimmered, sweating heat. Spawn slithered from beneath the floorboards and between bricks in the walls.
“They fought,” Francine said, voice reverent now. “Cloaks in tatters. Smoke trailing behind them. In the battle, the demon was able to flee the room.”
I pictured it instantly: a shattered leg dragging across scorched tile, blood spattering with every step. One of them clutching a ruined stump where an arm used to be, spells flaring wild and uneven from the other hand. Demons shrieking in the dark. Fire biting at the walls.
Francine let the silence stretch before continuing.
“They emerged without a single injury.”
I blinked.
“No injuries at all?” Dain asked.
“The battle was hard-fought,” she said, her tone calm. “But they were never losing. They never bled.”
The scene in my head changed: powerful figures strolling through the burning manor, demon corpses piled around them. Their cloaks flowed like banners. Their faces never showed.
“They purged the estate. Cleansed it in flame and light.”
A chandelier crashed down. A demon screamed as it died.
“They found the demon with Duchess Aurelisse.”
I imagined the duchess, her eyes glazing over, her hair unwashed, clothes in tatters.
Francine’s voice sharpened.
“She pleaded. Lied. Tried to protect it. But the inquisitors did not listen. They burned the demon alive and bound the duchess in chains of sanctified gold.”
She turned back to the board.
“But they weren’t,” I said quietly.
If they had been… all those guards would’ve died for nothing.
I could barely stomach the thought.
Francine nodded. “Exactly. The law protects nobility, unless demons are involved.”
She began pacing again.
“Inquisitors are the Church’s sharpest blade. But they gambled everything. If they’d failed… they’d have died.”
Mira raised her hand. “And what happened to the duchess?”
“She was sent to the Spire of Judgment,” Francine said. “Her title stripped. Her dukedom granted to the Icylln clan.”
“The Spire? That’s in Myrrhevia, right?” Talla asked.
“No. The Sanctus Citadel,” Jorren muttered. “Where the Pope lives.”
Of course. First thing he says all day, and it’s to correct someone.
I looked down at my notes.
I hadn’t written a single word.
I imagined Duchess Aurelisse, begging to save a demon.
It had made her love it.