Chapter 6

CHAPTER6

Sera

Weeks had passedsince Drazhan first unleashed his cruelty, and I bore fresh scars, unseen but no less real. His relentless torment had become the background static to my days, inescapable. Survival meant adapting—letting the daily cuts accumulate as armor against the next blow. I was a quick study in the art of endurance.

I slid silently into my seat for divination as Drazhan and his sycophants entered behind me. Their taunts had grown unimaginative with repetition. The words barely registered beneath my skin anymore. Let them cast their paltry stones; they would never penetrate the walls I’d built.

“How nice! We’ve got this class together, dear Sera,” Drazhan purred, claiming the desk directly behind mine. “We’ll get to spend some quality time.” His friends sniggered predictably.

I didn’t honor him with even a glance, unpacking my textbook with calm precision. Another trick I had mastered—utter indifference destroyed him faster than any reaction.

Professor Bishop breezed in, his colorful robes billowing. “Welcome, class. Find your centers as we open our minds to the whispered wisdom of the cards...”

As the professor guided us into meditative breathing, I let my thoughts drift, Drazhan’s airy voice fading to background noise. Divination was my refuge, a realm where obscure signs portended hidden truths. Mundane cruelty held no power here.

“Begin your practice readings,” Professor Bishop instructed, handing out worn decks of cards. “The future waits to be interpreted.”

I settled into the familiar ritual, shuffling my deck. With eyes closed, I drew three cards, laying them face down. As I concentrated on my question—“What path lies ahead this year?”—the cards began to glow, responding to the focused energy.

Flipping them over, I gasped, the sound lost in the murmur of other students. Dread pierced my calm façade. My cards spelled out an explicit threat—Death, the Tower, the Three of Swords.

Professor Bishop appeared silently beside me, concern etched on his face. Without a word, he flipped additional cards, his expression growing grimmer with each ominous reveal—the Five of Pentacles, the Empress, the Seven of Swords...I stared at the chilling tableau, struggling to decipher its meaning. But foreboding hung heavy over the reading.

“Seraphina.” He gripped my shoulder, voice hushed and urgent. “We must speak in private. Please come to my office after class.” His anxious eyes implored me to agree.

I nodded mutely, a chill spreading through my veins despite the room’s warmth. Whatever truth the professor had read in those terrible cards, it was not meant for listening ears.

Class ended not a moment too soon. I gathered my things quickly, hoping to escape Drazhan and his prying gaze. But he was expecting me.

The breath left my lungs in a pained rush as he grabbed my already-injured wrist, wrenching me back. “Rushing off somewhere important?” he demanded. Behind him, Cassius and his minions blocked the exit, leering in anticipation. They would not let me leave without fresh torment.

Panicked, I searched for an escape route. As if summoned, the screech of the Academy’s warning bell split the air. It was reserved only for dire emergencies, its urgent shrilling commanding the immediate presence of all students and faculty.

Drazhan released me with a scowl, clearly as disturbed as I was. Without a backward glance, I joined the anxious exodus filling the halls, getting swept along in the churning human tide. Never had I welcomed such upheaval. Something ominous was unfolding, but at least it freed me from my tormentor.

The Great Hall was in chaos when I arrived. Hundreds of confused voices echoed off the cavernous ceilings as we crowded between the long wooden tables. Fear and speculation hung thick in the air.

At last, the massive doors groaned open. Headmistress Blackthorn stood framed in the entryway, her piercing eyes commanding instant silence. Spine rigid, she paced deliberately to the front dais, black robes swishing softly over the stones.

With an elegant wave of her hand, the rows of torches lining the walls flared to life, casting a shifting glow over the assembled throng. She gazed intently down at us, as though weighing each and every soul.

A shiver ran through me under her searching stare. Though not directed at anyone, the Headmistress’ disapproval was tangible.

“Students, I have summoned you here because troubling events are unfolding.” Her voice rang through the hall, clear and grave. “There have been signs... omens which cannot be ignored.”

Another gesture opened swirling mists above us, forming dark and threatening images—storms, flames, weeping shadows that clawed at one another over desolate landscapes. Students gasped and whispered, but a quelling look from the Headmistress stilled any outbursts.

When the mists cleared, her piercing stare found me unerringly, as if sensing my private turmoil. “There are those who would disrupt the balance between light and shadow for their own selfish ends. We must stand vigilant against this rising threat, both without and within these walls.”

Though she did not call me out directly, an icy fist closed around my heart. Did the Headmistress suspect my role in whatever darkness was brewing?

Her words resonated through my bones. My cards had shown what she would not tell directly. Danger was near, though from what quarter, I still could not tell. But her warnings left no doubt of it.

Ophelia Blackthorn stood tall and regal, her black hair streaked with silver and pulled back into a tight bun. Her piercing gaze swept over us, daring anyone to defy her authority. “Our school has weathered countless storms. The threats besieging it will never come to fruition,” she continued. “Now, I must ask you to report any suspicious findings to me or our professors.” She paused. “That will be all. You may be excused.”

As we silently filed outside the hall, urgent questions churned through my mind. Who at the Academy could wish us harm, and why?

Lost in agonizing speculation, I nearly screamed when a hand gripped my shoulder. Whirling, I stared into Professor Bishop’s somber eyes. In his distraction, he’d frightened me. Rarely had I seen the unflappable man so shaken.

“Come, Seraphina. We haven’t much time.” With no further explanation, he guided me quickly through long narrow passages towards his office, one firm hand on my back as though fearing I too might disappear into the ether. My sense of foreboding grew with each hurried step.

Once inside, with the door firmly latched, Professor Bishop bade me sit. He did not take his own chair, too agitated to keep still. I watched nervously as he paced, gathering his thoughts before speaking.

I sat rigidly in the plush chair across from his imposing desk, clutching the engraved arms for support. Professor Bishop now stood solemnly before me, a protective presence as we prepared to disclose the full extent of the danger I faced.

“My dear, you are in grave peril,” he declared, but the voice spoke behind me.

Heart jolted into a gallop, I whipped my head towards the sound and met Professor Bishop, poised yet restless as he now stood by the flaming hearth.

“Let me be plain,” he said, showing palms. “This is not just about your tarot reading, my dear.” A pause. “Troubling signs have arisen that cannot be ignored. Ever since the beginning of the school term, there have been strange magical energy fluctuations detected on the grounds at night…” The words drifted into silence, but he recaptured them fast. “The signatures suggest someone is dabbling in forbidden spells.”

His sharp eyes gauged my reactions. “Dark forces are in motion.” Professor Bishop nodded gravely. “Just as the cards revealed,” he solemnly said.

He paced before the flickering fireplace, hands clasped tightly at his back. “I had hoped it was the paranoid imaginings of an old man. But now, I fear more sinister motives are at play within these walls.”

The professor stopped before the desk and swiftly pulled the drawer open. He slipped a hand inside and grabbed a fistful of runes, which he then tossed into a square silver bowl.

Stunned by his revelation, I forced myself to speak. “And you believe I may be a target of these latent… forces?” I asked.

I started as Professor Bishop materialized at my side. He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly before responding. “I’m afraid the runes confirm it.” Slowly, he crouched until our stares leveled. “Your life is in peril from an unknown threat here.” His sharp hazel eyes narrowed. “But we’ll get to the bottom of this, won’t we, Seraphina?” A warm smile curled his lips.

Someone wants me dead. A tendril of panic flickered through my being. I looked up at Professor Bishop. “We will?” I uttered, lacking his enviable confidence.

Sensing my fear, Professor Bishop added gently, “It’s time we shed light on this vile scheme before anyone gets hurt.”

I managed a shaky nod, bolstered by his calm assurance.

“Good.” Pleased, the professor stepped back. “Darkness reigns only when good people do nothing,” he said as he gathered the runes. “We shall strive to do much.”

Despite the fear constricting my heart, I found his words oddly comforting. I was not as alone in this nightmare as I had thought. Here was someone fighting in my corner of the ring, however dark and dirty the match had become.

Professor Bishop studied me intently, steepling his fingers under his bearded chin. “Tell me, Seraphina—do you have any rivals here at the academy? Anyone who harbors enmity towards you?”

I bit my lip, hesitating. Then, I confessed reluctantly, “Well, Drazhan and his friend Cassius have been giving me a hard time this term...”

The professor nodded thoughtfully, but did not seem surprised. “We shall have to keep an eye on those two.” He patted my hand reassuringly. “But do not despair. With truth on our side, the culprits behind these threats will not remain hidden for long.”

“Should we go to the Headmistress with this?” I asked shakily.

But Professor Bishop was already shaking his head. “Not until we know more. Accusations require proof, which we cannot yet provide. But I promise you, the truth will be brought to light… You need not fight this battle alone.”

He gave my hands one final reassuring squeeze before pulling me gently upright. “Now, return to your room and get some rest. The hour grows late, and you will need your strength.”

He walked me to the door, his concerned gaze following me all the way down the winding stairs. I still had no answers, only growing fear. But it helped tremendously knowing someone as skilled as Professor Bishop stood by my side. If dark conspiracies were brewing, we would root them out before they could strike.

I thanked him in silence and took my leave in a daze, even more uncertain than before. Could I trust no one fully? And what about Drazhan—could he be capable of such malice? And without proof, how could we stop him and this unnamed threat?

Until the truth was uncovered, it seemed suspicion stained every corner of Blackthorn’s halls.