At the edge of nowhere stood a magical academy—run-down enough it might've been abandoned if not for the occasional burst of magical energy setting off the fire alarm every other Monday.
Shuttered windows rattled in the wind. The gargoyle on the west tower had been replaced by a mop bucket. Somewhere inside, a broken intercom system crackled the national anthem on loop—off-key and out of tune.
This is Westhex Academy for Magical Studies. Proudly ranked dead last for the past five decades of the whole nation.
Inside a dim office, smelling faintly of old parchment and professional burnout, Mr. Mister sat slouched behind his desk, nursing his third coffee. He had dark circles under his eyes—sharper than any dagger spell—and the permanent expression of a man who hadn't known joy since the work contract was invented.
Then there was a knock.
"Excuse me," came a small voice as the door creaked open.
In peeked Lia—a soft-spoken girl with tangled bangs and permanent secondhand anxiety. She stepped in quickly, as if afraid the door might regret opening for her.
Behind her, without a word, slipped in Niko—a bespectacled boy with an expression so neutral it could be used in laboratory tests.
"…What?" Mr. Mister raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't there be three of you?"
"I'm here!" shouted a third voice.
Rai—spiky-haired and entirely lacking self-preservation—popped out from behind Niko's back like a badly summoned familiar. Lia jumped. Niko blinked. Mr. Mister didn't. He was long past the capacity for surprise.
"You three," he began, "are at the absolute bottom of your grade. Statistically speaking, you've performed so poorly it's almost magical in itself."
Rai grinned proudly. Lia looked like she might faint. Niko calmly jotted that down in a notebook.
"So," Mr. Mister continued, "you're getting a special assignment. Investigate the abandoned building behind the school. Uncover its secrets. Come back alive. Maybe I'll let you pass."
"…What kind of secrets?" Niko asked.
"The kind that might kill you," he replied, sipping his coffee.
Rai whooped. Lia whimpered. Niko added a question mark next to "alive."
* * *
The abandoned hall loomed like a horror movie villain waiting for a musical cue. Ivy strangled its windows. The door creaked before they even touched it.
Lia hesitated.
"Should we, um… do rock, paper, scissors to see who goes first?"
Niko was already reaching for the handle.
"Too late!" Rai shouted, shoulder-barging it open instead.
They stepped inside. The interior was somehow worse than the outside. Dust hung in the air like it paid rent. Broken desks and the vague smell of academic regret filled the space.
They spread out, poking through cobwebbed cabinets and whispering spells that fizzled like sad fireworks.
"There's nothing here," Niko declared eventually. "Maybe the real test was just effort."
"Nah," said Rai, tipping over a desk. "Maybe the ghosts are just shy."
"Please don't anger the spirits," Lia muttered.
Fate, evidently listening, responded with a crack.
The floorboard beneath Lia gave way. With a startled yelp, she vanished into the darkness.
"Lia!" Niko and Rai shouted, rushing toward the hole.
They found a staircase—narrow and half-rotted—and descended into the basement.
It was a dusty, forgotten place lit only by fractured moonlight slipping through cracks in the floorboards above. Lia sat on the ground, shaken but intact.
Behind her, something shimmered.
A bookshelf stood crooked in the far corner. At its center, nestled among ruined tomes, was a golden grimoire, faintly glowing.
"Jackpot," Rai whispered, already reaching for it.
"Wait—" Niko and Lia said in unison.
Too late.
The moment Rai opened it, a wave of energy pulsed through the room. Light flared. Runes carved themselves into the air—and into their skin.
Then the world tilted. Colors surged behind their eyes—and everything went black.
* * *
They awoke to silence.
Dust floated in the stale air. The book still glowed faintly nearby, untouched by the filth around it.
Niko sat up with a groan, rubbing his arms.
"Uh… is it just me, or are we glowing?" Lia asked.
They looked. Strange glyphs—sharp and geometric—flickered across their skin, glowing faintly before fading again.
"I think I just got branded by a cursed rave," Rai muttered.
Lia's eyes widened. "Oh my god. Is this permanent? My mom is going to kill me."
"Mine too," Niko said. "Assuming this doesn't kill me first."
Rai grinned weakly. "Still. First tattoo. In a haunted house. Kinda badass."
The golden book remained on the floor. Niko reached toward it—only for it to blink out of existence and reappear in Rai's hands.
"What the—HEY." Rai shouted.
"Not it!" He said, tossing it to Lia.
She yelped and tried not to drop it, but it clung to her like glue. A moment later, it blinked away—and returned to Rai.
They tried everything. Wrapping it in cloth. Throwing it in a cabinet. Stuffing it under broken floor tiles.
It always came back.
Always to Rai.
"…I think it likes you," Niko said.
"Tell it I'm not into books that stalk me," Rai muttered.
Still rattled and now technically smuggling magical contraband, the trio trudged back to Mr. Mister's office, leaving a trail of dusty footprints across the marble floors of Westhex.
Mr. Mister squinted as they entered—then froze when he saw the book.
His expression shifted from confusion… to dread.
It was the kind of look people wore when they saw a ghost. Or worse—surprise inspections from the Ministry of Arcane Education.
"Where did you get that?" he asked, voice suddenly sharp.
"The haunted house," Niko said, still panting. "Underneath. There was a whole basement. With traps. And—possibly a whispering skeleton? I don't know. It was dark. And deeply traumatic."
Mr. Mister reached for the book, but before he could touch it, it blinked—reappearing instantly in Rai's arms.
They tried to explain. Tried to pass it again. But no matter what they did, the golden book clung to Rai like a magical fungus.
At last, Mr. Mister sighed—the kind of sigh that came from decades of crushed expectations and caffeine withdrawals.
"Go to your dorms," he muttered. "We'll talk tomorrow."
None of them protested.
Not even Rai, who usually had a punchline ready.
They left, exhausted and confused. The golden book still shimmered faintly in Rai's arms.
Behind them, as the door clicked shut, Mr. Mister locked it.
He crossed to a dusty cabinet, pulled out a weathered artifact wrapped in crimson cloth, and whispered into the still, magic-thick air.
A glowing rune materialized.
"Report," it said.
Mr. Mister swallowed.
"It's back," he whispered.
* * *