-Alexia-
The library's main hall was silent, thick with the scent of aged paper and the low, frantic hum of chaos magic I'd woven into the very air. Finn was at a back table, his dragon energy a warm, impatient presence, while Soren moved like a phantom, already mapping the best spots for counter-surveillance wards. Kira and Jasper stood with me, their faces etched with the same determined weariness I felt. Rowan lingered near the door, quiet and watchful. We weren't just planning a defense; we were planning a rebellion.
"The Accords aren't about control; they're about fear," I murmured, tracing a complex, three-pronged glyph on the table. "They need the students to turn on each other. If we let them target the youngest, they win without firing a single spell."
I pushed a subtle thread of chaos into the glyph, watching the silver light twist and stabilize. "We need a unit—a small group who can learn to shield their minds and their magic, quickly. I'll focus on the students who are most vulnerable to binding: the witches and the fae."
Kira nodded, her braid swinging. "I'll handle the logistics. They'll need a story. Maybe extra tutoring sessions for advanced spellwork—something the Council won't immediately suspect."
"They'll suspect," Soren cut in, his voice a low shadow. He returned from the shelves, a brittle, forgotten map of the wards in his hands. Zeus padded in from the corridor, his ears pricked high, amber eyes scanning the empty hall before he settled at my feet, his weight a steady anchor.
"The Headmistress confirmed it. Surveillance charms are already in place, likely woven into the school's oldest runes," Soren continued, spreading the map. "They want to know who we trust. Someone inside is reporting every move we make—every student I watch, every interaction I have with you, every time Finn's scales flash."
A cold knot tightened in my chest. A spy. Not Gideon, but someone here, inside our walls, willing to betray the school.
Zeus let out a low, unsettling growl, his attention fixed not on the map, but on the main archway. I felt the warning through our bond—sharp, protective, like a blade being drawn.
"Alexia?" Finn stood up, his gaze following the line of Zeus's stare. "What is it?"
"It's not a spell I sense," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "It's a presence. Someone is listening right now."
I dropped the pretense of the planning session. The moment the spy realized they were compromised, they would report. We had to move. Fast.
I crouched, pressing my palm against a dusty floor rune. Instead of reinforcing the ward, I wove a thin, almost invisible veil of chaos magic—not a shield, but a disruption spell. It wouldn't block the surveillance charm, but it would twist the data it collected, making the next few hours of information useless static.
"Soren, take Zeus. Track the charm back to its source," I commanded, my voice gaining its iron edge. "Don't engage, just identify the hand that cast it."
Soren didn't question the order. He was already a shadow slipping across the floor. "Ready, boy?"
Zeus nudged my hand once, a silent promise, then followed Soren into the gloom, a massive, silent hunter.
"Finn, Kira, start the training list. Quietly. Now," I said, the words clipped and urgent. "Jasper, you're with me. We're going to secure the training location. If these students are fae, they'll need your stabilizing light to counter the chaos I'm about to teach them."
Jasper straightened, his usual tension tightening his jaw. "Yes. I can secure it." His voice was low, committed.
We moved quickly, slipping out the back of the library. Our destination was the old Observatory Annex, a forgotten tower built on a nexus point that amplified fae magic.
As we crossed the outer grounds, Jasper walked slightly ahead, his fae-light already leaking out in a faint, protective mist that seemed to soften the air around us.
"Are you worried about the spy?" he asked, not looking back.
"Worrying is a waste of energy," I said, focusing on the chaos threads that still felt agitated from the Council's surveillance. "But whoever it is, they're scared. That's why the Council uses them. We need to counter their fear-driven magic with control."
The Annex was dark, its stone cold even in the fading daylight. Jasper took the lead, pushing open the heavy, creaking door. The silence inside was heavy, unbroken.
He pressed his hand against the central pillar, and a soft, rhythmic pulse of fae-light bled from his palm, spreading across the floor. It was a beautiful, stable white—the precise, grounding magic the volatile chaos students needed.
"It's secured," he murmured, stepping back. "We're safe to work here."
I stepped beside him, feeling the stability of the space. My own chaos, which usually hummed with restless energy, felt momentarily settled, anchored by his power.
"You did well, Jasper," I said, meaning it.
He finally looked at me, a flicker of something raw and hopeful in his eyes before he turned his attention back to the tower's defenses, determined to prove that the anchor I'd given him was one he deserved.
Jasper's fae-light was a solid, reassuring barrier. I trusted him to anchor the space. His quiet focus was a needed contrast to the restless energy coiling inside me, fueled by the knowledge that a spy was likely feeding information to the Council right now.
We didn't have long. I heard a shuffle of footsteps outside, quickly silenced. Kira was good; she was bringing the students in small, quiet batches, under the guise of an evening study group.
The first group entered the Observatory Annex—three young witches and two fae. They were the most vulnerable: the witches, whose raw, earth-bound power was easily suppressed by Council magic, and the fae, whose light and emotional state were easily manipulated. One of the fae was the young girl I'd spoken to in the courtyard, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement.
"Welcome," I said, my voice low and calm. "You are here because the Council is preparing to use a set of binding spells against this school. They want to control your magic and your lives. We are going to teach you how to make sure that doesn't happen."
I stepped into the center of the room, my chaos magic already responding to the quiet fear in the room. It swirled around me like liquid silver, potent and alive, but I held it close.
"The goal is not power, it's silence," I instructed. "You need to hide your magical signature—to look like nothing is happening, even when you're casting. I will throw chaos at you. Jasper will stabilize the room. You will learn to shield your thread of power with your will."
I gestured to Jasper. "Fae-light on the outside, chaos on the inside. Ready."
Jasper nodded, stepping forward. His white light pulsed, filling the small space, pushing back the shadows. It was the precise, disciplined energy of a healer and a shield—the perfect counterweight to my volatility.
I started small, sending a thin, silver tendril toward the witch closest to me. She flinched, trying to push back with a shield spell, but her magic was a beacon—bright, easily detectable, and quickly overwhelmed by the chaos.
"Too slow! Too visible!" I called out, pulling my magic back before it touched her. "If the Council saw that, you'd be gone."
I repeated the exercise, ratcheting up the pressure. The air grew thick with frustration, fear, and the sheer effort of five students trying to force their magic to shrink inward. Jasper was a rock, offering calm encouragement, but I saw the strain on his face as he absorbed the excess, panicked energy.
Just as the fae girl managed to make her light dim to a barely visible flicker—a small victory—I felt a shift in the ambient magic of the school.
It was Soren's shadow. He was returning, and he was moving with an unnerving silence that meant the news was bad.
A second later, he materialized at the back of the Annex, Zeus padding in quietly beside him. Soren's eyes met mine, a flicker of warning there, before he glanced deliberately toward the outer perimeter. My gaze followed his.
Rowan was standing twenty feet away, just outside the Annex door, looking up at the sky. He was entirely still, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. A non-magical staff member, entirely harmless, but his presence, framed by Soren's tension, was deeply unsettling.
Soren didn't say a word. He didn't have to. The message was clear: The surveillance charm leads to this area.
I let my chaos magic recede entirely, forcing a sudden silence onto the room. The five students looked up, confused by the abrupt stop.
"That's enough for tonight," I said, my voice sharp. "Don't discuss this training. Don't mention the Accords. Go straight back to your dorms."
As the students rushed out, their faces pale with worry, I met Soren's eyes. He gave a fractional shake of his head—a confirmation that the spy was elusive, but the threat was very real.