Arthur sat alone in his study, his hand cupped around his forehead as he read late into the night. It was cold and dark outside and an icy gale blew from the north, howling as it passed over his tower. He closed the shutters to his window with a gesture and renewed the light of his magician's candle. The words in the book before him were ancient, even in the old world, chronicles of the olden days kept intact through magic means. He read them using a spell that could translate the old text to contemporary English. Arthur read of heroes, monsters and unspeakable evils past. He looked over them quickly but none of them interested him, none of them were familiar to him in the way the dark magicks ensnaring the Ghillie Dhu were.
	"Dear, you must rest," Nambra whispered in his ear as she wrapped her arms around him. He shrugged her off, not wanting to break his concentration.
	"Are there any more books you can get me?" He asked firmly.
	Nambra shook her head and exhaled sharply, her cloven feet clacking on the stone floor as she paced, "I am afraid that is the last of them on this subject," She answered in a tone that empathized with the disappointment he felt. 
	Arthur waved his hand, "No matter. I will continue looking."
	"I don't think the answers we are looking for are in a book," Nambra cautioned, watching her husband speed through the rest of the pages. He realized she was right, this book would not have what he was looking for, nor any other. He knew now, but the pit in his gut told him that something was stirring in the realms of magic, something deep in the darkness where men dare not tread. It was the calm before the storm, he could feel it in his bones. He looked up into his wife's fiery eyes with a frown.
	"I fear what is coming," He stated, moving from his desk to the telescope pointing out of his window. After gazing through it and adjusting it, he beckoned his wife over to look inside. She obliged him, putting her eye to the glass. A gasp escaped her lips, the stars aligned and told her of an evil they both knew by name.
	"It cannot be," She hissed, "We destroyed him! His soul was obliterated in the fires of Hel. I saw it, we saw it!"
	Arthur raised his brows and gestured for her to look again. She gazed through the seeing glass one more time and fell silent. It was similar, but something was different. It was the same evil, but not the same being, "The signs are pointing to an evil that we are both all too familiar with," Arthur said, "But I do not know how it manifests. Does it need a host? That so-called ‘Butcher’ leads me to believe so, but what if that is simply a herald for the coming dark?"
	"We cannot be certain of that. There is nothing left of its influence over the Ghillie Dhu," Nambra pointed out.
	"There may yet be. That young man, Loxley, was wounded by it. It could be residing within him now, growing in strength and feeding off his mana. We must find out at once, take my hand," He said, holding his staff above himself. Nambra grabbed onto his hand tightly, not protesting over the lateness of their visit. She knew this was too serious for such frivolous things.  At once the wizard teleported them both onto Fairgarland within the courtyard. It was the dead of night, with only a few security guards and student volunteers scattered in any direction on patrol. As soon as they had arrived, they were accosted by a taller woman. It was Catherine, the gargoyle on nightwatch.
	"Halt!" She called to them, readying herself for a scuffle. "State your business!"
	"We have no time for this, where is Loxley? Where is Galahad?" Arthur demanded, "We must speak with him at once!"
	The gargoyle looked them up and down and realized it was Arthur and his wife, immediately balking in questioning them further, "Is he in trouble?" Anyone that was around now stared at the small spectacle.
	"He may be if we don't get to him quickly!" Nambra replied. 
	"Follow me," Catherine said, leading the two towards House Karak-Albrac. It wasn't long before the three were inside. Most of the house members were asleep, but Catherine knew where to take them. With the wave of her hand, the Gargoyle cast the room seeking spell, “Loxley,” She stated. A line appeared on the floor that she guided the two along and through the labyrinthian halls of Karak-Albrac's dorms, taking them straight to Galahad Loxley's door. Arthur pounded a fist on the door several times, hoping that the duelist would hear them. Catherine shushed him, "You're going to wake up the whole house!"
	"This is more important than that. Galahad!" Arthur called. Moments later the door opened and the young man appeared, drowsy and disheveled from his slumber.
	"Galahad, good. We must speak." Arthur was curt, barging in past the duelist into his room. He examined every inch, Nambra following close behind as her eyes searched for anything out of place. 
	Galahad looked to Catherine warily, "What's this about…?"
	"They didn't say. They just said it was important." She answered sheepishly, “They’re grandmasters, what am I supposed to do?” She added in a hushed voice. The response irked Galahad but in reality he knew she was right.
	Arthur turned his attention to Galahad, satisfied that nothing was out of turn in his dorm.
	"Show me your wounds." He demanded.
	"My wounds?" Galahad repeated.
	"Yes, your wounds from the Butcher, show them to me!" Galahad had never seen or heard of Arthur acting in this way, and so he was shocked into complying, pulling off his shirt to show his chest. While the black sludge on his wounds was gone, some of the wounds still remained. The scabs on the claw wounds were a gross gray and his pierced shoulder had been covered by magicked skin.
	"It was healed just today by Miss Manus… is something the matter?" He asked.
	Arthur was too busy scrutinizing the contours and cuts of his wounds to listen, he eyed them carefully and stood straight moments later.
	"They're clean?" It was more in confusion than a question. "How can this be?"
	"As I said, Miss Manus cleansed them with old fairy magic." Galahad answered.
	"Cleansed by… fairy magic? Tell me, what was it like before this? Was it black? Did it exude a puss like substance like a pox?" Galahad looked from Arthur's grave expression to Nambra's one of concern.
	"Well… yeah, it was."
	"Describe how it made you feel," Nambra pressed him.
	"Tired. Irritated. It felt like my mana was being sapped away. Why? What's going on?"
	Nambra and Arthur exchanged looks that told Galahad that whatever it was, it was magnitudes worse than he could imagine, "It's nothing." Arthur lied, "Thank you for your time." He said, taking his wife's hand and teleporting them back to their tower, leaving Galahad and Catherine bewildered in a gust of wind.
	"What on earth was that about…?" Catherine wondered aloud, looking down as Randy the rat scurried out from his hiding place.
	"I have no idea," Galahad replied, a feeling of terror slowly creeping into his mind. Something wasn't right in the world, otherwise they wouldn’t have barged in like that. Galahad stumbled, causing Catherine to grab him with her stoney claws, “I need to sleep for now. I can worry later.”
	“O-Of course,” The gargoyle stood him up, “Uh, good night.”
	“Yeah, night,” Galahad picked up randy and returned to bed. He closed and locked the door behind Catherine with the wave of his hand. As soon as his eyes closed, sleep took him.

	Once again, the duelist awoke to slamming on his door. He groaned and sat up to find the culprits already in his room. Miss Manus led Sean and Rald into his dorm, “It's time for your checkup, Lox!” Rald decreed with a hopeful smile on her lips. Sean offered Galahad a look that expressed his reluctance to wake him, but it gave little comfort to the tired duelist. Manus' expression remained stone faced, her mood hard to read in the morning.
	"Just stick me with whatever you have to," Galahad groaned, offering up his arm from his bed. The goblin obliged, taking a little magical device with a needle on its end and poking it in his arm. Galahad felt a little pinch, but it was otherwise painless. He waited patiently for the goblin to finish. 
	"There, all done," She said, holding it up for him to see, "Looks like your mana flow is steady and strong! You're back to normal!" There was a collective sigh of relief in the room from all four of them, Galahad smiling up at Manus who returned it with her own.
	"Looks like you will have nary an excuse for studying," Said the fey-witch.
	"Same goes for you," He replied, "Did you practice any more wards?"
	Manus shook her head, "Of course not, it is still quite early in the morning and I still have duties to perform. I cannot afford to tire myself out so soon in the day."
	"Fair enough. An hour of practice is all you'll need anyway,” Galahad grunted as he sat up, “Still feeling a little weak.”
	Sean nodded, “Your strength will return in time. You have sustained more grievous wounds in a month than many do in a lifetime.”
	“Right…” 
	“Oh, since I have the two of you here, Miss Manus, is your council planning on taking a trip once Spring Break comes about?” Sean wondered as Rald wrote down the results of her test.
	“You know we never go anywhere for it,” The fey-president sighed.
	“Yes. But, you have your duelist now. I suspect he will change that,” Sean had a mischievous smile on his face.
	Galahad rubbed his shoulder, “Trip? What trip?”
	“It is a tradition at this academy,” Sean was grinning just thinking about it, “While most students go home for other seasonal breaks, during the spring, the students all stay. But, the councils of the Fairgarland Houses each take a week off to spend time away, a little break for our tired bones. Tropical resorts, camping, road tripping, and so on. My council is heading to see Mount Saint Helens this year! It's surprisingly beautiful for sundered lands. We will be headed to Portland, Oregon first, then up to the mountain, then travel up Washington to stop in Seattle.”
	“A bit too extravagant for me,” Miss Manus sighed, “I suppose we could have a meeting to talk about it.”
	“Just keep it in mind, Galahad. Anywho, we must be off,” Sean gave a bow.
	“Bye, Lox, bye Manus!” Rald gave a little wave and the two quickly left.
	Galahad collapsed back onto his bed, “I thought they’d never leave.”
	“Mhm. Here,” Miss Manus revealed from beneath her cloak a bundled towel. Undoing the bundle, Galahad found a very warm bowl with a lid, “Its chicken and potato stew. I had Suzie show me how to make it,” The fey woman explained.
	Popping it open, Galahad’s nose was hit by the delicious scent, “What's this for?”
	“Because you are sick. Well, almost sick and recovering,” She sheepishly admitted, “I thought it would be better for you than the sugary french toast they are serving this morning,” She pulled the desk’s chair over, “The whole house was worried for you. Most of campus, even. Your illness was debilitating you greatly. Not to mention the fight you had to deal with. I am glad Zucarius let you and Blud off the hook.”
	“Yeah…” Galahad sighed softly as he stared down into the brew. He waved his hand and a spoon flew from his small kitchenette and into his hand, “Thank you. Hopefully I can stop being such a burden.”
	“You never were one. It is Saturday and you should rest.”
	Galahad nodded and started to carefully eat the stew, blowing on the hot liquid before daring to consume it, “It's really good. Thank you. I had no idea you were such a masterful chef. You have so many skills.”
	“I-It was Suzie’s doing. Mostly,” Manus’s bluish skin turned a hint of pink, forcing her face away from the duelist, “H-here,” She used a spell to place an orange, a pear, a bottle of electrolyte-heavy sports drink, and a few bread rolls on the table beside her duelist.
	“Thank you very much, Miss Manus,” Galahad tore some bread and dunked it in his stew, “How are you this morning?”
	“I am well enough,” Randy scuttled by and stopped to smell the food’s delectable scents before continuing to drag a small blanket across the floor. Miss Manus watched him go, “Did you finally sleep well now that the curse has lifted?”
	“Not really,” He picked out a big piece of potato and happily ate it, “I had visitors.”
	“Visitors? Who on earth could it have been?”
	Galahad gave her a dark look, his face covered with worry, “Arthur Maxamillion and Nambra Faith,” Miss Manus gasped, but could easily think of a reason why. Galahad paused before continuing, “They wanted to see the wounds you had healed. I can only wonder if they foresee something happening soon, like it was a bad omen.”
	The fey was beside herself, “What can we do?”
	“Nothing, for now, but practice our abjuration together,” Galahad replied with a weary sigh, “You mentioned other odd occurrences at Fairgarland before, right?”
	“Yes, I did. Do you think there may be some connection?” Miss Manus was slowly turning white now, overcome with worry.
	The duelist ate a few more bites of food, “I don’t know if I can say so. I think the Butcher is just another thing to put on the list of nasty happenings. Just take it easy and don’t worry your head. You have enough on your plate right now.” 
	“I suppose you are right,” Miss Manus deferred to her duelist. She nodded slowly and removed her hat, setting it on the base of the bed, “Allow me to practice more under your tutelage. Just for a quick time.”
	“Of course, here let's make it easy today, try it with your crystal hands for one, Manus. Let’s say you are prepared to defend yourself and have your magic hands at the ready.”
	“If you insist…”

. . . . .
	
	“This is the last person I want here,” Headmaster Xavos growled as he followed Zucarius and Kal Spellbreaker down the long hallway. The busts of former deans and headmasters stared at the three as they went.
	“Ya’re being paranoid again,” Kal grunted as he adjusted his beard and jewelry, “Listen, I don’t like it either. I love this school because I have not needed to deal with elves, besides Professor Sh’Lak. Even then she is wonderful as she nearly blew up their capital!” He laughed and sighed slightly, “But… maybe you're right. Now we have to let a pompous Frankish elven Seer into our campus! For what? A monster that has been gone for two months? We saw it get banished for good! Case closed, the DHIF said so!”
	Zucarius nodded, “I hear you both. But this was not my decision. Arthur Maxamillion requested this.”
	“Aye, of course that g’plik did.”
	Xavos took his turn to sigh, “He may be a nosy meddler like you said. But if Arthur thinks something is afoot, I am bound to believe him.”
	“I still don’t like it, Rúbri,” Headmaster Spellbreaker’s dwarven nickname for Xavos was laden with respect, “Ilgorr,” He turned to Zucarius, “Promise me you won’t let this Frank overstep his bounds.”
	Zucarius nodded, “I will try, Professor Spellbreaker. Put on your Sunday best, chaps. Let us not give the International Mage Assembly any reason to send another field agent after this one,” Zucarius pushed open the tall double doors into a meeting room.
	“You are late, as expected,” The voice was nasally and haughty. Exactly what Headmasters Xavos and Spellbreaker expected. The elf stood next to the window on the far side of the room, casting a cold glow over his long blonde hair that was all brushed over to one side. He had sharp features, piercing, icey-white eyes, a pointed aquiline nose, and a pair of two pointy ears that stuck straight out from the sides of his head. His robes were immaculate for someone sent to investigate magical incidents, with colors of greens, whites and golds all layered and flowing like wind across his chest. His jewelry was gold laced with smaller emerald gemstones; combined with his robes it made it plain that he was of the elven aristocracy, but then that was to be expected of a Frankish elf in the International Mages Assembly. Golden embroidery went down his arms like long branches of a tree which extended when he stretched out his arms toward the three.
	"Lord Amon Desrosiers." Zucarius greeted him.
	"Zacharius Zucarius. Xavos Miligary Daldomel and… Kal Spellbreaker," He intoned coldly. He held a brightly colored wooden staff that was straight as an arrow but for the gently curving crook at the top like that of a shepherd's. At the top of the staff an owl rested. The owl’s feathers were black, orange, and white and the creature stared with big, judging, orange eyes at the dwarf, “I see I am once again made to clean up the follies of men. Why must I work with such foolish races, Hugo?” The elf spoke in French as he mused aloud.
	Zucarius cleared his throat, “This is my campus, I will not have you speaking ill of my faculty and students,” He replied in perfect French, “I know you come at Arthur’s behest, but I am in charge here. I know how you Seers operate.”
	The elf glared at the dean, “I take no orders from the other races of men. This entire ordeal should be settled but for Grandmaster Maxamillion's request. I could be in the Rhinelands now persuading the Kaiser into signing a disarmament agreement. But for the sake of Maxamillion and his insistence on how dangerous this incident still is, I will do my job as needed. Bring in your ‘victims’ so I may see the truth.”
	“I had no idea you spoke Frankish,” Professor Spellbreaker whispered warily.
	“I do not. Tongues is a very useful spell to enchant your hat with,” Zucarius gave him a very mischievous smile. A knock at the door made him stand up straight, “Ah, that should be our first of the Butcher's victims. Enter.”
	"You have given it a name?" The elf was indignant at the thought.
	"The students have given it a name. I believe that was in the report the DHIF would have given, or am I wrong?" Xavos replied. The elf shook his head and beckoned as they entered. Two people stepped through one of the doors. Percy, the halfling healer, and Yilandra, the elemental touched professor. Xavos cleared his throat, “You will find that these two were not the first to be kidnapped, but they did vanish together. We imagine this unique perspective will offer more details than any of those who were kidnapped alone.”
	“Who was first then? Are you wasting my time?” The elf scowled.
	Kal scowled right back, “They were already interviewed with the two DHIF agents present and we found nothing useful on their recounting."
	"I will be the judge of that, dwarf. My investigations are much more thorough than this DHIF and I will have everyone interviewed until I am satisfied," Desrosiers retorted.
	"Must we allow you to terrorize every single one of our beardlings? For an elf, not to mention a Frank, you–”
	“Cease, Master Spellbreaker,” Zucarius gestured for the two to take a seat. Percy and Yilandra did so nervously, “Lord Desrosiers,” The dean gestured, “I will call for the others. It is the weekend, most students and faculty are still sleeping,” He gestured to the darkness of the early morning outside, “Please do as you need.”
	"Very well. Both of you, relax your minds and drink this," The elf procured two vials from within his robes and handed them over.
	"What is it?" Percy asked cautiously.
	"It is a serum that will focus your thoughts and memories on my suggestions. It will allow me to direct you to the night you were taken and cease any inhibitions of doing so," Desrosiers explained as he cast a small circle onto the table beside him, "Drink, and I will look into your memories of that night."
After exchanging looks with one another, Yilandra and Percival looked to the three wizards who nodded and gestured for them to comply. The two did as they were told, drinking the vials in one go, "Ugh, that's vile…" Yilandra scoffed.
	"It is not meant for regular imbibing," Desrosiers sneered, waiting for the potions to take their effect. After a few moments the two seemed to go into a trance, and the elf looked satisfied.
	"Think back on the night you were taken by the Butcher," He coached them, his voice taking a more soothing tone as his magic began.
	Immediately the magic circle took form, splitting into two, showing everyone in the room the hazy memories from either perspective.
They were both inside a bar, drinking with one another and celebrating something. Desrosiers scoffed, "Move along, when were you taken?"
	Percival's vision was blurry and doubled while Yilandra's was only slightly clearer.
	"We were both drunk." They replied in unison, their voices monotone and tired.
	The elf rolled his eyes, "Neanderthals. What of the Butcher?"
	A dark shadow came over their sight, Percival's image clearing up as he quickly became sober.
	"He was upon us in seconds," Yilandra explained.
	"I tried to defend us, and though I had plenty of mana from the drinks, but I was intoxicated and fearful so my spells fizzled out," Said Percy. It was as they said, and soon both were laid out on the ground, their vision going dark.
	"I saw nothing useful," Xavos said. The others agreed. Desrosiers' frown deepened and he cocked his head slightly to the side, eyeing the two victims.
	"What happened when you came to?"
	"We were rescued–"
	"Non, non, non, what happened when the Butcher took you? You were brainwashed, non?"
	"Lord Desrosiers, they have no memories of that time," Zucarius stated, but the elf held up a hand and continued.
	"You came to, and he was there with you, was he not?"
	The two remained silent for a moment before nodding in unison. The image on the spell changed and revealed the white visage of the elephant skull, the eyes underneath glowing a sickly green directly at them. The two shivered in their seats, an overwhelming feeling of pain and fear taking hold of them. The Butcher was casting some kind of spell, but what exactly they could not tell.
	"What is that he is doing?" The elf questioned.
	"He is hurting us… enthralling us," They replied.
	"Did you ever see him without that mask?" He continued.
	"No…" The two answered, but Percival hesitated. Desrosiers bade him continue and the halfling covered his eyes.
	"I saw him, during our enthrallment, he was shriveled, a shell of his former self," He answered. When the image of the Ghillie Dhu came into view it was as the halfling said. Kal recoiled at the sight of it, a look of disgust on his face.
	"That will be all." The elf concluded, waving the two away. At once their trance was broken and they stumbled onto their feet, Xavos and Kal steadying them before they left, "Bring in the next case." Desrosiers ordered. Xavos saw a look, perhaps just a twinge of nervousness on the elf’s face as he prepared for the next group.

	Several students had been questioned in similar fashion, many of them providing little more than how they were captured, their memories lacking the information that Amon Desrosiers was looking for.
	"Bring in the next student," His voice was tired and annoyed, he had made it apparent that this was a waste of time on numerous occasions and even cursed the day he met Arthur Maxamillion under his breath. That he would owe the wizard some sort of favor was clearly beneath him as was evident of this so-called favor.
	“Ah, here we are,” Zucarius nodded as three students entered. The elf’s lips curled into a deep frown as he saw the three. A human, a demi-human beast woman, and a… thing in a gaudy golden mask. Was he a construct? It was angular with a silver beard and an immaculately carved helmet, “These are three of the students who chased the Butcher that night.”
	“And we did not start with them?” Lord Desrosiers scoffed.
	“They had other duties to attend to. Besides, you wanted to see everyone,” Spellbreaker grumbled, “Is that King Grak-Ferrond the fourth, Fredrik?”
	“It is, Master Spellbreaker,” The golden wizard bowed, “Master Holmit and Miss Angerdese helped me make it.”
	“Aye, it's well made, as expected from those two.”
	“Ahem,” The elf got their attention.
	“Ah, my apologies for fraternizing,” Fredrik stood at attention, “Lady Sohpia, Miss Carly, and Ser Fredrik at your service. Miss Suzie is here just to observe. She was not present during our scuffle with the Butcher.”
	The elf had not even noticed the diminutive gnome enter as well. There was already a glare on her face, “I see. Down this, and be quick about it,” The elf procured several more of his concoctions from his robe, and the three quickly obliged, taking their seats across from him. Once again the spell was cast and the three fell into a trance, Desrosiers' spell making three perspectives now.
	"The night you fought this Butcher, what happened?" He questioned. The image of the flaming, twisted tree came into view, the Butcher was clearest in Fredrik's eyes. A goblin had been grabbed and then tossed into a portal with a fifth figure chasing him in. The elf checked Carly’s sight to see her cowering behind her camera and then tried to move the viewing to Sophia. Desrosiers grimaced and flinched, breaking his concentration, “What on earth?” 
	"What is it?" Asked Zucarius.
	"There's nothing here," The elf replied angrily, "What trickery is this?" He asked Sophia, who shook her head.
	"My mother's doing," She answered, her trance breaking immediately.
	"Your mother? Who is this?" He demanded to know, standing over the white cat-witch.
	She sat up straight and took a deep breath, "My mother is Maxine Hamilton."
	"Of course she is." He grumbled irritably, having dealt with the mad black cat on numerous occasions. The entire IMA had if his memory served, "You are dismissed."
	"But–"
	"If I cannot get your unadulterated account then you are of no use to me. Anything can be said, and your story has been recorded by the DHIF already. Telling me what I already know is irrelevant, I have come to verify the claims and uncover the truth, whatever perils that may or may not include."
	"So be it,” Sophia stood and took to Suzie’s side, now realizing why the gnome was so on edge. She looked to the professors, both Xavos and Kal Spellbreaker who were stone faced in the elf's reasoning.
	“And this one,” He turned back to Carly. He could barely see what was happening in her vision. Spells were being flung back and forth and she was recording the entire thing, “So you will be the only useful one,” The elf sneered at Fredrik, standing in front of the golden metalmancer, "Tell me what happened after you fought the beast."
	Fredrik's vision turned to fire, the Butcher towering over him. He had landed a swift thrust into the beast's side, but it had cost him the victory. He was knocked aside, his mask landing in the mud below him. When he turned back he saw something strange, different and much more threatening than the fiend from before. This was a shadow, a being residing within the Butcher, it oozed out of him much like the black sludge and mud surrounding them. It rose up from the Butcher, its body misshapen, with arms long as the tree limbs around them. More black sludge dripped from his long claws, and though Fredrik could not make out his face he could see his eyes, vibrant, glowing, like fire threatening to burn through him they pierced his own. Before he could react he was enveloped in the sludge and his vision went dark.
	This interested the elf. It was not something anyone else had seen before, nor did they ever describe such a thing in the DHIF reports. He pondered over this info for a moment before he looked at Fredrik, "Was that the Butcher?" He asked the golden wizard.
	Fredrik took a deep breath before answering, "I don't know, but…"
	"But?"
	"I don't believe it was," He winced, his head aching as he tried to recall.
	"Who do you think it was?" Desrosiers pressed him. 
	Fredrik let out a groan, cupping his head in his hand, "I don't… know. It was only an instant."
	"Speak!" Desrosiers demanded.
	"Leave him alone!" Suzie butted her way in front of the elf, Sophia quickly joining her.
	"You're hurting him!"
	The elf scowled at the two, "Get out of my way! Do not interfere with my work!" He growled, moving them aside with a spell, "His pain is temporary, he will not remember it before long, but get in my way again and there will be consequences. If this truly is that evil…" He trailed off as his spell began to waver. A few beads of sweat formed on his forehead, “Then I must see everything there is to know!”
	"You've done enough! He doesn't know who it was, if you want him to guess then you don't need this magic, you're just causing him pain for no good reason!" Suzie shot back.
	The elf scoffed, "Very well, you've all run out of your usefulness here, away with you, and send in the next group. Zucarius."
	“Yes?” The dean tilted his head as the students quickly left.
	“Bring me everyone involved immediately. If Arthur and my intuition are correct, we need to see as much as we can,” There was a twinge of worry in the otherwise well composed elf’s voice. Headmaster Spellbreaker could even swear he saw the elf slightly tremble.
	“Understood. Help me draft some letters, Xavos.”

	Blud was quick as he hurried down the hall. His spellslinger jingled in its holster and he grabbed his slightly too large cowboy hat before making it to where he needed to be. Galahad, Miss Manus, and his sister, Rald, were already waiting, “Late again, knucklehead,” Rald berated, “Where were you?”
	“Looking for San, where else?” The goblin rubbed his forehead.
	“She is missing?” Miss Manus had a worried frown on her face.
	Blud was quick to shake his head, “No. Her housemates know she’s around, but she's locked herself in her room. She– She didn’t even come out and see me…”
	Out from the double doors came Sean and Harold, each nursing a headache and rubbing their temples, “Sean? Harold?” Miss Manus tilted her head as she saw their pain.
	“Hm?” Sean blinked hard. His robes were folded and hung over his arm, it was obvious that he had been sweating profusely just moments ago, “Forgive my lack of greeting, President Manus, I'm not feeling well after… that.”
	Harold nursed his head and groaned, “Morning,” Was all he could muster.
	Blud scoffed, “Is the questioning that brutal? I thought the DHIF was bad,” He smirked.
	“Cease, goblin,” Harold sneered, “And Loxley, keep your wits about you, that magic scrambles the mind,” He said to the duelist before stomping away.
	Sean rubbed his forehead again, “I need to go lie in the snow to cool off. Good day,” He took his leave just as quickly, leaving the four bewildered.
	Rald frowned, “I’ll still see you for lunch?” Sean quickly nodded, muttering about needing to hastily freshen up, “What was that all about?” The goblin woman wondered aloud.
	“Enter!” A voice inside called.
	The four steeled their resolve, “Good morning,” Miss Manus greeted as she entered. The fey witch bowed to the professors and dean. The goblin siblings gave little waves and Galahad’s eyes were quickly put on the elven visitor with a wary stare.
	“So what did you wanna know about that Butcher?” Blud asked plainly.
	“Everything,” The exacerbated elf answered as he sipped on dark elven wine. Rald hid from the owl’s intense gaze behind Galahad’s leg, “Sit. All of you,” The goblins were quick to comply with Manus behind them. The duelist folded his arms, “You were the one that was injured by the… Butcher?” Lord Amon’s lips curled downward into a scowl. A bead of sweat was on his brow, “Drink,” He ordered as he revealed four vials, each containing the potion. 
	Rald was obviously fidgety and nervous in the elf’s presence. She took one anyway. Blud grabbed another and Manus took the third. Galahad shook his head, “Uh, Seer, sir?”
	“It is Lord to you. Lord Amon.”
	“Well, the mind magic you intend to do won’t work on me. Don’t let me waste your special mix,” Galahad smiled sheepishly.
	“Why is that?” Lord Amon sighed wearily.
“Mind blocking spell,” The duelist answered.
“Drink it anyway, I am not in the business of taking people at their word,” The elf demanded. Galahad shrugged and quickly obliged, drinking the vial immediately. When the elf saw that his spell revealed nothing he clenched his teeth.
“Truly? You as well?” He turned away with a scowl, 
	“Who was the other?” Galahad wondered.
	Zucarius cleared his throat, “It was Sophia. I am sure you all know how her mother can be.”
	“Oh, how could I forget!” Rald uncorked the potion, “I’ve seen her on like, seven different reality shows. I think she’s been in a movie or two. She’s nuts,” The goblin laughed. 
	“Can we move this along?” The elf sighed.
	“What is this?” Blud asked as he uncorked the vial and sniffed it.
	“A suggestion potion. Like charm magic. It will allow my questioning to go much faster than without,” Lord Amon replied, clearly tired of having to explain this time and again. He prepared to cast the memory viewing spell once more. 
	As soon as the concoction touched Rald’s tongue, she spat it up, getting the azure ooze on her robes, “That’s disgusting!” She whined, shivering with tears forming in her eyes.
  Lord Amon's face twisted with anger, the sight of his potion wasted immediately infuriated him, “Get this wretched soul out of my sight! I will not work in these conditions!”
	“Rald, come over here,” Galahad beckoned her over to him. She quickly got down and scuttled to the duelist, standing beside his leg.
	“Moss eater,” She hissed at the elf. Headmaster Spellbreaker hid a smirk under his beard. Galahad knelt down and began using magic to remove the potion's stain from her clothes.
	Blud sighed and drank his own, “She never could drink the potions mom would make,” Miss Manus shivered herself as she downed the brew. 
	Soon, Blud slipped into the expected trance but Miss Manus’s nervous eyes still glanced about the room, “Now,” Lord Amon cleared his throat, “Close your eyes and listen to my voice. The night the two of you saw the Butcher, think back to it,” With his magicks, he invaded Blud’s thoughts. Blud was walking down a pathway on a cool and stormy night, “What is this?”
	“When I first saw it,” The goblin replied. The scene played out quickly. Blud smelled the creature as it approached. Blud watched from the bushes, terrified as the Butcher passed by and left the campus.
	“Interesting,” Zucarius stroked his beard, “And security did not take you seriously?”
	“Neither did my sister…”
	Lord Amon cleared his throat, “Skip past all of this. I want to see the night you were abducted.” 
“Right, the woods,” The group stomped through the mud and rain. Their trudging came to an end when they came face-to-face with the monster. It made Blud’s veins turn to ice, just the sight of it was enough to make him panic. Soon, Fredrik intervened and the group moved on. They were already a mess of struggling fighters. The portal came into view and Blud worked to draw out the Butcher, setting fire to the trees. This worked better than the elf had expected.
	“This was a Ghillie Dhu, correct?” Asked Amon, to which the three professors affirmed, “Strange. It seems to have retained some of its natural instincts to protect the forest,” He mused. 
	“It seems to have, though in all honesty my knowledge of fey is limited,” Zucarius replied, “And then what happened, Blud?”
	“Well, it grabbed me,” He shuddered as he thought about it. He fought with the beast, nearly destroying its face mask in the process. Soon he was tossed into the portal where he laid before Reccoa came charging through after him. Before long, the Butcher was upon them. Blud was first as Reccoa was brought low by the monster’s magic, “I saw it, I saw right into its evil mask,” Blud shuddered and very quickly his vision was cut. He cowered in his seat, holding his aching head in his hands.	
	“The goblin has shown me what I have already seen. How expected,” Lord Amon scowled, “And the one that has the information I need, cannot be easily read. Ma’am, please focus your mind, now. You are wasting my time.”
	Miss Manus’s eyes were shut tight. Anxiety and stress caused her to flitter through many unrelated thoughts, “You’re not gonna get anywhere like this,” Galahad said to the elf, “You should have known a charm based potion wouldn’t work on a fey," He admonished the Seer.
	"It has been a long day, you will understand if I get a little sloppy after sifting through the minds of hundreds of students, now if you would like to make yourself useful, you will assist me,” Desrosiers growled. 
	He bade Galahad sit, and the duelist took the seat next to his president and put a hand on her shoulder, “Breathe, Manus. Take long, deep breaths and focus on my voice. Pretend you are reading one of your books, it is one of those pre-cracking stories. I am there as well, can you imagine what I look like?” The fey witch nodded and placed a hand on his leg. In the vision Amon was conjuring, Galahad appeared in a set of casual clothes, “Is that how you picture me?” He playfully teased.
	“Stop it!” Manus whined, dissipating the illusion as she gave him a gentle slap on the leg.
	“Okay, okay. Close your eyes and focus again,” He instructed her, “Feeling calm now?”
	She inhaled deeply and sighed, “Yes.”
	“Good. Think of me again. Alright,” He took a deep breath and Manus copied it, “I need you to think of that night. Some of the younger students woke you up?”
	“I was already awake. I could feel something,” She replied. Amon raised a brow as the scene formed in his illusion. Three students pounded on the door of Manus’s dorm. They complained that Galahad attacked them and had gone out alone, citing an emergency. Miss Manus sent them to rouse Suzie and Fredrik. Soon, Manus was in the lobby of her house after a hazy jump. Suzie had arrived. A short conversation passed with Suzie lamenting the fact that Fredrik was missing. The two went out, only to see a small group already mobilizing into the woods. They followed, now realizing something was definitely wrong. 
	After another hazy jump forward, Miss Manus found herself in the woods surrounded by older students and professors. Brainwashed students laid in the mud and Galahad was fighting with the corrupted Ghillie Dhu. From here, it played out as Galahad expected, “You rushed over to us, right?”
	“Yes, I-I did,” The illusion was getting more and more hazy as the witch intervened. Amon shuddered as the Butcher’s form came into view. 
	“I need you to focus on it, Manus. Think about what happened. I know it's painful, but it wasn’t your fault,” He quietly urged her, “You stopped me. Then what?”
	“W-we argued,” The scene was replaying from her memory in the illusion, the vision was wavering heavily and the words were difficult to hear, “I-I do not want to think about it, Galahad.”
	Gently, the wizard took the fey woman’s cold hand in both of his, “Please. You have nothing to be afraid of here. What happened to me?”
	Miss Manus shook, three of her hands gripped Galahad’s fingers, offering her a small, yet warm comfort. She couldn’t speak out loud as the horrible scene played out in her mind. The vision was clear. Galahad taking a grievous strike to the shoulder before going down. The vision cut with Miss Manus shaking again. The trauma of all of it had come rushing back, despite making peace, the guilt wracked her soul. Galahad felt her body trembling as her transmutation magic coursed through her hands. The polymorphic magic started to seep into the room as the fey-witch held back tears. Galahad felt himself shudder, it felt like his insides were moving. Kal Spellbreaker shouted in the dwarven tongue and raised his staff high in the air. A bright blue light flashed and filled the room with a low level counterspell. Feeling the polymorph end, Galahad pulled Manus into a hug, “You’re doing great, Manus,” He whispered, “We’re almost done,” He urged.
	“What more?” She whimpered as she nestled into him. 
	“I need to know everything,” Lord Desrosiers barked, “No details left untold, lest I waste my time coming here again.”
	Galahad shot Amon a death glare as the elf began tapping his foot impatiently, “Breathe with me again. He just wants to see one more thing. Think of something happier now. You and I were in the infirmary, what did I look like?”
	Manus’ expression soured at the thought of the bedridden duelist, “Awful. You got hurt because of me again.”
	“I know. Think past that, no reason to dwell on it. What did you see of me?” Galahad asked.
	He appeared on a sterile white bed with a few splotches of blood staining them. His shirt had been removed and Rald was just wrapping up healing the wound in his stomach. 
	“This was a little over a month after the Butcher,” Galahad explained to the Seer.
Amon pursed his lips, “Why on Earth you waited so long to have this treated is beyond me, but I suppose it is advantageous for my purposes.”
	He looked back at the illusion. Percy was speaking with the few students who gathered around, but Miss Manus had tuned it all out. One by one, students and professor all left. First Percy, his students, then Blud, Rald, and Sean. Manus was left alone over Galahad who looked no better off than a corpse. The black sludge seemed to swirl and twist on his body, at least from Manus’s point of view, “You looked awful. I thought you may die within the month.”
	Galahad nodded, “I kinda felt it too. And then?”
	“We spoke for a time,” She replied. The fey woman could remember the dialogue they had and easily recalled how powerless she felt. Her mind turned to their chat about Galahad getting hurt for her sake, how the two quickly cleared up their misunderstanding, and her resolve to heal him. After the witch thought about how she healed him using her fey magic, Galahad nodded slowly, “Is there anything else?” Miss Manus asked, quickly dissipating her memories by thinking of her fuzzy slippers and how she yearned for their simple comfort.
	The two looked to the elf seer who was still looking deeply into the illusion, “Think on his wounds again,” He said without taking his eyes off his spell. Galahad gave Manus a nod and the fey-which struggled to make herself think on it again. After a few moments the image became clear, and again Amon could see the blackened, writhing wounds across Galahad’s body.  He studied them for a few moments, seemingly memorizing their look and nature before they were purged from Galahad’s body again. The elf fell deathly silent, his hand covering his mouth as he tried to process what he had seen. “It appears Arthur was not wrong in his assessment,” He murmured.
	“Need I do more?” Manus gasped, her head beginning to hurt.
	Galahad looked at Lord Amon who was already placing the memories into the nearly full crystal orb for evidence, “No, I think that’s all he needed. Good job,” The man gave her a small smile and brought her to her feet. She stumbled a little, two of her left hands nursing her headache while Galahad held her steady.
	“You two are adorable,” Rald swooned, “You’re going steady, right?”	
	“S-steady?” Manus gave her a nervous glance.
Galahad laughed and shook his head, “Just friends.”
	“You do seem a little closer than friends,” Blud smirked, “At least closer than San and I right now…”
	“Ahem,” Lord Amon looked to the dean and two master wizards as he placed the orb within a turquoise, mythril chain bag, “I will take my leave. This has been… enlightening, to be honest. Concerning, I admit. Arthur will be happy with this information– non… perhaps happy is the wrong word,” He suppressed a shudder, “Satisfied, more like, that he was correct. Have you considered a change in career, boy?” He asked, turning to Galahad, “Perhaps not as a Seer, but IMA could use more competent agents when it comes to these strange circumstances.”
	“I can’t deal with stuffy suits and boring bureaucrats, Lord Amon. I don’t think I could really do what I did for Manus here for just anyone. But I do appreciate your, uh, suggestion,” He gave the elf a small smile.
	“A Shame, really. So be it. Good day. Master Zucarius, Arthur or the IMA may contact you in the future so please be watching for scrolls,” Amon waved his staff and vanished in a puff of sparkles and lavender smelling smoke.
	“I thought he’d never leave,” Xavos huffed, “Will anything come of this?”
	“I am unsure,” Spellbreaker shook his head, “He was right Galahad, why did you not seek medical attention for your illness sooner?”
	The duelist shrugged, “I thought it would go away like every other sickness.”
	“President Manus,” Zucarius cleared his throat, “Please keep an eye on your duelist. It would not be appropriate for him to ignore an illness for an entire month again. I am glad to see you better, Mister Loxley.”
	“Understood,” The fey-woman nodded, “We have already had a chat about this, but I will do my best to keep him out of trouble. Shall we get lunch?”
	“I’d love that, you two got plans?” Galahad asked the goblins.
	Rald nodded, “Of course I do! It's Sunday and I can finally spend all day with Sean!”
	Blud stuck his tongue out, “Going home. I’ve got video games to play.”
	“Well, have fun you two,” Miss Manus gave them a smile before the four left after bidding farewell to the professors.
	Dean Zucarius’s weary body fell into a chair, making Xavos rush to his side, “Are you well, friend?”
	“It has been a long morning, is all,” The Dean replied and rubbed his forehead.
	Kal Spellbreaker nodded, “Aye. Need a drink, Ilgorr? Well– Perhaps just the day off?”
	“Yes, that would do. And… I suppose I could have a drink or four.”
	Xavos nodded, “That’s the spirit, sir. Let us all retire to somewhere cozier than our offices.”

. . . . .

	Wanda’s warm body steamed as snow fell upon her. The dark had come much faster than expected. It was near the end of her shift, and it couldn’t come fast enough as she counted the minutes until clock out. She lacked the night vision that her gargoyle subordinate used to patrol the grounds, making it a little difficult with the thick darkness surrounding her. On top of that, a light blizzard was rolling in and the salamander woman was wrapped in many near useless layers. The crunching of snow made her turn, her flashlight shining at nothing but the falling, glimmering snow. The wind howled, biting her long, scaled ears with an awful chill. Her cheeks were rosy and her red hair was tied and beneath a wool cap that didn’t seem to warm her up at all. Her body shivered violently, “Damn warming runes,” She swore at the air as she opened up her coat. A large, curving rune was on the breast pocket of her undercoat had gone dark, “Those enchanters,” She growled, “Amaetuer hour. This cold is going to kill me! I’m gonna get my money back tomorrow,” She told herself. The heat her body exuded barely stayed long enough to warm her up, even with the four thin layers of clothes and coats.
	Wanda zipped her jacket back up and rested a hand on the sword at her hip. She wished the transmutationists would use their magic for good and change the weather to something a little more tropical for the campus. The lizard woman’s flashlight flickered, making her strike it to reseat the batteries, “Magic don’t work. Tech don’t work. I need a vacation, oh Lord,” She prayed, “Or at least something to make my heart pound,” Her mind turned to her warm, swampy Louisiana home. A pot of hot jambalaya, the humid summer air drifting in through the window, mom’s special lemonade, and the family pet gator. She missed it all.
	More crunching of the snow in the darkness made her slap the flashlight another time, this time it brought the light back. She only caught a glimpse of it, a shadowy face with reflective eyes. Something burned beneath the eyes, making the lizard woman’s mind race as she tried to think what hellish monster this could be, “H-Hey!” She shouted, “Stop!” 
	The cloaked figure darted into the snow, making it incredibly difficult for the lizard woman’s eyes to follow them. Her flashlight flickered again, the panting of the creature was barely audible between the billowing bouts of wind. As the flashlight came back, Wanda’s heart stopped as she saw the monster, now on all fours, run out into the darkness of the woods. It shook her to the core, seeing such a freakish form of movement. Although her duty was to chase the creature, the security guard turned tail and ran. There was no way she'd be able to take whatever it was in this weather! First it was a few steps backwards, still scanning the snowstorm for where it had gone. Then she sidestepped, picking up the pace before she turned and dashed away, her red tail dragging through the frigid frost as she rushed to the professor’s offices.

	Zucarius watched the snowfall outside of his dimly lit office. Candles burned, each one nearly at the end of their wick. The dean sighed deeply, he was looking forward to resting his weary head. No issues, beyond a spat between houses, had come up in nearly two months. Perhaps now he would not have to exert himself with his oneiromancy, illusions, and divinations. He had reached deep into his mana pools over the previous months to keep the students safe. Not even the nightwatch had found anything out of the ordinary during these winter months, “Perhaps I can put my feet up tonight and watch my show?” Zucarius asked himself aloud with a bemused smirk, “My DVR is almost full and I need to get through it. Sundered History,” He sighed as he recalled the previous episodes, “A historical recounting of all pre-cracking history,” He chuckled as he quoted the tagline to himself. He was eager to learn more about the Roman empire. 
	The dean began to pack his bags. Papers and tomes were all placed within the deep storage of his brown leather briefcase. At the same time he closed the latches on the case, his office door flew open, slamming against the door stop. Zucarius could feel himself deflate as he heard the panicked gasping for air of his uninvited guest, “Zucarius…” Wanda shambled into the room, peeling the steaming coats from her body.
	“What is it? What is wrong?” The wizened old man asked, flicking his wrist to hang up her coats and dry them.
	“These flashlights are ass! My coat’s heating rune stopped working! I’m freezing my butt off out here!” She started complaining and stomping back and forth across the office.
	“Miss Allstaff.”
“I couldn’t even get a good look at it! I couldn’t chase it! All my equipment is failing! I’m gonna tear the head off of the enchanting professor that allowed a student to sell this piece of junk!” 
	“Wanda.”
“WHAT!?” She shouted. Her body shook and her pupils were massive. She was about to peel her snowpants off as well.
	“Here, dear,” Zucarius carefully took her clawed and scaled hand in his. With the utterance of a few magic words, the lizard woman’s emotions immediately came under control, “Better?” 
	She nodded and slowly collapsed, causing the dean to use another spell to conjure something soft for her to land on, a beanbag chair that exploded at the seams as Wanda dropped and sank into it.
	“Oh, yeah. I need a potion for that spell.”
	“Now, Miss Allstaff. Please tell me what you saw.”
	She lurched up from the ruined chair and looked up at the dean, “I didn’t get a good look. It had these freaky reflective eyes and was prowling around the south building. Near the younger students’ dorm.”
	“And?”
	“There was some fire, coming from a maw I could barely see! Then my flashlight died again and I saw it– it– sc– scurrying around on four legs! It dropped down and ran like a dog! It had to be a hellhound or… or something!” She shuddered at the thought.
	“I see…” Zucarius returned to his desk.
	“What do we do? More curfews? That helped with the Butcher,” Wanda paced again.
	“We cannot be so hasty.”
	“Hasty? If students vanish again, those critics will start saying we’re experimenting on our student body!” Wanda cried.
	With the shaking of his head, Zucarius brought out ten pieces of parchment. He laid out nine pens and took the tenth in his hand. Each of the nine pens followed along as he wrote a letter. Ten exact copies that he signed carefully, “They will criticize us just as much if we act too hastily. There is no winning here. I am asking the presidents or acting leaders of each house to do a headcount,” He wrote two more by hand and rolled them up, “The boarding school will be checked as well and we will make sure every professor and employee is accounted for. Until we know this is a problem, we will not act beyond our current duties of patrolling and keeping students safe. And Wanda, it's not a hellhound, we'd know if it was.”
	“What else could it be?”
	The dean could only stroke his chin, “It does not sound like any monster I have ever heard of. I will have someone check the library for potential monsters. We will act accordingly, especially if sightings keep up.”
	Wanda grit her teeth. She nodded, “I will tell my guards to keep their eyes open.”
	“Good. Miss Allstaff, please get some rest,” He offered her a small smile as he magically sent off each scroll, “I will continue using my oneiromancy to watch the grounds at night.”
	“Oneiromancy?” The lizard woman gave him an incredulous look.
	He nodded, “Dream magic. I can control my magical duplicates in my sleep this way.”
	“Ah. Sure,” She nodded slowly, “Good idea.”
Zucarius nodded and prepared his magic for the night, “Let us keep each other updated as well.”
	“Yeah,” Wanda nodded and took her coats, “Night.”
	“Good night to you as well,” Zucarius sighed as he was left alone in his cold office. It would be another restless night of surveying for the old dean.

. . . . .


	Reccoa hummed to herself. The night was frigid and snowy. She held her book close to her chest before checking to see if she was being afforded the privacy she desired. Her few housemates were starting to wonder why she was skipping class. Illness, she had told them. A bout of sickness like what Galahad felt. She had fought the Butcher and had been in the fey realm as a prisoner as well, of course, so no one questioned her when she had fibbed about it. She felt giddy, excited even. She opened her book and set it aside, carefully setting it atop a rock as she procured the candles. They were all red and yellow, all of different heights.
	“Reccoa…” Her beetle familiar fluttered about in the cold air.
	“Hush. I will only be a moment,” She replied in her native tongue. Special, mana infused ink was brushed onto the snow to create a diagram. To her it looked like the sun with twelve equidistant little lines stemming from the circular middle. Within the circle was a crescent moon and a few stars next to it. The candles were set out and lit along the sun and stars. The red candles on the sun and stars and the yellow ones on the moon, “Magic symbols,” She excitedly whispered to herself. She could feel a power– a living presence even as she began to light the candles. Sitting amongst the snow and markings, Reccoa took the book in her hands and began to chant the magical incantation. The words were quiet at first, but as the blizzard kicked up so did her volume. The fires of the candles burned bright, warmth and a feeling of strength started to enter Reccoa’s body and soul. She sighed deeply with a smile on her face. The magical ritual continued, aetheric winds swept up snow and snuffed the candles out as more and more energy entered Reccoa’s form. The trees shook, the clouds rumbled, and a sharp pain suddenly made the sorceress gasp. Then the magic ceased all at once. The forest was still, the snow fell, the ink was gone, and the candles had been strewn about, most of their magical wax vanishing with the spell. The sectare woman laid in the snow, slowly catching her breath.
	“Are you alright?” The beetle asked.
	Reccoa nodded, “I feel stronger,” She whispered and stood while staring at her chiton covered hands. She clenched her fists and fluttering sparks of flames shot out between her fingers. She snarled and threw a punch at the air, shooting out a blast of flame, flash melting the snow in front of her. She grinned and threw more fire in new ways. A beam of flame from her hands, bursts from her fists, streams of fire came from her kicks, and even a blast as she leapt into the air, “New fires and flames,” She whispered in awe.
“Hey!” A light shined on the sorceress. From the blizzard came the night watch, Catherine. She looked at the sectare woman who was frozen like a deer in the headlights, “What are you doing out here this late? I know the curfew is up, but you should be asleep,” The gargoyle looked around, “The storm is getting worse.”
	“Y-yessums,” Reccoa bowed apologetically and began to scoop up her materials, hiding the book from the gargoyle. As soon as she had everything, she let the officer lead her back to campus.
	“What are you doing out here? Playing with fire?” Catherine teased.
	“Prac– Prat– Study,” She replied, “I use lots of fire.”
	“I see,” Catherine smirked and pulled her coat tighter around her large frame as the two stepped into the bulk of the storm across the campus, “Everyone on campus is real jumpy. I think Wanda saw you wandering into the woods earlier and got spooked! Can you imagine that? That old war hero scared by a girl in the woods?” The gargoyle used her stony wings like a coat as she chuckled to herself, “I guess it is kinda scary if you see a girl playing with fire in the woods at night. No offense,” Reccoa nodded along, which seemed to satisfy the gargoyle, "Go get some sleep and don’t burn anything down, alright?”
	“Yessums, lady,” Reccoa bowed again and hurried to her dorm building. She sighed with relief as she entered the magical warmth. She felt warm within and without. Up the stairs she went before going into her room.
	“Now will you rest?” Hiirogami sighed deeply and sleepily.
	“Yup!” The sectare nodded and quickly changed into her pajamas, “Good night!” Reccoa laid out her messy bedroom and snuggled into her thick comforter.
	Hiirogami found somewhere to sleep, glad to finally see Reccoa happy. Still, an odd twinge in his head made him nervous, maybe it was the fact Reccoa was skipping lessons for this ambition of hers? It didn't seem like it, but the beetle could not do anything about that unless she actually listened to him. A worry for tomorrow he decided.
	

Chapter 24