#18 Purple Magic

Rowyn POV

“This one looks ancient as fuck,” I muttered, dragging a dusty, leather bound beast of a book towards me. The cover had a silver sigil that pulsed faintly, like it was breathing.

Kyren leaned over. “It’s humming.”

“No shit,” I said, flipping it open.

Aster whistled low. “Uh… Rowyn? That page is glowing.”

Yeah. No kidding. The script wrote itself as we watched, ink blooming across the yellowed parchment like spilled wine.

And then it spoke.

Not out loud, but straight into my damn bones.

When blood of god and shadow meet,

A star shall burn where none should be.

The center born of ruin and flame,

Will wear the title others shame.

Bound by four with threads divine,

They’ll stitch the veil and bend all time.

The pentacle shall rise once more,

To break the chains the gods once wore.

With ash and fire and sacred breath,

She walks the path of life through death.

She’ll bring the lost, the damned, the old,

And gods shall kneel to powers bold.

“NOPE,” I snapped, slamming the book shut so hard a puff of glittery dust exploded in my face. I coughed. “No the fuck thank you. That’s enough prophecy for one lifetime.”

Kyren gaped. “Rowyn…”

“Don’t.” I wagged a finger. “Don’t you dare say it.”

Aster blinked slowly. “It literally said the pentacle shall rise once more.”

“And she will bring back the gods,” Kyren added.

“AND WE ARE DONE HERE,” I shouted, shooting to my feet so fast my chair flew backward. “I need food. Like, now. I was gonna eat my feelings before my brain fell out of my ears.”

They didn’t argue. Five minutes later, I was face deep in carbs like a feral little goblin.

Mac and cheese? Gone. Cinnamon rolls? Decimated. Croissants? Ripped apart with zero remorse. There was a smear of jelly on my cheek and I could not have given less of a fuck.

Aster slid a brownie onto my tray. “Mood?”

“Don’t try to fix me with chocolate,” I muttered through a mouthful. “Actually, yes, do. Feed me like one of those anxiety horses.”

Kyren laughed and poured me a glass of apple cider. “So… tomorrow.”

I groaned. “Ugh. Right. The godblood test. Can’t wait to be outed like a mystical Pokémon in front of the entire university.”

Aster leaned back, licking frosting off his thumb. “No classes all day. We report to the Great Hall at 10 a.m. sharp. Everyone goes in alphabetically. One by one.”

I squinted at him. “What happens in there?”

Kyren answered, “You drop a single drop of blood into the Chalice of Revelation. It flares with your divine bloodline color and reveals your primary magic.”

“Flares?” I repeated. “Like a firework?”

“More like a magical DNA reveal,” Aster said. “Think ‘ancestry dot doom.’”

I groaned again and rested my forehead on the table. “So they will know if I was descended from a dead god, a demon, or literal chaos itself?”

Kyren grinned. “Basically.”

“Fabulous.”

We dragged our sugared up asses to Spellcasting, stomachs full, brains fried, and nerves simmering under the surface. I swore my hands were still shaking from that damn prophecy.

But if tomorrow I found out I was actually the long lost heir to some apocalyptic divine murder cult?

I might just start day drinking.

We slumped into our seats in Spellcasting just as the final bell rang, and already I wanted to crawl back into a carb coma and nap until graduation. But nope. Time for more fun with freaky professors.

Professor Dravik Thornhall stood at the front of the room, his ,greasy hair slicked back like he’d just stepped out of a discount vampire movie, his robes rumpled and stained with something I prayed wasn’t soup. Or blood. Honestly, could’ve been either.

“Today,” he said with a slither of a smile, “we began the most sacred practice of spellcasting, connecting with your core magic.”

He actually licked his lips. Ugh. I visibly shuddered. Aster leaned over and muttered, “Ten bucks saya he has a collection of enchanted toenails in his office.”

Kyren grunted. “I'm pretty sure he bathes in disappointment and Axe body spray.”

I snorted so loud Thornhall glanced our way, his eyes beady and narrowed. He started pacing.

“Magic,” he droned, “can not be forced. It has to be welcomed. It is not a pet, nor a tool. It is an extension of your soul. If you attempt to dominate it, it will rebel.”

Row by row, everyone began closing their eyes as he continued.

“Bare feet in nature, grounding into the earth, breath steady. You must feel your center. Your truth. Your thread of power. Only when you merge with it will it obey.”

Okay… that didn’t sound totally dumb. I shut my eyes and let out a slow breath. My feet weren’t bare, but my brain was fried enough to try anything once.

I focused inward. Darkness. Quiet. And then....there it was.

Boom. Deep inside me, pulsing like a heartbeat, was a swirling ball of violet energy. Big. Massive. Like it’d been caged too long and was finally being acknowledged.

“Holy shit,” I whispered under my breath.

My fingers twitched as I mentally reached toward it. I didn’t grab. I didn’t command. I touched it. And then I merged.

A sharp inhale escaped me as my body aligned with something ancient and wild and mine.

Suddenly...snap. Click. It all made sense. My breath steadied, my pulse calmed, and for the first time since stepping foot in this place, I didn’t feel like a walking panic attack.

I felt… whole. Zzzap. Purple sparks crackled at my fingertips and I yelped in surprise. “Ow, what the fuck?!”

Thornhall damn near teleported across the room. “Yes, yes! Look, everyone! Miss Vale has connected!”

He leaned over me, his eyes gleaming. “Purple. How fascinating.”

I jerked my hands away like his breath might melt my skin. “Personal space, dude.”

He hummed creepily and scribbled something on the parchment on his desk. Probably writing: Subject: Purple witch girl. Do not approach without garlic.

The rest of class blurred into fumbling attempts to summon sparks while Thornhall kept sneaking glances at me like he wanted to bottle my sweat for a potion.

Gross. When the bell rang, I was on my feet and out the door like it was a jailbreak. Kyren and Aster caught up immediately, their nymphs flitting ahead like little spark powered gremlins.

“Rowyn,” Aster said gently, “are you okay? That looked intense.”

“Yeah, are you hurt?” Kyren asked, glancing at my hands.

I shook my head, trying not to freak. “No. Just… holy shit, guys. That felt like… like something inside me just snapped into place. And now I’ve got purple lightning hands and some crusty spell creeper writing my name in a death journal.”

Kyren snorted. “Okay but also badass?”

“Very X-Men vibes,” Aster added. “Except, you know, with more eye twitching.”

I laughed, but it came out shaky. “Listen. I need a minute, okay? Like, to not be around people for a second. I need to… I don’t know… breathe.”

They exchanged a look, then nodded. “Got it,” Kyren said. “We’ll give you space.”

“Yell if you explode,” Aster added helpfully.

I managed a smile before turning and practically sprinting back to my room. The moment the door shut behind me, I slid down it and collapsed on the floor in a heap of tangled thoughts and frayed emotions.

“What the actual fuck is my life,” I whispered to myself.

Purple magic. Creepy teachers. Freaking prophecies. And now… this overwhelming, buzzing power inside me that I didn’t understand.

I stared at my fingers, which still tingled faintly.

“Cool,” I muttered. “I was officially the main character in a magical trauma novel.”

No reply. No spark. No sign.

Just the quiet hum of my room.

And the storm building in my soul.