#8 Giggles & Gossip

Rowyn POV

I should’ve known the last class of the day would be cursed.

The second I walked into Spellcasting: Channeling & Control, I knew we were in for it. The classroom smelled like burnt sage and disappointment. And the moment the professor turned to face us, I damn near turned right back around.

He was tall, thin, and draped in dull brown robes that looked like they hadn’t seen soap since the last celestial alignment. His smile was wrong, all teeth and no warmth. His eyes flicked over the room like a predator sniffing out fresh meat, and when his gaze landed on the girls? Yeah. Leering was the only word for it.

When he shook my hand at the door, I damn near puked. His skin was cold and clammy. His magic, if you could even call that aura magic, felt like grease and rot under my skin. My whole body shivered.

“Professor Thornhall,” he sneered, then added with no fucking charm at all, “Welcome to the real work, Miss…?”

“Rowyn,” I muttered, already pulling my hand away and wiping it on my skirt like it had caught something contagious. Aster and I made a beeline for the back row, of course, ending up right behind Seraphina and her matching evil Barbie dolls. Professor Thornhall flicked his fingers and magic sizzled across the blackboard. His name and the class title wrote themselves in glowing runes.

Professor Dravik Thornhall Spellcasting: Channeling & Control

“Let’s not pretend this is going to be fun,” he snapped, voice like broken glass. “Most of you won’t be able to cast a single spell for months. If ever.”

The room fell silent. A few kids looked down like they'd just gotten personally slapped. Not Seraphina, of course. She raised her manicured hand with a smug grin.

“I can cast a light spell, Professor.”

He raised a brow like he wasn’t expecting anything worth seeing. “Please, Miss Volarix. Enlighten us.”

Of course she stood with the haughtiness of someone who’s never heard the word ‘humble’ in her life. A small glowing orb flickered to life in her palm. The room murmured, impressed. Even I couldn’t lie, it was smooth.

Thornhall clapped once. “Enough.” The light vanished. Seraphina sat, preening.

“Magic,” he began, “comes from the gods. Thirteen gods. Thirteen types. Every godblood inherits potential from one. Maybe two. Rarely, three. But each discipline is distinct, and most of you will be lucky to master even one.” He waved a hand and flames appeared midair, forming a flickering sigil.

Ignisar – God of Fire

Bloodline Name: Ignisborn

Traits: volatile temper, enhanced strength, fire conjuration, immunity to flame

Signature Magic: combustion spells, wildfire manipulation, soul heat channeling

Trial Weakness: cannot survive underwater realms without aid

He paced, slow and methodical. “Not all godbloods can wield the magic of their ancestors. Some can't wield any at all. But occasionally… rumors rise.” His eyes glinted. “Of a fourteenth bloodline. A hidden line, descended from the God Killer. Said to wield all thirteen disciplines.” He grinned like the idea made his sick little heart flutter. “What a delight that would be. A student like that…” He licked his lips. “Would make history.”

My brain buzzed. Magic sparking just under my skin. My fingers twitched, aching for a spell I didn’t even know. Nope. Shaking that shit off. Not going down that rabbit hole right now. The rest of class was a blur of fire theories, magical flow channels, and a whole lot of “you’re probably not good enough” commentary from Thornhall.

When the bell rang at 2:30, I practically leapt from my seat like the place was on fire. We were freeeee.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” I muttered to Aster. We were barely into the hallway when I asked, “Wanna come to my room?”

Aster grinned. “Hell yeah.”

I snapped my fingers. “Thistle!”

With a pop of sparkle and sass, my little forest nymph materialized beside me.

Aster gasped. “Wait...you have a nymph?!” I rubbed the back of my neck, flushing.

“Yeah… Zephyr said only royal fae get them. I’ve been keeping her hidden so people leave me alone.”

Aster laughed. “Well hells bells! You’re special as fuck, aren’t you?”

We giggled like two witches who just spiked the punch and followed Thistle down the shifting hallway. When we reached the third floor, Aster paused. “Wait. This is your floor?”

“Yup.”

Her brows shot up. “You’re up here with the nobles and royals?”

I shrugged. “I have no clue. This is just where they dumped me.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Something’s off about you in the best way.”

I smirked. “Wait till you see my room.” I threw open the door with a flourish. Aster walked in and her jaw dropped. “Holy shit, Rowyn… I’ve never seen anything like this.” The enchanted stained glass windows cast kaleidoscopic light across the marble floors. Floating books drifted gently near the ceiling, and a plush velvet chaise shimmered in the corner.

It looked like some ethereal royal sorceress lived here. The lights flickered gently. I giggled. “Vaerion says hi.” Aster blinked. “Vaerion… Where have I heard that name before?”

I shrugged and flopped on the bed, patting the space beside me. “Come on. Let’s snack, gossip, and pretend we’re not stuck in a school full of power hungry fae, creepy professors, and emotionally constipated pretty boys.”

Aster dropped her bag and cackled, “Best. Plan. Ever.” I flopped onto the bed and stretched like a damn cat in a sunbeam, satisfied to be off my feet for the first time all day. Aster wandered the room, touching everything like it might disappear if she blinked too hard. “Okay, but real talk,” she said, spinning slowly. “This is the coolest room I’ve ever seen.”

I reached for my notebook on the bedside table, flipping it open out of habit, and froze. Right there, scrawled across the fresh page in iridescent ink, was a brand new message:

“Thank you for being kind to me today. I like your friend.” -Vaerion

I sat up straight. “Holy shit.”

Aster turned. “What?”

I shoved the notebook at her, eyes wide. “Vaerion left me a message. Look!”

She read it, her pink brows shooting up. “You talk to your room?”

I grinned. “Apparently! I was nice to it earlier, just thanked it for the cozy vibe… and now it gives me whatever I want!”

Aster clapped her hands. “Ooooh my gods. Can I try?!”

“Hell yes you can. Go on, ask!” The enchanted lights overhead flickered like they were wiggling with excitement. Aster shut her eyes dramatically. “Okay… Vaerion, can we please have a large plate of nachos and some Coke to drink, a bunch of super fluffy pillows, and matching jammies for a sleepover?”

I snorted. “Very specific.”

She smirked. “Manifesting, bitch.”

The room went completely silent for a beat, and then I gasped so hard I choked on air. When Aster opened her eyes, she blinked like she’d just walked into a fever dream. A round table had appeared by the fireplace, loaded with a nacho bar. I’m talking every topping you could imagine. Salsa. Guac. Jalapeños. Piled high. And in the center? A. Fucking. Nacho. Cheese. Fountain.

“OH MY STARS,” Aster shrieked, doubling over in laughter. There were giant fluffy beanbags. A huge shared blanket nest. A bowl of popcorn so big it could smother a toddler. Three sets of the cutest matching pajamas, soft purple with stars and moons, even little eye masks.

“This is the best thing ever! Thank you, Vaerion!!” Aster shouted to the ceiling. The lights flickered again, warm and happy. I plopped down beside her and snagged a nacho. “Damn. This room might be my favorite person now.” Aster wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and grabbed a Coke. “Same. We should never leave.” We giggled like absolute maniacs, shoving nachos into our faces like the feral girls we were at heart.

After a while, I asked, “Hey, do you need any clothes or anything? I’ve got space. The room can probably help.”

She waved me off. “Nah, I’m good. But we will need dresses for the House Selection Ceremony this Friday.”

I blinked. “The fucking what?”

Aster’s brown eyes went wide. “Wait. You don’t know?”

I narrowed my gaze. “Obviously not, Aster. You think someone with a half burned duffel bag from a gross dump knows shit about fae Hogwarts traditions?”

She winced. “Fair. Okay, so like....it’s kinda like a magical sorting ceremony, but you pick your house through a test, and the house also has to accept you back. There’s five total. And it’s a whole event. Everyone dresses up. There’s enchantments, projections, fire, drama. The works.”

“Why do I feel like this is going to be fucking dramatic?” I muttered.

“Because it is,” she said, sipping her Coke. “Especially for godbloods.”

I groaned, face planting into a pillow. Vaerion twinkled the lights above us like a damn laugh track.