CHAPTER 20: THE PHOENIX

The torrent of ice roared down the hallway like a freezing avalanche, jagged shards of magic crystalizing in the air as they tore towards Noah and Arlo. Noah’s eyes widened, frozen for a heartbeat.

Then Arlo moved.

He stepped forward without hesitation, as if he intended to take the full force of the spell. His shoulders squared, chin raised. Calm.

Noah’s hand shot out, but it was too late.

Fwoosh!

A sudden flap of cloth echoed in the hallway.

Then a flash of fire lit the space.

The torrent of ice didn’t explode. It evaporated.

The magic burned away in a single, bright sweep, turning to steam that hissed into the air and vanished in seconds.

Standing between them and the attacker was a tall figure in black and gold robes, firelight flickering along the edges of her coat.

Professor Cecilia.

Her gaze was burning gold, locked on the older student. Her posture was still, but the heat radiating from her presence made the air feel heavy.

The previously confident older student flinched, the smirk on his face disappearing faster than water in a desert.

He adjusted his glasses quickly, trying to smooth his expression.

"I— I can explain." He stammered. "It was a misunderstanding. One of the summoned heroes... he was attacking another student, and I thought..."

Cecilia’s voice resounded in the air, cold. "Leo Hargreaves."

The hallway went quiet again.

"You will report to the disciplinary hall after your last class tomorrow. You know the academy’s law regarding upperclassmen engaging first years. Your year status does not give you the right to strike them."

The older student, Leo’s, mouth opened, but nothing came out. He swallowed, nodded, and turned stiffly. He walked away without another word, his retreat quiet but swift.

Professor Cecilia exhaled through her nose and turned slowly to face Noah and Arlo.

Her eyes narrowed.

Then, she walked past them, toward Damien’s burned and broken body.

She knelt beside him and extended her hand, palm glowing with a bright, controlled mix of light and fire magic.

Warm golden energy poured into Damien’s body. His skin began to knit back together, slowly, but precisely. The twisted tissue unwound. The cracks and burns healed. His breath evened.

In seconds, Damien looked as though he had merely passed out from exhaustion, every evidence of the F-rank fireball gone.

She stood and, without effort, lifted him into her arms.

Then she turned back to Noah, her face expressionless.

"For using an attack that inflicted near-permanent damage to a fellow student," she said, voice cool and even, "you will report to me directly after classes tomorrow."

Noah nodded once. "Understood, Professor."

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her robe trailing behind her, Damien limp in her arms.

Only when she disappeared down the stairs did Arlo exhale and lean against the wall.

"Well," he said, grinning, "I thought she was going to roast you."

Noah raised an eyebrow. "That was her being lenient?"

"Very." Arlo said. "She’s not cruel, but she doesn’t take rule-breaking lightly. A lot of students try to stay off her radar."

Noah glanced in the direction she had gone, brows drawing together. "She’s strong."

Arlo nodded. "Very. That phoenix isn’t just for show."

Noah looked over. "Phoenix?"

Arlo pushed off the wall, stretching his arms. "Professor Cecilia’s merged beast. A Phoenix. Powerful as hell. And rare."

He paused, then added, "You probably don’t know her story."

Noah stayed quiet.

Arlo lowered his voice slightly, his usual grin tinged with something more serious. "She’s the illegitimate sister of King Cillian. Same blood, different mother."

Noah’s eyes widened as Arlo continued.

"Politics being what they are, they stuck her here, at the academy, as a form of house arrest. She’s been here since her first year as a student, and now she’s a teacher."

Noah turned toward the stairwell, eyes narrowing. "So she’s locked in a cage, too."

Arlo shrugged. "Golden cage, maybe. But yeah."

Noah said nothing, then turned back toward his broken room.

What remained of his door hung in pieces. His bed was overturned, and scrolls were scattered all across the floor.

Arlo followed him.

As Noah stepped inside, Arlo lingered in the doorway.

"Why did you step forward, by the way?" Noah asked, looking back at him. "It wasn’t as if you could’ve blocked that ice spell earlier, right?"

"Let’s just say I have a few tricks." Arlo said casually. "Want to see one?"

He raised his hand, activating a skill with a snap of his fingers.

Noah’s eyes widened as the room around him moved in reverse.

The bed flipped upright. The scattered scrolls flew back into their stacks. The ink bottle returned to its place. Even the broken pieces of the door lifted off the floor and slotted back together, wood repairing with a faint shimmer of light.

In seconds, everything was whole.

Noah stared.

He turned sharply. "What rank was that skill?"

Arlo laughed, already walking away. "That’s a secret."

He raised a hand over his shoulder. "Night, Noah. See you tomorrow."

Noah watched him disappear up the stairwell to the floor above.

For the first time since arriving, he wasn’t sure who was watching who.

And as he looked back at the perfectly restored room, one thing became clear.

Arlo wasn’t just clever. He was dangerous. And he might be hiding something, just like Noah.

[][][][][]

Noah woke up feeling like he’d been hit by a wagon.

His back ached, his arms were sore, and his jaw still throbbed faintly from where he’d slammed into the hallway floor the night before. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and turned slightly, feeling something hard pressing against his palm.

The B-rank spell token.

He’d slept with it clutched tightly in his hand, tucked beneath his pillow like a lifeline. It was still there, the metal cool and reassuring.

He exhaled, pushing himself upright with a quiet groan. At least, the whole ordeal had netted him gold coins he could spend on the seventh day, when they were free to go to town.

After a long bath and a fresh uniform, he stepped out of his room, locking the door behind him. The early morning light filtered in through the narrow hallway windows, casting long shadows on the floor.

He had barely made it to the first landing when a familiar voice greeted him.

"Morning, room 207."

Noah looked up.

Arlo stood by the stairwell, leaning against the banister with a lopsided grin and a new blindfold, this one forest green, with a silver thread stitched faintly along the edges.

"Do you maybe have a whole trunk of blindfolds or something?" Noah muttered.

Arlo laughed. "Gotta keep it fresh."

They started walking side by side, boots tapping lightly against the stone steps as they descended the building for their journey to the cafeteria for breakfast.

Arlo stretched his arms lazily behind his head. "So, what’s the plan today?"

Noah rolled his shoulders. "Practical Magic and Enchantments. Those are the only classes we have today."

Arlo gave a theatrical sigh. "I meant your real plan."

Noah glanced sideways. "What real plan?"

"The duel, of course." Arlo said, grinning wider. "You didn’t forget your little appointment with Ben Stanley, did you?"

Noah’s gaze turned forward again.

"I haven’t forgotten."