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I demonstrated a few simple adjustments, careful to stick to basics. Nothing that would trigger the worse headaches that came with advanced portal work.

Even after years of therapy, my magic was still unstable. The treatments helped—they had to, or my portals would be completely unpredictable by now—but lately I needed more sessions to maintain the same control. Uncle said that was normal, that power like mine required constant maintenance. But like everything else with him, it came with a cost, but at least this pain served a purpose.

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up with understanding. “That’s why everyone keeps talking about clear intentions.”

“Exactly.” The throbbing in my temples intensified. “The same idea probably works with your necromancy, though in a different way.”

We spent the next hour breaking down the basics, finding simple ways to understand what the textbooks made overly complicated. When she asked about my portals, Wisp’s distress made my head spike with pain.

“That’s… different,” I said carefully, closing the demonstration portal. Its edges had grown almost black. “Family magic. We should focus on the basics for now.”

Scout and Wisp had settled on the window ledge, quietly communicating in the way familiars did—more instinct than language.

It wasn’t the interaction that caught my eye, though—it was the small, fraying black ribbon tied neatly around Scout’s neck. A crooked little bow tie. Handmade. Thoughtful.

Of course she’d done that. Given him a piece of herself.

The same girl who’d faced down three heirs and cleaned ashes off the hearth without flinching had also tied a bow on a skeletal mouse like he deserved to be seen.

I felt that twist again—guilt and something else, sharper.

She wasn’t just trying. She wasreaching—to understand this world, to belong in it, to shape it with the same stubborn grace she brought to everything.

And I’d sat there like stone while Elio humiliated her.

I cleared my throat, looking back at the text between us. She didn’t need my regret. She needed someone who believed she could do this.

“You’re actually a good teacher,” she said as the light faded outside. “Why help me, though? After Saturday night…” Her voice faltered. “Won’t the others be angry?”

They would. Any hint of alliance would be seen as betrayal. But watching her struggle, seeing her work so hard to understand…

“The others don’t control me,” I said finally. “And…” I hesitated. “I know what it’s like to feel lost in this place.”

Something in her expression softened. “Because of your parents?”

I shouldn’t tell her. Shouldn’t risk this connection. But the words came anyway.”They died when I was young. My uncle raised me, but he…” The memory of his lessons—the cruel punishments, the cold calculation, everything except the therapy that kept my magic from spiraling completely out of control. “He’s not someone who explains things patiently.”

Understanding filled her eyes—not pity, but something worse. Recognition. Scout chittered softly, and Wisp’s form stabilized, as if drawing comfort from the shared understanding.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

20

Marigold

The necromancy classroomwas nothing like I’d imagined. Instead of a dark, creepy dungeon, it was bright and open, with tall windows and cushioned practice areas. Protective symbols in faint blue chalk marked the walls—simple but layered, their power woven deep. I could feel the traces of magic left behind by past students when I touched the stone, like fingerprints you can still see on glass even after you’ve wiped it down.

It was the first time I had entered a space at Wickem and felt like I belonged.

The class was a mix of upper and lower years, all working in the same space, reinforcing the idea that necromancers learned from one another.

The professor, an older man in a dark suit with Mediterranean features, called together the small group of freshmen—me, Raven, Lucas, and two others.

“Today, we begin with foundational practice,” Professor Undergrove explained. “Given recent vampire activity near Fort Collins, we will focus on defensive techniques. However, understanding the difference between summoning and protection is crucial. First—” He gestured to the diagrams on the board.

“We will start with a protective circle against vampires. This is a fundamental necromantic defense, disrupting their corrupted life force and preventing them from crossing. Mastering this will be essential for your Third Week Trials, where defensive magic will be tested alongside summoning skills.”

A girl near the front raised her hand. “Professor? Is it true that necromancers can sense vampires? Since they’re… you know, dead?”