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“Quite the escort you’ve picked up, Vale,” Vivienne murmured, her voice smooth as silk and just as sharp. “I expected more sense from you than falling for Norwood’s particular brand of attention.”

I didn’t look at her. My eyes remained on Professor Blackwood, who was now elegantly inscribing ancient wards across the board, her strokes as precise as incantations.

“I wasn’t aware my social choices required your validation, Vivienne.”

A soft laugh slipped from her lips—empty and gleaming like polished glass.

“They don’t,” she said sweetly. “But I do hope you realize he’s only using you… to get closer to that charming little trinket around your neck.”

Her gaze dropped briefly to the Raven’s Echo, then lifted again—cool, calculating.

“One has to question your judgment, Elvana. If you’re too blinded by attention to see it.”

Professor Blackwood’s chalk danced across the board, her calligraphy an art in itself as she began to illustrate the first ward. "This," she declared, pausing to let us observe intricate symbols, "is the Divination Ward." Her voice was steady, filled with an authority that demanded our attention.

She pointed to a series of interlocking circles and lines that shimmered faintly with residual magic.

"The Divination Ward prevents unwanted scrying and remote observation.

It distorts and blocks the energies used for magical surveillance.

In essence, it protects the secrets of its bearer by clouding their aura against prying eyes. "

Her gaze swept over the room, and I could almost feel the weight of her words settling around us, a tangible barrier of protection and mystery.

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed, her disdain curling like smoke—not just for who stood beside me, but for the idea that I might be vulnerable enough to believe in any of it.

“Did you honestly think someone like him would notice you without an ulterior motive?” she said, voice pitched just loud enough for the nearby students to catch. “How… adorably delusional.”

The words hit their mark—sharp, practiced, designed to wound.

I bit my tongue.

Not because she was right.

Because I refused to let her see the way it stung.

Instead, I fixed my gaze on Professor Blackwood, whose hands moved with effortless grace as she shifted to the next demonstration—her power silent, commanding, and wholly unbothered by petty noise.

Exactly how I intended to be.

"Next, we have the Silencing Ward." The professor’s voice took on a hushed tone, as if she were about to share a sacred secret.

She drew a series of delicate, wavy lines that interlaced with angular symbols, forming a protective lattice.

"The Silencing Ward dampens all sound within its boundaries.

Ideal for safeguarding sensitive conversations or magical rituals where every word is laden with power.

It is both a barrier and a sanctuary for quiet thought. "

I could almost see the wards taking shape in the air—a soft, invisible field that mutes the clamor of the world, leaving behind only the gentle murmur of one's heartbeat.

In that moment, the idea struck a chord within me; the concept of creating a soundproof bubble was precisely what we required to uncover the secret passage.

I turned to Lydia, noticing the subtle nod of her head and the intense focus in her eyes, which reflected an unspoken agreement and understanding. Her gaze told me everything—I knew she grasped the plan perfectly.

Vivienne shifted in her seat, her gaze gliding over the symbols on the board with the meticulous scrutiny of someone searching for flaws.

“Useful,” she murmured, tone cool and calculated, “for those with far too much to hide. ”

The implication landed like a needle—measured, intentional.

I felt the sting of it, the heat rising beneath my collar. My tongue was already shaping a retort—

But before the words could leave my lips, Professor Blackwood’s voice sliced through the silence, reclaiming the room with the effortless authority only she could wield.

"And finally, the Alarm Ward." With precise strokes, she inscribed a symbol that resembled a watchful eye encircled by a complex arcane rune.

"This ward serves as an early warning system," she explained, her voice rising with a hint of urgency.

"Once activated, any unauthorized breach or disturbance within its confines triggers a series of signals—whether you choose auditory or magical—to alert the caster.

It is indispensable for the protection of valuables and the preservation of privacy. "

I noted the deliberate contrast between the quiet, introspective nature of the Silencing Ward and the vigilant, almost aggressive alertness of the Alarm Ward.

Each had its own place, its own purpose, reflecting the multifaceted approach to warding whatever secrets you held close, or possibly even your movements.

Vivienne’s voice sliced through the quiet once more, every syllable dipped in ice.

“Tell me, Elvana,” she said, her tone smooth but biting, “which of these wards do you think suits you best? A Divination Ward , perhaps—to keep your secrets from slipping? A Silencing Ward , to muffle your… indiscretions?”

She paused, eyes glittering.

“Or maybe an Alarm Ward , for when someone gets too close.”

Her words were a calculated provocation, and I felt my cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

I kept my jaw set, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

Instead, I met her gaze evenly and said, “Perhaps all of them.”

My tone was cool, measured.

“Professor Blackwood doesn’t waste her time teaching spells that aren’t worth knowing, Vivienne. ”

Professor Blackwood’s eyes flicked in our direction, and for a moment, I thought she might admonish us for our petulance.

Instead, she simply offered Vivienne a measured smile that spoke volumes about her understanding of class dynamics and continued her instruction with practiced poise.

"Each ward is a tool," she said, her voice calm but weighted, "much like any other aspect of magic. Their true power lies not just in their creation, but in the wisdom with which they are employed."

I listened intently, letting her words sink in like a balm to the wounds of Vivienne’s accusations. The wards were more than mere spells—they were philosophies, each designed to protect, conceal, or alert.

The Divination Ward spoke of hidden truths and the sanctity of secrecy; the Silencing Ward, of the power of quiet contemplation; and the Alarm Ward, of vigilance and the high price of carelessness.

As the lesson drew to a close, I caught Vivienne’s eyes one last time.

There was a challenge in her gaze—a silent dare that suggested she believed she knew better than I did.

I met her stare with a calm defiance of my own, aware that behind her criticism lay a complexity at which I could only guess.

We left the classroom, filing out into the corridor in a parade of tension and determination.

My mind swirled with plans and the implications of the morning's lessons, the potential of the wards casting new light on the challenges we faced.

Lydia and Bethany stayed close to my side, their expressions a mirror of resolve and readiness.

I couldn't help but notice the persistence of Vivienne's presence as she fell into step behind us, her intentions as always, an enigma wrapped in barbed curiosity.

As we moved through the stone corridors, her voice cut through the air, sharp and unyielding.

“How long do you think you can keep it up, Vale? ” Vivienne asked, her voice low and cold, every word a blade dressed as a question.

“Sneaking around. Pretending you’re not tangled in something bigger than you can handle.”

She leaned in slightly, her tone sharpening.

“Or do you really think Sam will protect you—once you’ve outlived your usefulness?”

There was a practiced cruelty in her questions, a deliberate attempt to unsettle and provoke. Despite my resolve, the words pierced, dredging up my insecurities and leaving me momentarily breathless.

She had a knack for finding the tenderest spots and twisting the knife with precision. I felt the eyes of the other students follow us; their interest piqued by the unfolding drama.

I drew a slow breath, steadying the storm beneath my ribs. When I spoke, my voice was smooth—controlled.

“Is that what you think, Vivienne?”

I met her gaze head-on, holding it with what I hoped passed for unwavering calm.

“That everyone else is just as selfish… just as manipulative as you ?”

Her presence was like a dark mirror, reflecting my doubts back at me with vicious clarity. Yet her persistence only fueled my determination to prove her wrong—to unravel the mysteries she was so intent on exposing and to do so on my own terms.

Lydia and Bethany stayed close, their solidarity a quiet assurance in the midst of Vivienne’s verbal barrage.

Still, her words clung to me like a stubborn shadow, reminding me that nothing at the academy was as simple as Vivienne laughed—a brittle, shattering sound that echoed down the corridor like broken glass.

“It’s almost adorable, ” she said, her voice dripping with gleeful malice. “Watching you fool yourself into believing you’re different. That you’re not like the rest of us. That Sam might actually care. ”

She let the silence stretch for just a moment—long enough for her next words to curdle in the air like poison.

“Your pretty face… and that silly little necklace,” she sneered. “They’re the only things you really have to offer.”

Her confidence was as infuriating as it was unnerving.

I could feel my control slipping, my ability to mask the turmoil inside me threatened by the relentless accuracy of her observations. I turned away, unable to sustain the facade of indifference any longer.

The last glimpse I caught of Vivienne before we rounded another corner showed her standing her ground with dogged determination. With every step, my frustration began to morph into a grim resolve.

Whether her suspicions were close to the mark or a complete misunderstanding, I could not let her—or anyone else—undermine what we needed to accomplish.

I focused on the steady rhythm of Lydia and Bethany’s footsteps beside me, their presence a reassuring reminder that I was not alone in this.

Though despite my friends’ unwavering support, the seeds of doubt Vivienne sowed took root, growing into tangled vines that choked my ability to think of anything else. Her parting words followed me like a taunt, as inescapable as my own shadow and nearly as suffocating.