The past week had felt like a month.
Amanda had insisted on staying with me during my recovery, preparing meals in my kitchen while Talia and Sammy kept me company with endless card games. It was a strange comfort—the mundane normalcy of it all, given that the world outside my room had descended into chaos.
"The food was really good, Amanda. Thank you for taking care of me," I said as she washed the dishes, her hands moving methodically through the soapy water.
She smiled softly without turning around. "Someone has to make sure you don't starve yourself while brooding."
The incident at the ballroom had triggered a cascade of consequences that reverberated across the entire continent. The mainland was gripped by panic. The royal family held press conference after press conference, desperately attempting to reassure citizens that the situation was under control—a claim that rang increasingly hollow with each passing day.
The numbers told the true story: the academy had begun with 1,200 enrolled students. One month later, only 500 remained. The rest had been withdrawn by frightened families or... had not survived the attack. The loss was staggering. Students walked the academy's halls like ghosts, many having lost their closest friends, their siblings, their entire support systems in a single night of violence.
The Headmaster had been under relentless scrutiny. Nobility and commoners alike questioned how a demon had breached the supposedly impenetrable barriers. The academy's reputation, built over centuries, hung by a thread.
Today was the day of the last rites—a solemn ceremony to honor the fallen and grant them their final peace.
"Can you help me with this shirt, Sammy?" I asked, still struggling with the buttons one-handed.
"Absolutely, darling," he said with exaggerated flair, earning eye rolls from everyone present.
Once dressed in formal white—the traditional color of mourning—we made our way toward the cremation grounds. The academy corridors were crowded with students, faculty, and families of the deceased, all moving with heavy steps and heavier hearts.
As we walked, I noticed the stares. More than noticed—I felt them like daggers, directed specifically at me. Students whispered as we passed, their expressions shifting from sorrow to something darker. Anger. Accusation.
"What's their problem?" I asked, frustration creeping into my voice.
Sammy's jaw tightened. "There's been a rumor spreading through the academy. Someone's saying that you summoned the demon. Not Koari."
I stopped walking, processing this. "How would they even—"
"Only we were there in the basement," Amanda interjected, her voice tight. "How could anyone else know what actually happened?"
Talia's expression darkened with understanding. "It's a setup. Someone working for Koari is spreading this misinformation to discredit you and create reasonable doubt about her guilt. Classic misdirection."
We continued forward in tense silence.
The cremation grounds were a study in sorrow. The atmosphere was suffocating, the air thick with grief and denial. Hundreds had gathered—families of the deceased, academy staff, nobility, and the royal guard. The sky itself seemed to weep for the tragedy, dark clouds gathering overhead.
As we arrived, the first drops of rain began to fall. It felt deliberate, as if even nature mourned what had been lost.
We walked deeper into the assembled crowd, moving toward where the funeral rites would take place. The bodies of our fallen classmates lay prepared on ceremonial platforms, waiting to be released to the flames. Around them stood families—mothers collapsed in the arms of fathers, siblings standing in shock, friends clinging to each other.
The devastation was absolute.
We had barely found our place when a man broke from one of the grieving families. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face twisted with rage. Without a word, he swung his fist directly at my face.
The impact sent me staggering backward, pain exploding through my jaw. Before I could recover, others joined him—a tide of grief-stricken relatives and friends, united in their need to direct their anguish somewhere tangible.
My friends moved to intervene, but for a moment, they seemed frozen by the sheer chaos of it. Amanda and Talia quickly pushed through, shielding me as best they could while Sammy drove the attackers back.
"Enough!" I gasped, tasting blood. My recently healed stitches had torn open, and fresh blood ran down my forehead. "This isn't—"
"You're the reason our son is dead!" a woman screamed, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief.
"You killed my daughter!" another voice joined in.
"The academy is protecting you," someone else said, voice dripping with bitter conviction. "A student would never be harbored if they were truly guilty. Only an outsider has that privilege."
The voices began to chant, building into a crescendo: "You should die. You should atone. You should pay for what you've done."
The accusation burrowed into my chest, heavier than any physical blow. I hadn't caused this. I had stopped it. But how could they see that through their pain?
Amanda was quickly at my side, producing bandages from her bag and carefully applying pressure to my forehead as my friends created a barrier around me. The chanting continued, but we had moved far enough that the physical assault had ceased.
My anger burned cold and deep. This wasn't fair. This wasn't just. But it was real, and it was something I would have to bear.
The Headmaster's address came soon after, his voice carrying across the grounds with practiced authority. He stood before the gathered crowds, dignified despite the circumstances.
"My name is Alex Thornhaven, and I serve as Headmaster of this academy. Today, we gather to honor those who were taken from us—students, faculty, and citizens whose lives were cut short in an act of darkness. We are grateful for their service to this empire, and we mourn the loss of their potential unfulfilled."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the crowd.
"I will not pretend that the academy has been without fault. Protective barriers exist for a reason, and those barriers failed. That failure is on us—on me. However, I stand before you to clarify something crucial: the tragedy that befell us was not orchestrated by one of our students. The blame lies solely with an instructor who violated every oath and principle this academy represents. She sought to summon a creature of destruction, and she succeeded. But know this—she will face justice."
The Headmaster's words seemed to stabilize the crowd somewhat, though the anger didn't fully dissipate. It merely transformed, redirecting itself toward its proper target.
As the funeral rites commenced and the flames began to consume the remains of our fallen, I made a silent promise to myself: I would never be helpless again. Never would I stand by while others suffered. This pain, this rage, this sense of injustice—I would transform it into something purposeful.
The world had become more dangerous. And I needed to become more than I was.
"The royal family wishes to meet with all of you today at three o'clock," the Headmaster announced as we stood in his office later that afternoon. His tone suggested this wasn't a request.
"Can I decline?" I asked, only half-joking.
The Headmaster's expression made it clear that wasn't an option. "The king and queen have specifically requested your presence. All of you. This is a matter of state importance."
Talia exchanged a significant look with Sammy, who raised an eyebrow. "Well, someone's being honored today," Talia said with a slight smile, though her eyes remained serious.
"That's certainly one word for it," I muttered. "What should we wear?"
"Formal attire will suffice," the Headmaster replied. "Nothing elaborate. The king prefers practicality over pageantry."
I nodded, my mind already racing with possibilities. A summons from the royal family hours after a public accusation and assault? The timing seemed deliberately calculated. Whether that was good or ill remained to be seen.
"Do you have any other questions?" the Headmaster asked, glancing around.
"No, sir. We're good," I replied, and we turned to leave.
As we exited his office, Sammy leaned toward me. "Do you think this is about what happened at the funeral?"
"Maybe," I said quietly. "Or maybe it's about something else entirely. Either way, we'll find out soon enough."
The clock was ticking toward three o'clock, and with it came both opportunity and uncertainty. The royal family rarely involved themselves in academy matters. Whatever they wanted from us, it was significant enough to warrant their personal attention.
I just hoped we were ready for what came next.
Amanda walked beside me, still close enough that I could feel her presence—a quiet reassurance that I wasn't facing whatever came alone. Talia and Sammy flanked us, their loyalty as solid as stone.
Whatever awaited us in that royal chamber, we would face it together. That would have to be enough.