Fila started walking down the corridors of the school. She didn't mind that she had been left there by her comrades. She actually took the time to explore while trying to find her group again.
And, she knew damn well Fontaine wouldn't left her here if he didn't think she could do it or find them again. so, she decided to take it as a sort of challenge.
Fila didn't bother calling out. Her voice, always a bit raspy and quiet, would have been swallowed by the sound of the cascading indoor waterfalls anyway. Instead, she let the tip of her cane click rhythmically against the stone, the sound echoing off the high, golden ceilings to give her a sense of the space around her.
"Maybe the headmaster was so frustrated by him loosing, so he left me here as payback." She said to herself and nodded. "Only explanation."
The corridors of Castelobruxo weren't straight or predictable like the stone halls of Ilvermorny. They felt organic, curving like the bends of a river. Which just made it some much more confusing.
She could use her flowers to help her, but knowing what happened before she didn't want to risk opening her sight too much right now.
Fila navigated the winding passageway with a deliberate slowness. The stone beneath her boots was incredibly smooth, worn down by centuries of students, but the walls were a different story. They were textured with deep carvings and thick, waxy leaves that occasionally brushed against her shoulders.
"If I end up in a dungeon, Fontaine is never hearing the end of it," she muttered.
The air was getting thicker the deeper she went. She kept her magic pulled in tight, like a cloak wrapped around her shoulders, refusing to let her flowersight expand beyond the few feet of floor in front of her. Even so, the sheer density of the life around her was impossible to ignore. It felt like walking through a living, breathing creature.
As she turned a sharp corner where the golden stone gave way to dark, obsidian-like rock, the air suddenly changed. The humid warmth was sliced through by a sharp, metallic tang. It felt exactly like the air right before a massive summer storm, heavy, charged, and smelling of ozone.
Fila stopped dead. Her cane hovered an inch above the floor.
A few yards ahead, a magical signature was radiating a restless, crackling energy. It wasn't the deep green of the forest or the steady gold of the school. It was a bright, flickering violet, snapping like a live wire.
Fila tilted her head, her blindfold shifting slightly. The signature was smaller and leaner than the professors, but the power behind it was intense. It was a girl. Fila could sense the silhouette of someone leaning against a carved pillar, perfectly still, yet surrounded by that storm.
The girl didn't move, but the air between them hissed with a tiny spark of static.
"You are a long way from the Sun Wing, North American," the girl said. Her voice was cool and crisp, cutting through the heavy drone of the waterfalls like a blade.
Fila didn't retreat. She planted her cane firmly and let her jagged smirk pull at her lips. "I'm taking the scenic route. It's just so interesting."
The girl Blinked by the obvious lie. "I am Beatriz. And you must be the one they call the 'Flower of Ilvermorny'." The girl said.
Fila's mouth opened. And she just stood there for a moment. "Wait, I have a cool nickname?!" she exclaimed in excitement.
Beatriz let out a sharp, dry laugh that sounded like the crack of a whip. The violet energy around her flickered with amusement, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. "You did not know? The rumors traveled faster than your balloon, North American. They say you have already killed tens of dark wizards in France during summer. Is it not true?"
Fila's excitement was practically radiating off her. She forgot, just for a second, that she was lost in a giant, humid pyramid or that her head still felt like it had been used as a drum. "The Flower of Ilvermorny," she repeated, her voice catching that airy, delighted lilt. "I was expecting something like 'The Blind Girl' or 'The Girl who Smells like Mushrooms.' This is a significant upgrade. But Yes something like ten or so." She flexed, while in reality it had been around twenty.
The two girls looked at each other for some time, both seeing a fighter in each other. Beatriz saw the American and was slightly confused. Blind and weird, how could someone like this fight. Or even become a champion in an upcoming dueling tournament.
"You can call me Bea." She said while starting to walk towards Fila. When she had come close enough she took her arm in a lock. "I will guide you back to your comrades." She said with a smile.
Fila blushed slightly when she smelled the girls perfume, and that broken English was just so cute. "Thank you Bea, and you can call me Fila. Short for Ophelia." She said back with a smile while the two walked.
The two girls walked I a strange kind of harmony. And as they passed students they looked confused as two rivals on the first day had just gone for a walk, while holding each other in arm locks.
The walk through the winding golden corridors felt much shorter with Beatriz leading the way. Every time their shoulders brushed, a tiny spark of static jumped between them, making the hair on Fila's arms stand up.
"So, Flower," Beatriz said, her accent thick but her voice steady. "How does a blind girl win so many fights? Do the dark wizards simply trip over your cane?"
Fila let out a raspy, melodic laugh. "No, but I wish. It would have made it so much easier. Last time I hung a hug from a wall, and his friends too actually." She just blurted out, and she didn't think about how cynical it had sounded coming from a third year student.
Beatriz missed a step, her arm tightening instinctively around Fila's. The violet static in her aura spiked, flickering with a mixture of dark amusement and genuine wariness. She looked at the girl, searching the expression beneath the blindfold for any sign of a joke, but Fila's jagged, casual smirk remained perfectly in place.
"You hung them... from a wall?" Beatriz repeated, her voice dropping an octave. She sounded impressed, if a bit unsettled. "The North American schools are much more aggressive than the brochures suggest. I thought you were all tea and soft magic."
Fila shock her head. "You must be thinking about Hogwarts, we drink tea yes. But no soft spells here."
"Hogwarts," she said, the name sounding exotic on her tongue. "The castle in the fog. Yes, perhaps I was confused. But I see now. A flower with thorns is still a flower, but a flower with a body count is... something else entirely."
The two girls emerged from the curving corridor into a space where the golden stone seemed to open up, revealing the entrance to the Sun Wing. The air here was lighter, though still filled with the scent of blooming orchids.
"Fila!"
June's voice echoed through the hall. She was standing near a set of heavy wooden doors, her pink aura practically vibrating with a mix of relief and sheer exasperation. She started toward them, then stopped dead, her eyes darting between Fila's grinning face and the tall, violet-sparking Brazilian girl who was currently linked to Fila's arm.
"I found her wandering near the obsidian pillars," Beatriz announced, her voice regaining its cool, sharp edge. She released Fila's arm, though the lingering scent of perfume stayed behind like a ghost. "She was telling me about her interior decorating skills with dark wizards. Your 'Flower' has a very dark sense of humor."
June blinked, looking at Fila with a look of pure, unadulterated exhaustion. "She told you about the wall? Fila, we talked about the wall! You can't lead with the wall! It makes people think we're all lunatics who spend our summers at Ilvermorny practicing taxidermy!"
"It was a relevant detail, June," Fila defended, her voice catching that airy, defiant lilt. "Besides, Bea likes it. Don't you, Bea?"
Beatriz gave a short, stiff nod, she stepped back. "It is better to be a lunatic than a victim. Rest well, North Americans. The feast begins when the sun touches the canopy, and I expect to see the 'Flower' in full bloom."
With a swift, graceful turn that made her green robes swirl like jungle leaves, Beatriz vanished back into the winding corridor.
"You're a menace," June muttered, grabbing Fila's shoulder and steering her toward their quarters. "An absolute menace. You've been here for twenty minutes and you've already terrified the locals and made a friend who looks like she could strike us both with lightning. And why are you blushing? Is it the humidity or the perfume?"
"She has a very nice magic, June," Fila whispered, her jagged smirk reaching both sides of her face as they walked. "And she calls me 'Flower.' I think I'm going to like it here."
Fila kicked off her boots and let her cane clatter softly against the mossy carpet. She collapsed onto one of the beds, the fabric feeling cool and smooth against her skin.
"Finally," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. The Null-Stone around her neck felt like a cold weight, keeping the overwhelming 'shouting' of the jungle at a manageable distance. "I think my brain was about five minutes away from actually melting."
June didn't say anything for a moment. She was busy opening one of the large, circular windows, allowing a slight breeze to stir the heavy air. "It's different here," June finally said, sitting on the edge of her own bed. "Back at Ilvermorny, everything feels so... sharp. Here, it's like the whole building is giving you a hug."
"A very humid, sweaty hug," Fila joked, though she didn't move. She lay there with her arms spread wide, her blindfolded face turned toward the ceiling. "But yeah. It's nice. Even if the trees are loud."
For a while, they just sat in the comfortable silence. The only sounds were the distant, exotic bird calls and the faint rustle of the canopy outside.
"So," June said, her voice teasing. "The Flower of Ilvermorny, huh? That's going to be on the front page of the school paper by next week. Miles is going to be so jealous."
"I know, I'm simply the best. Getting such a badass name… wait." She sat up. Multiple questions had just popped into her head. How did she even know about what happened in France.
The newspaper had only written about an Rosier family member being kidnapped, but nothing had gotten out about the whole thing being done by dark wizard following the Dark lord.
Fila's brow furrowed, the excitement of the nickname momentarily eclipsed by a sharp, calculating coldness. She sat bolt upright, her fingers tracing the smooth edge of the Null-Stone around her neck.
Fila told her about what she did, but never that it had actually happened. And she wouldn't have told her if she didn't ask, and now she questioned why she even told her… alright stop.
A deep sigh came from Fila.
Maybe its just something, like a pure blood with connections. Or a loose mouth that wasn't shut in time. But she didn't fully trust it. so with brisk steps she walked out of her room and stormed into the room where Fontaine were having a conversation with Benedita Dourado.
Fila walked in like she had all the right to, and looked at the two headmasters. The two of them made Fila slightly shocked as their magic collided in a beautiful way. Like two titans standing by each other.
"Ophelia, something I can help with?" Fontaine asked finally, breaking the awkward silence since she had stormed in.
"We need to talk about the 'scenic route' I took on the way here," Fila said, her voice dropping that airy lilt for something much more grounded and sharp.
Benedita Dourado tilted her head, her dark braids shifting over her feline-fur robes. Her magic flared with a flicker of curiosity, but she remained silent, allowing Fontaine to handle his student.
"I assume you didn't burst in here to complain about the architecture," Fontaine noted, his voice calm but laced with that dry edge that meant he was paying very close attention.
"I met one of the students. Beatriz," Fila continued, turning her blindfolded face slightly toward the Brazilian Headmistress. "She called me the 'Flower of Ilvermorny.' She also knew exactly what I did in France. Not just that I was there, but the... specifics of how I handled the situation."
Fila felt the air in the room tighten. Fontaine's magic didn't move, but it turned cold, like a lake freezing over in a split second.
"Specifics that weren't in the Daily Prophet," Fila added pointedly. "Specifics that only the ICW and a few high-ranking officials should know. So, unless the Brazilian school paper has a very impressive investigative team, I'd like to know why the locals are greeting me with my own classified body count."
Benedita Dourado let out a soft, humming sound. Her aura didn't spark with guilt; instead, it smoothed out into something deeply professional. "Your reputation precedes you, Ophelia. Brazil and France share many interests, and the magical world is smaller than a manor-carriage might suggest."
"That's a very diplomatic way of saying you've been reading my mail," Fila rasped, her jagged smirk appearing, though it didn't reach her eyes.
Fontaine stood up, his height casting a long shadow over the office. "Benedita and I were just discussing the security of the tournament. It seems, Ophelia, that your 'summer vacation' made you a person of interest to more than just the dark wizards you... handled in that cellar"
Fila raised an eyebrow under her blindfold.
"How so?" Fila asked.
"I don't like being a 'person of interest' without a heads-up, old man," Fila snapped, her sapphire magic sparking at the tip of her cane.
"Then consider this your heads-up," Fontaine replied, his voice firm. "You are a Champion. That means you are a target for observation. If you didn't want a nickname, you shouldn't have been so theatrical in Paris."
Fila let out a sharp huff, realizing she wasn't going to get a confession of espionage today. She turned back toward the door, her cane clicking once against the floor.
But soon turned again. "You have a very beautiful school, headmaster Dourado. And I really like Bea." She bowed slightly and then walked out, making sure to close the door again with her magic as she left.
Inside the room, the two headmasters looked at each other.
"As I was saying, she is a unique student." Fontaine said with a slight chuckle.
Headmistress Dourado watched the wood settle into its frame, her dark braids catching the orange light of the setting sun. "She is a very intense young woman, Fontaine," she said, her voice dropping into a more comfortable, conversational tone. "She has the air of someone who has seen far too much for her age. And her control... most students would have needed a wand to close that door with such finality."
Fontaine leaned back against the edge of the heavy desk, crossing his arms. A faint, tired smile touched his lips. "She's difficult to manage, Benedita. I've tried to keep her under wraps, but she has a way of making herself the center of every storm she walks into. She's right about the leak, though. If your students know about Paris, then the Ministry has been talking."
"The leak is probably coming from Britain, is what my source is telling me. More precisely, the arrogant pure bloods have been shuffling money to leak the story." Dourado said while picking up her cup from the table. "How it got here is most likely some attempt to spread it everywhere by them."
"It would seem they want to turn a localized embarrassment into a global spectacle," Dourado continued, the steam from her cup rising in a thin, fragrant curl. "By painting the Rosier rescue as a bloodbath led by an American student, they hope to distract from the fact that their own security failed so spectacularly."
Fontaine let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Typical. If they can't erase the failure, they'll weaponize the hero. They want Fila to be seen as a monster so they can look like victims of 'uncivilized' American magic. It's a dangerous game to play with a girl who already has a temper."
Outside the door. Fila finally let out a breath she didn't know she had held. She felt her shoulder sink down again. "Ah, that feels better." She mumbled for herself.
Feeling like she had just given away a boulder from her back felt really good, and she decided that from now on she wouldn't hold things like this in. and just to dump it on the headmaster, a really good plan.
Fila leaned her head against the cool stone wall for a second, a mischievous spark returning to her aura. Dumping her problems on Fontaine was rapidly becoming her favorite pastime; after all, what were Headmasters for if not to worry about international conspiracies while she enjoyed her dinner?
"Alright, enough of that," she whispered, her voice regaining its airy lightness. She straightened her robes and began the trek back toward the Sun Wing, the tip of her cane clicking a much more cheerful rhythm.
Later that evening, Fila stood in front of a mirror in her room. And June was helping her put on the dueling suit she would start wearing from now on.
"June can you loosen the strap around my waist a little?" Fila said in a cry for help. "Its killing me"
June tightened it. "Nope, you need to show them muscles you been building up." She said with a smile. Fila had started growing very cautious of June's obsession with muscles, she had even started calling her muscle mommy for a while now.
The black pants, black west with a white shirt under, and the symbolic tie in the stripped color of Ilvermorny, cherry red and blue with golden lines. But with these clothes being put on, she also felt the whole situation starting to get serious.
She was about to begin a tournament that could end student's lives. Even her own was at stake.
June stood back, admiring her handiwork as Fila adjusted the stiff collar of her shirt. The formal dueling attire was a far cry from the soot-stained rags Fila had been wearing just hours ago. The high-waisted black trousers were tailored perfectly, and the vest sat snug against her frame, making her look sharp, composed, and undeniably dangerous.
"There," June said, her voice softening as she noticed Fila's sudden silence. "You look like a Champion, Fila. Not just because of the muscles, though, seriously, the training paid off, but because you actually carry the weight of those robes."
Fila traced the silk of her tie, the cherry red and blue fabric feeling cool under her fingertips. "It's a lot of weight, June," she rasped. The playfulness of the afternoon had settled into a heavy, quiet anticipation. "The 'Flower' title, the rumors from France... it's all just noise until the first bell rings. But once it does, I'm not just fighting for a trophy. I'm fighting to prove Fontaine wasn't crazy for putting me on that balloon."
June stepped forward and squeezed Fila's shoulder, her pink aura grounding and warm. "He isn't crazy. He's just the only one who knows you well enough to be terrified of what you're about to do to these people."
"Let's go then," Fila said, her voice regaining its airy, defiant lilt. "I wouldn't want to keep the spectators waiting for the Flower of Ilvermorny." She said with a smirk.
June sighed. "You've been talking about that non stop for five hours."