-Jasper-
I couldn't feel the threat from the Council, not directly. My fae-light didn't sense political maneuvers or deceitful decrees. I only felt the immediate, raw energy of the school—and tonight, that energy was a tightly wound wire humming at the breaking point.
I was in the central administration hall, far from the Headmistress's office where Alexia was setting the Silver Trap. My role was simple: anchor the fear. While Alexia played the strategist and Soren and Finn prepared for physical containment, Kira and I had to maintain the fragile calm we had built. If the Council's aggression broke the students' morale, the wards—even the ones reinforced by the mate bond—would weaken.
Kira materialized beside me, her swift, efficient energy a welcome contrast to my more passive, stabilizing light. She smelled faintly of steel and late-night organizing.
"Alexia's orders," Kira whispered, her voice tight. "The report is going out now. She anticipates a major, public move from the Council by midday tomorrow. They'll use the false flag of her 'unraveling chaos' to justify an immediate intervention."
My stomach coiled with anxiety, but I forced my fae-light to remain steady, letting it bleed out into the air in a slow, white pulse of calm. The students couldn't afford my nerves.
"Intervention means binding spells, expulsions, or worse," I summarized. "We need every student who participated in the training tonight ready to mask their magic the second a Council delegate sets foot on campus."
"They're scared, Jasper," Kira admitted, running a hand through her hair. "The whispers about the spy are already spreading. They know someone was pulled from their dorm tonight."
"Then we counteract the fear with structure," I decided, turning toward the door that led to the common dormitories. "We start with the second group. The shifters and vampires. They can handle aggressive instruction. They need to practice concealment while under duress."
We moved quickly through the halls. For the fae, fear manifested as volatility—a frantic, blinding light. For the shifters, it was loss of control—shifting at inappropriate times. For the vampires, it was a dangerous, reactive hunger. We had to prepare them for an attack that would specifically target their discipline.
In the secluded, basement training room, a dozen students were already waiting. The shifters stood poised, tense, their skin ready to sprout scales or fur. The vampires were unnervingly still, their movements minimized to conserve energy.
"The time for theory is over," I announced, my voice carrying the steady, unwavering conviction of my fae heritage. I pushed a wave of my stabilizing light into the room, bathing every student in a cool, precise glow. "Tomorrow, you will face the Council's most potent weapon: fear-casting."
Kira stepped up, her command immediate and sharp. "Fear-casting breaks your focus. It forces your instinct to take over. You will learn to cast the simplest possible illusion—a protective barrier, a distraction—while your mind is screaming. If you fail, the Council knows who you are."
I began the exercise. Kira started chanting simple, distracting spells—flashing lights, sudden illusions of movement. I added the emotional layer. I didn't inject fear, but I focused on the specific anxieties I could subtly detect in each student: the fear of magical loss, the fear of isolation, the fear of losing control of their forms. My fae-light amplified those feelings, forcing the students to contend with their worst personal nightmares while trying to maintain magical discipline.
The room immediately devolved into a low chaos. A young shifter spasmed, her elbow cracking as bone attempted to shift mid-joint. A vampire near the back snapped forward, his fangs elongating, his eyes locking onto Kira.
"Control!" I roared, pushing my stabilizing light harder, forcing discipline onto the volatile emotional air. I grabbed the shifter, placing my hand over her strained muscle, soothing the physical pain while Kira shouted commands. "The Council wants your panic! They want your visible stress! Shrink your magic! Make yourselves invisible!"
The tension in my chest was immense. I was absorbing their emotional feedback—taking their fear into my own core to neutralize it—and I could feel the thin thread of my control starting to fray. I closed my eyes, picturing Alexia's face, remembering the powerful, silent knot we had woven into the school's central ward just hours earlier. The anchor holds. I am the anchor.
I opened my eyes and saw Rowan standing near the open door.
He wasn't cloaked, and he wasn't spying. He was carrying a small satchel, his non-magical, healer's face creased with concern.
"Jasper," he said, his voice quiet, "I heard the noise. One of the shifter students is injured. I'm here to help."
I hesitated. Alexia had just set a trap involving a spy, and the last time we saw Rowan, he was standing directly over a surveillance charm. Could I trust the non-magical healer who offered aid? Or was this another layer of the Council's subtle surveillance?
"We are fine, Rowan," Kira snapped immediately, placing herself between Rowan and the injured student. "This is not a clinic. Headmistress's direct orders."
Rowan merely looked at the injured shifter, then at me. "Your light is impressive, Jasper, but you can only suppress the symptoms. You can't heal the trauma of a partial, panicked shift. Let me help her."
His honesty, combined with the practical medical knowledge, cut through my suspicion. He was a non-magical healer who genuinely cared about the students. It was the perfect cover.
I made a rapid, dangerous calculation. If he was a spy, exposing him would ruin Alexia's trap. If he was just a medic, refusing his aid would compromise a student's safety.
"Kira, stand down," I ordered, my voice firm. "Rowan, you can treat her, but you don't speak about the nature of this training. You saw nothing but an accident. Understood?"
Rowan nodded, his expression softening with relief as he knelt beside the shifter.
The presence of the non-magical healer paradoxically deepened the tension. We were training for war, surrounded by allies, yet forced to treat a trusted staff member as a potential enemy.
I refocused on the students. "You saw the lapse in control," I projected, my voice now harsher. "The enemy is not Rowan. The enemy is the Council's fear. If you cannot control yourselves under my minor pressure, you will expose every one of your allies when the Council arrives."
For the next two hours, we pushed them to the brink, Kira testing their focus with illusions, me testing their emotional control with amplified anxiety. By the time we released the final group, they were exhausted, their clothing damp with sweat and residual energy, but their magic was silent—hidden deep beneath layers of discipline and will.
The moment the last student left, I slumped against the wall, utterly drained. My entire fae body ached from absorbing so much raw fear.
Kira looked at me, her eyes reflecting the strain. "Thorne's report is out. The Council will move. What happens when the anchor breaks, Jasper?"
I forced a final pulse of white light from my core, reinforcing the illusion of calm. "It doesn't. We stand in the light. We keep the students safe. And we wait for Alexia's trap to snap shut."