Hi all! Thanks once again for the reviews and messages.
Untouchable: Indeed, the first invoked spell was Ghost Walk. As for where the hell Riki is… you'll find out soon.
Atomic mightybond: pretty uncommon to find someone who plays Visage. Why do you like him so much?
Psipwner23: Oops, I have moved it back to T, since less than 5% of the story overall is smut anyway. (The number may rise a bit, though)
Coincidencless: Drow's brain doesn't work like yours. Remember, she's a silly infatuated schoolgirl here.
Writing Rock: Sorry but Drow doesn't like Clinkz, neither does she need his orchids :S
Drow doesn't just go with anyone with Silence, either. In all of Dota 2, she and Silencer are the only two heroes who share the same symbol for their skills (the white mask with red X).
Gagobaka: Believe me, that bit of lemon's crucial to the plot. The next MortredXMagina lemon will probably not happen that soon.
LordAmon52: There are a few plot lines escalating… Glad you are interested!
Disclaimer:
- I do not own Dota, Dota 2 or its characters. Valve owns them.
- This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
- The author does not promote, nor condone the characters' actions and views.
Chapter 51: Discipline and Penitence
A note on the title: 'Penitence' is a skill of Chen, the Holy Knight - one of the least played heroes in Dota 2. According to lore, Chen is a religious fanatic and also a sworn enemy of the Silencer.
(Chen's other skills are: Test of Faith, Holy Persuasion (converts creeps, teleports allies to base) and Hand of God).
Chapter Warning: Possible triggers for anything and everything, sensitive topics that may make one uncomfortable.
Nortrom
As he downed his fourth cup of coffee for the day, Nortrom took a quick look at his schedule and sighed. He wished he was Slithice or Azwraith, but there was only one of him and three different places to be in. In an hour's time, there would be a staff meeting, library duty, and a remedial class with a group of students who had failed the math exams. On top of that, he had a ton of reports to do and statistics to compile for Principal Aghanim.
As if that weren't enough, Aghanim had also given him some of Rubick's work, presumably to punish him for his long disappearance. Meanwhile, the principal's son was having a hell of a time performing magic tricks in class.
Nortrom knew the night would be spent alone in his office yet again, and it wasn't just because of work. He was avoiding going home nowadays. She had left her scent on his couch, and she'd also left behind one of her T shirts, which he kept neatly folded under his own clothes. Now that she was no longer around, his apartment seemed even emptier than before.
Stepping out of the staff room with a stack of files under his arm, he was bombarded by such a ruckus that it seemed as though the whole world was trying to piss him off. The past week of exams had been bliss when silence reigned in the school, but now that the exams were over, all hell had broken loose and everyone was yelling and laughing just because they could.
As he made his way to class to return the graded math papers, he contemplated over the three clashing duties. The remedial class was important, more so than library duty. The meeting had been called last minute and he really wasn't keen to attend it as Akasha liked to sit next to him and shout into his ear during her tantrums.
That's right. Keep your mind on work.
Something caught his attention. Outside the cafeteria, there was a woman who appeared to be in her twenties conversing with a student. She wasn't a staff member or anyone he knew. After the student left, she hung around and approached the next teenager who walked past.
Nortrom strode towards the woman, intercepting her. From past experiences, he had an inkling as to what was going on. Outsiders proselytising in our school grounds? How dare they!
He cleared his throat, assuming the most polite tone he could muster. "Excuse me. May I know what this is all about?"
"Oh hello!" The woman beamed at him. She was easy on the eyes, slim with short, wavy blond hair, large sapphire eyes and a smile plastered on her face like a Barbie doll. "Are you a teacher? Have you heard of the Holy Knight's Church of Penitence?"
His guess was correct; she was indeed from a religious cult. Restraining from dismissing her right away, he continued to feign politeness. "No, I haven't. What is it about?"
Her eyes lit up eagerly. "We are here to help the students absolve their sins and find peace within themselves."
Nortrom narrowed his eyes, feeling the hairs on his neck prickle. The last time one of those cults had infiltrated the school, they had tried to incite mass suicides among the students. "And what do you get them to do in your … church?"
"Oh, as you know, adolescents have irrational thoughts and urges," the proselytiser explained in a perfectly reasonable tone. "We get them to sing songs, confess their sins and receive guidance from the Holy Knight, Father Chen."
In other words, they get brainwashed, Nortrom concluded. What she'd said sounded innocuous enough, but there was likely more to it. Not that he disliked all religious folks – there were many sensible ones around. Dr. Thunderwrath, for instance, was someone he regarded with the utmost respect. It was scums like this - this Father Chen who deserved to be shot for preying on vulnerable teenagers and exploiting them for their own nefarious motives!
He contemplated his next move. Now was not the time to launch an attack on the Holy Knight's religion. He'd wasted enough time in his youth arguing with fanatics, only to find that those deluded fools did not respond to logic or reason at all. The priority was to get rid of the cult's influence.
"I'm afraid you're not allowed to preach here," he said firmly.
"We're not doing anything wrong," she countered, her eyes blazing with conviction. "We're just here to help."
"It's against the law to proselytise in schools."
The woman remained unfazed, giving him a light touch on the arm. "Oh, we have no ill intentions at all, don't worry. I'm on the same side as you; we share the same concerns."
Nortrom recoiled from the touch, wondering if she even knew what she was talking about. "What concerns?"
"Oh, the psychological welfare of the students, of course." Her voice was warm and sincere, yet mocking at the same time.
"But how about their parents? Do you have their permission to do this?"
"Oh, sometimes the parents get converted too. Some parents really have no idea how to deal with their own kids."
Nortrom shook his head. This sounded bad, really bad.
She was now gazing at him with concern. "You... look a little troubled yourself, Mister. You know, when things get too much, you're always welcome to join our family. Father Chen will help you to find forgiveness, self-acceptance and inner peace –"
"I can solve my own problems, thank you very much," Nortrom replied in a rather defensive tone, quickly changing the topic. "Where are your headquarters?" he demanded.
Countering the teacher's disdain with saintly patience and that unrelenting, zealous smile, she explained, "I'm afraid I can't reveal the exact location of our church. You could come with me, though, if you're interested to find out more!"
The bell rang, breaking up the conversation. Nortrom turned and headed for the classroom, plagued by a deep sense of unease. He needed to inform Aghanim about this, but the principal was on leave, as were most of the teachers. It seemed nobody gave a flying fuck about the cult brazenly spreading their crap. Maybe he shouldn't, too.
Traxex
Traxex shifted in her seat with her phone in her hand. Now and then she would cast an edgy glance at Carl, sitting at the other end of the classroom. A week had passed since she'd tried to break into his locker, but she hadn't gotten over the shock and embarrassment of being caught red-handed.
The blond didn't seem much different from his usual self; neither had he confronted her since the incident, even after she had used Gust on him and slammed him against the bench. Maybe she was so insignificant that he didn't consider her a threat at all.
After Traxex had calmed down enough, she had sent a text to Lina explaining what had happened. The redhead wasn't surprised since she was familiar with Carl's devious nature.
Traxex: What should I do now? Do you think Carl's still pissed off with me?
Lina: Let's lie low for the moment. At least you managed to find out what's inside his pocket
Traxex: Sorry I didn't manage to take it… it was too hot for me to hold
Lina: Just stay safe for now. He's got his powers now and we have no idea what he's gonna do with the Dire stone next.
Traxex: At least he didn't ask what's in my pocket…
Lina: Be extra careful with the Radiant stone!
The sound of footsteps made her snap her head up. Mr Atropos had entered the classroom. Instead of his usual Darth Vader getup, the quirky literature teacher was wearing a funny helmet with horns and a purple cape.
"Your exam papers have been graded. Come and get them!" he announced, drawing a buzz of anticipation among the students. One by one their names were called. "Most of you have done pretty well," Mr Atropos remarked cheerily as he handed everyone their papers.
Traxex took hers and gasped. She had scored a B, the highest grade she'd ever gotten. Most of the time she got Cs and Ds. It was probably the Romeo and Juliet essay that had helped her.
"Now, as you guys know, the Romeo and Juliet play will be held in three weeks' time," Atropos said. "And we will be having quite a large audience, mostly parents and former students."
"Yeah! The play's gonna be awesome because I'm in it," Carl declared with a toss of his luscious golden hair. "I'm gonna be the best ever Romeo in history."
A ripple of interest and amusement spread throughout the class. Atropos turned his attention to Rylai, who was in turn gazing at Carl in a star-struck manner. "How's the preparation, Rylai? Have you started learning your lines yet?"
Rylai glanced up, flipping her wavy flaxen hair back. "Question here... Juliet's only fourteen, so does that mean I need to act younger than my age or something?"
"What, Juliet's only fourteen?" Kardel exclaimed, eyes wide.
Carl turned towards Kardel with a sneer. "Exams are already over and you haven't even read the play, noob!"
"Isn't she underage then?" Dragonus remarked.
"Romeo's a pedophile," Zeus smirked.
"How old is Romeo?" Lina asked.
"Romeo's age isn't specified," Atropos replied. "But he should be around Juliet's age, maybe fifteen or sixteen. You have to remember that the play was written hundreds of years ago, where people got married really young."
Carl's mind is on the play, Traxex texted Lina secretly under her table. That's why he isn't bothered with me. A sigh of relief escaped her. And then her eyes involuntarily drifted to the couple sitting next to the window – Magina and Mortred. They were behaving in a lovey-dovey manner, not in the obvious kind of way, but obvious enough to provoke a pang of jealousy within her.
"Guys, did you know that there is an actual law called the Romeo and Juliet law?" Mr Atropos asked the class.
With a roll of her eyes, Traxex started looking for her earphones.
"Oh really?" Davion asked with interest. "What's it about?"
"This law reduces the penalty of the crime of someone engaging in a sexual relationship with a minor. So, in this day and age, if Romeo were sixteen, he would most likely be let off. However, if Romeo were ten years older than Juliet, then he may be charged with sexual assault."
Traxex stuck her earphones in. She didn't need to hear any more of this, because she had already read up on all the sex laws of the country, during those sleepless nights when she tossed and turned in bed aching for him. Maybe she was stupid, but she didn't understand what went on in the minds of those who decided what was a crime and what was not. There were so many evil people around who did much worse things. The robbers who killed her parents. Nightstalker. Strygwyr. The serial murderers that Detective Morphia had told her about. Since when was love a crime?
"I'm very sorry to disturb, but is Traxex here?" A woman's voice rang out.
Hearing something that sounded like her name, she glanced up to see a plump lady at the door. It was Mrs Arachnie, the school secretary. Traxex pulled out her earphones, wondering if she had heard wrongly.
"Traxex?"
It was really her name. She stood up hesitantly and walked towards the door. What's going on? An ominous feeling of dread crept into her.
"Darling, Miss Akasha wants to talk to you," the motherly secretary spoke in a soft and serious tone. "Come with me."
At the mention of the Head of Discipline, a spike of anxiety shot through her. Did Carl tell Miss Akasha about what I'd done? Biting her lip, she trailed behind Mrs Arachnie, her trepidation increasing with every step.
On the way, she passed by Nortrom, who looked right through her as usual. He suddenly turned back towards her.
"Where are you going?" he asked sharply. "Aren't you supposed to be in class now?"
"She's been called into Miss Akasha's office," Mrs Arachnie explained to the math teacher.
"For what reason?"
So Miss Akasha hasn't told him. Traxex felt his eyes on her, but she didn't dare to meet his gaze. "I… I have no idea."
After a few seconds' pause, Nortrom turned and walked off, and she felt like she could breathe again.
When they had reached the outside of the Head of Discipline's office, the secretary gave Traxex a kind and somewhat sympathetic smile before retreating to her desk. Lifting a hand tentatively, Traxex knocked on the door.
"Come in, dear," a husky, yet deeply feminine voice spoke.
She turned the knob and opened the door.
It was obvious that Miss Akasha loved the color black. Every single piece of furniture in her office was in this color, from the couch to the shelves, to the lacquered desk and the antique lamp that seemed to grow out of the table. The heavy curtains were also jet-black, and were closed except for a strip revealing the snow outside. The room was very spacious, almost twice as large as Nortrom's.
Traxex shut the door carefully and ventured a couple of steps across the gray-carpeted floor.
Upon seeing her, the Head of Discipline rose from her chair. Her voluptuous figure was wrapped in a tight-fitting maroon dress with a cut-out at the neckline revealing a triangle of cleavage. Netted dark stockings with bat-like shadows clung to her long, supple legs that ended with a pair of six-inch stilettos. Her straight ebony hair was tied back, showing dangling silver earrings.
Parting her glossy crimson lips, Akasha spoke. "You are Traxex, I suppose?"
"Yes," she replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the lampshade on the desk.
Akasha sauntered towards her, hips swaying. "It has been brought to my attention that you broke into another student's locker and tried to steal his belongings." She said all this in a level tone, rolling out each syllable slowly and clearly.
Traxex made no reply, suddenly conscious of her own breathing. She remembered all too clearly the public spanking that Akasha had delivered with such relish on her four classmates.
"Stealing is not something we take lightly here." Akasha stopped in front of her. "Fortunately for you, we do not spank girls in this school."
Despite the seemingly merciful words, Traxex doubted she would get off lightly. She stood quietly with her head bowed like a convict awaiting her sentence.
"However, you will still need to bear the consequences of your actions. As for the method of punishment, it will be tailored according to what suits you." Her blood-red lips curled into a smile.
Traxex shuddered at the cruelty dripping from the words, which sounded like silken venom sliding off a dagger. Hands on her hips, Akasha contemplated her for the next few minutes, as if waiting for her to say something.
"Why do I not hear a single word of remorse from you?" she suddenly demanded, her voice rising in a crescendo and ending the sentence with a strident bark.
Traxex flinched involuntarily. The teacher's shrill voice was making her eardrums vibrate strongly, just like that time she'd made her speech in the auditorium. At close proximity it was unbearable. Glancing up apprehensively to meet the woman's dark, smoldering eyes, Traxex forced her lips to form the word, "sorry".
Her uncomfortable expression drew a smirk from Akasha. "Another one who's hypersensitive to sound, eh? Looks like I've found the best way to inflict pain on you."
She sounds really sick in the head. Pulse racing, Traxex began to inch backwards.
"Well, let's see," Akasha's voice had softened to its usual sultry, contralto quality. She went back to her desk, slid open the drawer and took something out. It was a shiny dagger, about twelve inches long, with a serrated blade and a golden hilt inlaid with gemstones.
A… a dagger? Traxex backed off a little more, her stomach clenching. She's not going to use that on me, is she?
"Stop right there! I did not give you permission to move!" Akasha shouted, her voice slicing through Traxex's eardrums like rusty knives. The sonic assault had left an unpleasant buzzing inside her ears. Should I, or should I not… Heart thumping against her ribcage, Traxex closed her eyes, mind whirling as she pressed her back against the door.
"Don't you dare try to leave the room," Akasha threatened.
Eyes snapping open, Traxex unleashed her Gust. Akasha skidded backwards, hitting her backside against the edge of her desk with a thud. The discipline mistress's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish out of water as she struggled to right herself. Her eyes turned the color of molten lava, reminding Traxex of how Strygwyr's eyes had glowed when he'd tried to escape from the Selemene Foundation Hospital. Carl must have given her the Dire stone, like what he'd done with Strygwyr. She's gone mad. She's going to kill me. Traxex turned the doorknob.
THUD!
Something flew past her and hit the door just inches away from her face. Her heart shot into her mouth when she realized it was the dagger, its tip embedded in the door. Did she… did she just throw a freaking dagger at me?
By now, Akasha had gotten back her speech faculties. "How dare you do this to me! Don't you know who I am?! I will make you PAY!" Her grating voice rose to a terrifying scream that seemed to rend one's soul apart.
Traxex felt nausea surge in her and her legs weakening. She had no idea what this woman's real identity was, but it was clear she was mentally unsound.
She spun around trying to open the door again, but in the blink of an eye, Akasha had closed the distance between them, grabbing her hair and yanking it back forcefully. One perfectly manicured hand wrapped around the hilt of the dagger that was still jammed into the door.
Behind her, the sound emerging from Akasha's throat had changed in quality yet again, to something soft and sinister. "So, it seems you dislike my voice."
Traxex didn't dare make a single movement. The ringing in her ears had subsided a little but was still there.
"Well, since my voice makes you sick," she whispered, drawing a shudder, and not in a sexy way. The fragrance of her perfume was almost suffocating. "Let me cure you of your… affliction. Once I'm done, you will never – again – hear anything you do not wish to hear." A low chuckle emerged from her throat, swelling into a maniacal laugh.
"Now, be a good girl and stay still."
Traxex began to hyperventilate. The crazy woman sounded like she was going to burst her eardrums. But Traxex couldn't see what she was doing, trapped between Akasha and the door. She could only feel her hair being pulled back painfully and the cold sharpness of the blade against her throat. "Please, don't," she pleaded, her legs barely able to hold her up.
Nortrom
Nortrom headed for his remedial class, his irritation raised a notch. Akasha hadn't had the courtesy to inform him before disciplining one of his students, but that was hardly surprising. Being an actual queen meant she could get away with virtually anything, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.
Shendelzare was there. Her math paper was full of red Xs and it was disappointing that her grades had plunged from A to F. Mortred and Magina were there as well, which was expected. However, what truly disturbed him was the burn mark on the back of Shendel's hand - a possible sign of self-harm. It looked like it had been there for a while; he must have been so caught up with the exams that he'd missed it.
"Shendelzare. Could you step outside with me for a moment?" he asked at the end of class.
The spiky-haired girl glanced up at him and stood up. Her eyes held the nonchalance of a rebel, but under that lackadaisical attitude, he could sense that there was something not quite right. He led her to a quiet spot at the end of the hallway and began to enquire about the burn mark on her hand.
"Did you do this to yourself?" he asked, trying not to sound harsh.
"Yeah." Shendelzare replied. She looked strangely proud of herself.
"What made you do it? Did something happen?"
"Oh, I did this at the Holy Knight's Church of Penitence," she explained. "It's something we have to do to get converted."
What? The Holy Knight again?! Aghast wasn't enough to describe what he felt at the moment. Those religious fanatics weren't just spreading bullshit, but encouraging self-harm!
"Where exactly is the church?"
"Um... I have no idea. I was blindfolded when they brought me there the first time, because it's a secret place." She made it sound like all fun and games, like being brought to a mystery haunted house or something.
"And what happens after that?"
"Oh, once we're converted, we can get teleported instantly into the church, from anywhere," Shendelzare replied. Her expression was all seriousness, without a hint of jest in it.
He gaped in disbelief. "Teleported instantly?"
"Yeah, anytime, anywhere that the Holy Knight wants us to be there."
A deep frown crossed his brows. He'd initially thought the Cult of Penitence was just another one of those… cults. But this Holy Knight was apparently a lot more powerful than the regular shit-faced cult leader, if what Shendelzare said was true.
Taking a deep breath, he said. "Shendelzare, there are proper channels to go to if you're feeling stressed or upset. Like the school counselor, Mr Dazzle. You do know that, right?"
His question was met with a reticent shrug.
"And your parents, do they know about this?"
"They're kinda busy... anyway, they can't stop me even if they wanted to. This is my life."
Nortrom restrained himself from starting an argument with her. The girl had sunk in so deeply, he doubted anything he said right now would matter. He wasn't even sure if talking to her parents would help, but he had to try, when he could find the time.
Walking along the hallway, he thought about the burn mark. How many others had done the same? Even without the cult's influence, self-harm among students was something he witnessed every now and then, and he had sent a number of victims for counselling. Those teenagers usually came from broken homes, dysfunctional families and suffered from abuse or serious emotional problems.
Self-disgust suddenly hit him.
Traxex was one of those students - orphaned and neglected; in her innocence she had looked to him for the unconditional love she was deprived of. He had known this all along, but he'd welcomed, even encouraged her advances. All this wasn't her fault – it was never the student's fault. The fault was his and his alone. Perhaps... he was no less of a creep than the Holy Knight.
Descending the stairs, he glanced at his watch - an hour had gone by. Was she still in Akasha's office?
Truthfully, his intentions had been somewhat pure at the start. She was like a fragile white lily that needed to be nurtured and protected. But somewhere along the way, lust got the better of him, and then other feelings came into the picture, mixing up everything and leading to this mess. He couldn't reverse everything, but he couldn't let things continue downhill either. He could only shut her out completely and hope that time would lessen the yearning and frustration.
Wait - what if she, too got converted and began harming herself? What if she, too, got teleported away? In her emotionally vulnerable state, she was the perfect prey for the cult.
He whipped out his phone. No way he was going to let that bullshit Father Chen get near her.
Crossing the lobby towards the staff room, he began drafting a text message when he suddenly felt unwell.
She was in trouble.
He could feel her fear and panic roaring through his veins, which coursed with her blood. It was like the time she was almost chopped to pieces by Pudge, but now there was also a strange buzzing in his ears, which he supposed were in her ears as well.
What the hell is happening and where are you? Clutching his files, Nortrom closed his eyes and visualized the layout of the main building. She had been called in by Akasha, so she was most likely still in there. Maintaining constant concentration, he formed a tenuous map of the second floor and its rooms, not quite expecting the wave of giddiness that accompanied him. But he had never attempted Global Silence in this manner in school. From where he stood, the distance to Akasha's office was around fifty feet; he wasn't sure how much effort was needed for remote mind control of this range.
However, he had to do this properly, and fast. As his mind's eye scanned for the entity that was causing trouble, pressure began to build up in his temples.
It appeared. A vision of Akasha opening her cavernous, red mouth. The woman was sucking in a deep breath, her eyes burning with hellfire. Her bosom expanded dramatically as she inhaled, like an opera soprano preparing to belt out her high note.
Time to shut that mouth.
His focus shifted to Akasha's brain, with its geography lit up in different colors. Traveling across its valleys and peaks, scanning the left cerebral hemisphere, the frontal lobe, he arrived at the targeted Brocas area where speech function resided. He applied slight pressure on the bundle of nerves there, preventing the impulses from getting to her vocal cords. Sparks flashed before his eyes from the intense mental exertion.
It worked. He saw the frustration in Akasha's eyes, the subsequent vague flurry of movements by both parties. And the sense of relief that followed, that was soon overtaken by a growing, familiar headache. Leaning against a pillar, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. At least she was safe from Akasha's grasp for now.
"Are you alright, sir? Do you need help?"
Opening his eyes, he saw Dragonus handing him a couple of files which he didn't realize he had dropped.
"Thanks," he said through clenched teeth. The headache clung to him and the painkillers were in his office. He walked unsteadily towards the stairs and up to the second floor. Fortunately, no one was there to bombard him with more drama. He quickly slipped into his office, incredibly relieved that he had his own space to retreat into. Once inside he threw his things on the floor, slammed the door shut and locked it. Rubbing his throbbing temples, he staggered to his desk. What he saw made his chest tighten.
There was a lock of hair lying on his desk. It was the color of winter. He picked up the translucent stands, recognizing their smell. Underneath was a note with the handwritten words:
With Regards, from Akasha.
"What the fuck is the meaning of this?!" He cursed out loud, crushing the piece of paper. He was no stranger to Akasha's antics, but this time the bitch had gone too far. Just because you're the goddamned queen, you think nothing of dragging my student into your room, dishing out your own sick punishment, and to top it off you inform me by leaving a lock of her hair on my desk!
Another wave of headache reminded him to rummage for the painkillers. He found them and popped two pills, downing them with a glass of water. He slumped against his chair and waited for the medication took effect. Time crawled by and eventually he was felt well enough to sort out his thoughts. There was so much trouble brewing that the school was becoming a battleground in itself. He needed to focus on the battles that he had control over - those that didn't involve billionaire parents and colleagues from royalty. But right now, his brain was crying out for a break. He needed a break.
The lock of white hair was still on his desk. He stared at it absently for a while, and then he fished out an empty envelope from somewhere. Carefully, he placed the hair, every strand of it, inside the envelope, and then tucked it inside the lowest drawer.
Swirling his chair around, he parted the curtains, gazing out of the window at the wintry scene that calmed him down considerably. The snowflakes descended quietly on a blanket of pure white. They were nice to look at, but he knew if he tried to hold one in his hand, it would melt. That was how delicate they were. He had once thought of catching a snowflake and keeping it forever. There was a way to do this, but then it would have to be tainted with chemicals. Perhaps the flakes were meant to be appreciated like this – only from afar.
(End of Chapter 51)
Father Chen - Holy Knight
Akasha - Queen of Pain
Nortrom - Silencer
Traxex - Drow
Arachnie – Broodmother
Shendelzare – Vengeful Spirit
Carl - Invoker
Rylai - Crystal Maiden
Atropos - Bane Elemental
Proselytiser – neutral creep, maybe? lol
Coming up in the next few chapters:
What will happen to Mortred and Magina? What's the next spell that Carl will learn? What will Traxex do about her obsession with her teacher? What will be the outcome of Chen vs. Silencer?
Stay tuned! :)
