Chapter 1 – A Long Time Ago in A Galaxy Far, Far Away

"Shâsot, tyûk, midwan, asha! Shâsotjontû ia nuyak, Louise Françoise de Blanc de La Vallière, tyûk ro Qyâsik ia kifyit ka nun! Midwansisjontû, kotswinot itsu nuyak! Nedrissis nû qyâ nu wonen ka châtsatul asha nun razut!"

Professor Jean Colbert could not help but stare, transfixed at the smouldering crater, those harsh and alien words playing over and over again in his mind. Even an hour later, after getting those students cleared out, either sending them to the infirmary or their dorms, he was still reeling from what he saw… what he felt. Colbert wasn't even sure he understood what he saw. Unease set within his being, everything about this… incident felt wrong, unnatural.

Had this been a simple magical phenomenon, he would have been ecstatic about the event, to learn as much as he could about it—but this wasn't some simple phenomenon. Students were injured, no, worse, one was missing. Louise de La Vallière, gone, whisked away or even killed by whatever spell she cast. What made it worse, was it was on his watch.

Guilt.

It was like a twisted dagger in his heart. He should have done something about it. He should have acted when the students began spitting their vile insults and jeers. He should have acted when she began chanting in that unknown tongue. Instead, he stood idly, and those around him paid the price.

Jean tore his eyes from the crater and looked to the Headmaster. Osmond had arrived on the scene without so much as a question, had helped get the students out of danger and now, he was staring stone-faced at the crater before him, assessing it.

Osmond looked tired, leaning on his staff like a crutch.

"What happened here?" he asked, his usual playful, borderline senile character replaced with steel. There was a reason he was called Osmond the Varden.

"I don't know," Jean replied. "We were performing the Springtime Summoning. Miss Vallière then stepped up to summon." He paused, an uncomfortable twisting in his gut as he recalled the event. "It failed…"

Osmund turned his head to Jean, his brow furrowed. "Are you telling me that her explosion caused this?" He gestured to the large, perfectly circular crater, roughly ten mails wide and four mails deep.

Jean shook his head. 'No, nothing happened when she cast the spell. Nothing. It was as if she hadn't cast a spell at all. She did that after…"

"How?"

Jean sighed. He didn't want to relive whatever he saw, but he knew he needed to. "After she failed the summoning ritual, she... she broke down crying. The other students… how they acted was foul. The things they said would have been enough to spark a blood feud between the Vallière's and half the school." He took a breath. "I tried to get her out of the situation, to take her to you, but before I could, she… she changed. It was like she was possessed. She moved to the centre of the pentagram and began to chant, but her voice was not her own. I don't know whether I am remembering this wrong or what, but when she began whatever incantation that was, it sounded like another was speaking with her.

"Do you remember the incantation? Do you recognise any of the words?" Osmond pressed.

"I remember it as if it were seared into my brain, Headmaster," Jean answered, "but I don't recognise any of the words. Shasote, tieuck, mihdwahn, ah-shah? I think those were the first words. Um… shasote joontoo ea neeyuka…?" he continued, trying his best to pronounce the words he heard as accurately as possible. Once he finished, he waited to hear the Headmaster's thoughts.

However, the Headmaster did not say anything. Instead, Osmond turned back to the crater, pulled free his wand hidden in his robes and crawled into the crater, using his staff to steady himself down. Colbert watched, first confused and then with understanding as the Headmaster began flourishing his wand like an orchestra's conductor, the mutters of spells leaving his lips quickly and precisely.

After a few moments, Osmond stopped, looking at the crater with worry and confusion. He visibly shivered and quickly left the crater. "We should take this discussion to my office."

Jean was about to question him, however, before he made his confusion known, he acceded to the Headmaster's decision.

...

"Miss Longueville," Osmond called upon entering his office, startling the secretary who had been writing a letter at her desk, "could you please collect some of the staff to guard the crater in Norðri court. I do not want anyone, servant, student or staff to enter or go near it."

"Yes, Lord Osmond," Miss Longueville replied swiftly. Immediately she began tidying her workstation, packing away her quill and inkwell before sanding her letter. Once done, she took her letter and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Now alone, Osmond moved behind his desk, slumping down in his large leather desk chair. An uncomfortable silence passed as neither occupants in the room spoke—the Headmaster seemingly lost in thought while Jean stood awkwardly, unsure if he should speak.

However, before any could make an attempt to break the silence, Osmond tilted his head, confused, before he pushed the chair back and took a look beneath his desk.

"Mótsognir, you had me worried!" he suddenly exclaimed, and with a slight tap of his staff upon the ground and a short incantation, he cast the levitation spell. A few seconds later, a white mouse floated up into the air before the aged man. Plucking it out of the air, he held the mouse up in his palm, watching inquisitively as the rodent squeaked at him.

As the mouse continued to squeak, however, he began to frown, soon replying to the mouse. "Do not worry, Mótsognir, I forgive you. I'll try and make sure that it doesn't happen again. For now, rest. I have to speak with Professor Colbert."

He opened one of the draws in his desk and plopped the mouse down inside before returning his attention to Jean.

"What did he say?" Jean asked.

"It seems animals are much more attuned to whatever magic Miss Vallière used. Before the ritual was complete, Mótsognir was acting out, he was scared, terrified." Osmond became quiet for a moment. "He bit me and fled."

Jean rose an eyebrow at that. The only time familiars have ever been reported hurting their masters was when mistreated or by accident during the early post-summoning days. He shook his head. "I remember familiars fleeing from the court while Louise was chanting, some even tried to drag their masters to safety, but the others just fled. What does this mean?"

"I don't know," Osmond said, confusion written in the creases of his face, "but when I stood in that crater… it was strange. I felt cold, the air, thin. It was unnatural."

"Do you have any idea what kind of magic she might have used?" Jean asked.

Osmond shook his head. "None, none at all."

Jean frowned. "You don't think she might have used First-born magic, do you?"

"First-born?" Osmond shook his head. "No. In my youth, I've encountered First-born magic, but from what I've learned, that magic is one with nature—it has never given off such feelings of wrongness as I felt earlier today. No, whatever this is, it's not First-born." He paused, seemingly ageing an extra fifty or so years where he sat. "Jean, I feel it in my bones. This won't simply end here. The Crown will want answers, perhaps the Church will get in involved… not even mentioning that we will have to inform the Duke and Duchess Vallière about what happened to their daughter. For now, the best we can do is try to create the clearest picture we can of what happened, make sure misinformation won't spread, and try and find out what happened to Miss Vallière."

Jean nodded, scratching his chin as he thought about the work they would need to do. Yet, there was something still nagging in his mind. "Headmaster… what will we do about the students?"

"Your meaning, Professor?"

"We failed, Headmaster," Jean said with a tired sigh. "We failed as teachers and guardians to our students. We knew Miss Vallière was somewhat of a social pariah, but what I saw earlier today? We failed to protect our students. We tried to keep them safe by banning physical fights and duels, but we neglected the other ways our students could be hurt. I doubt that what I saw earlier today was the first instance of it and I doubt Miss Vallière was the only victim of this."

Osmond reclined back in his chair, steepling his fingers in contemplation. "I will organise an assembly to discuss what happened earlier today, to make sure everyone in the Academy knows what really happened without rumours tainting the truth. I'll make sure the bullying is addressed there. For now, I will need to get started on writing a letter to Miss Vallière's parents about what happened. As for you, I want you to return to your lab, write everything you remember and then get some rest."

"Headmaster…" Jean said. "if you will accept me, I will lead the research into what happened to Miss Vallière. She was my responsibility and I want to get to the bottom of this."

Osmond nodded. "If you want to do this, then I won't stop you. But first, I want you to write up a report on this and get some rest. After that, you'll have my support to research whatever you can."

"Thank you, Headmaster, I'll get to it" Jean replied and with that, he began to leave the room, only to stop at the doorway, sparing a morose look back to Osmond who was preparing to write the letter. Shaking his head, he left, wondering if the Academy would survive the inevitable fury of the Vallière Matriarch.

...

Kirche tested her ankle against the hard-wooden floorboard, slowly putting more and more weight on to her right foot. She could feel some pain spike, but it was little more than an ache compared to what it was earlier in the morning. She had to give it to the Healers, they knew their craft—though healing a simple sprained ankle was child's play compared to the other injuries they had to deal with today.

She cast her eyes around at the students in the Infirmary, frowning grimly. There had been roughly twenty students taking part in the Springtime Summoning Ritual and aside from six or seven, the rest were sitting inside the Infirmary. Fortunately, none were dead nor dying—Thank the Founder for that!—though, from the way Guiche was complaining about his broken arm, it sure sounded like he was. A few other students were in similar situations with sprained, fractured or broken bones, but from what she could see, everyone would make a full recovery at some point.

Tabitha had left, one of the few uninjured by… by…

Kirche sighed, sitting down hunched on one of the stools brought in due to the sudden influx of injured students. Even now, a few hours after the Summoning, she had no idea what actually happened. She could remember each and every moment as if it had only happened seconds ago, but even still she could not comprehend what had happened. It was like a vivid dream—no, more like a nightmare that stuck with you forever.

A hand fell on her shoulder, startling Kirche. Snapping her head to whomever it was, she found herself looking at the ever-empathetic face of Healer Marguerite the Sapphire, a tall bespectacled lady with short aquamarine hair tied into a messy bun. "Apologies," the Healer said, "but if you're feeling better, you're permitted to leave."

"Yes, thank you," Kirche replied quietly. Getting up, she tried her best to walk out of the Infirmary without showing signs that her injury still stung. She did not want to be in the Infirmary; hearing the whiny complaints of her fellow classmates was grating, especially those who brought up… Louise. She just wanted to be alone, with or without the pain.

However, she did not make it even halfway to her dorm before she found herself tackled to the ground by a familiar large red blob.

"Gah!" she cried, putting her hands up to try and get whatever creature who had tackled her off, only to realise that something long, wet and warm running up and down her face repeatedly. "Get off!" she continued. "Get off!"

The next second, she found the heavy, scaly weight slide off her chest, finally freeing her, allowing her to get a good look at the attacker, only to freeze, confused for a second.

"You!" she suddenly cried, wrapping her arms around the overgrown red lizard. "Where have you been? You just ran off! Are you alright?" she said, peppering the salamander with questions, only to be stopped when the large lizards renewed licking her face, chirping excitedly.

After a few moments, she pulled herself free from the salamander, getting to her feet. Quickly, she brushed off the dirt on her uniform and bent over to speak to the lizard. "You wanna come up to my room?" she asked eagerly.

The salamander nodded its head eagerly, understanding its master through its familiar bond. Smiling, she gestured for the beast to follow her back to her room.

Soon enough, she arrived at her door. Opening it wide, she allowed her new familiar to step inside before following suit. Closing the door, she pulled her wand free from its holster on her waist and summoned the key to her door, locking it shut.

Now, fairly sure nobody would barge in uninvited, Kirche began getting undressed. Off with the boots and off with the uniform, she wanted to change into something more comfortable than a school uniform—a simple and comfortable blueberry dress from Germania. Once done, she collapsed onto her bed.

Her bed rocked and rocked again when her salamander crawled up beside her.

She took a deep breath, absently patting the beast's side. This day was supposed to be a sort of coming of age for mages all over the Brimiric nations and then some—it was the day they would summon their familiar companions. Yet, this day had been nothing short of horrid.

She had been so excited when she saw the scaly hide of her familiar, but then she called out Louise who had yet to summon her own.

Kirche cringed at the memory… Louise breaking down crying, howling like a wounded pup.

She did not hate Louise, she never hated Louise. Louise was a rival, someone who challenged Kirche both with her quick tongue, brilliant mind and her undying persistence that almost always crossed the line into stubbornness. Har her magic actually worked, Kirche did not doubt that Louise would be top of the class.

When Louise stepped up to cast, Kirche wasn't sure what she was expecting. Part of her thought it was going to end like every other spell the pink-haired girl cast, but a small part of her hoped, desperately, that Louise would succeed and summon a familiar. Yet… what happened… she doubted anyone could have guessed that would have happened.

It was supposed to be harmless fun, trading barbs with her rival, continuing the family feud that had gone on since time in memorial. Now though? The thought she was behind Louise's suffering, even if partly, was a savage punch to the gut. Every memory she had of her bouts with Louise were now filled with bitterness and self-loathing. As if she didn't hate herself enough already.

And now? Now Louise was… Louise is… is…

"Is it all my fault?" Kirche asked aloud.

Nobody, not the gods nor even Founder Brimir answered.

AN: 1 mail = 0.7 meters. After a few days or so, I'll be moving this to the start of Act II or something like that... Nevertheless, I finally did it! I told you you'd get to see what happed on Halk!