IIIIIIII Ember IIIIIIII

Ember's Stiletto's are the only sound in the Archives. It's dimly lit, and books line the walls, displaying every witch and fairy in the magic dimension. There's only a few students, and they all make an effort to glare at her.

Pathetic, she thinks. Everyone is quick to ostracize someone who doesn't look like the group, and Ember's appearance is everything but a witch. But isn't that the fun part- tricking people because of their presuppositions? No one ever wanted to actually progress witch society; they'd rather talk about the glory days of witches than actually do something to add to history today. It was a waste of potential, and Headmistress Griffin did nothing to help with it. Weren't schools supposed to help advance the minds of its' students?

No matter though. Ember was going to take matters into her own hands, and she never minded asking for help.

But Ember doesn't have a lot to go on to ask for the help. A dark-headed girl who's both a witch and a fairy; and the name 'Scarlet.' Absurd. It has to be a witch pretending to be a fairy. Perhaps the girl is undercover for some reason? Either way, it's a very curious thing, and Ember wants in.

The power of illusions is fickle. Take Myrta- a witch who barely got in to Cloud Tower. Her emotions keep her illusions going, and it's only based on visuals. She's the laughing stock of her year, and her abilities are useless unless you want a quick scare.

But this power- this one is on an entirely different level. If Ember hadn't altered Runa's aura, that witch would have gotten away with it. The mysterious girl could prove a useful ally, and Ember could coerce her to help once she knew why the girl was undercover at Alfea. Perhaps she was advancing witchcraft in her own way.

Ember stops in the center of the room. An enchanted stand juts out from the hardwood floor. Its edges look so sharp that it could cut. Burning candles float around, yet the wax never drips. It smells musty, and lightning flashes outside the window.

Why do witches have to have everything look so dreary for aesthetic's sake?

She shakes her head as thunder crackles.

Absurd, she thinks again.

Her right hand now glows pink, and she recites the words for the locator spell. There's a hum of magic, and she hears books pulling themselves out of the shelves.

This shouldn't be too difficult now. After all, how many witches named Scarlet could there be?

IIIIIIII Scarlet IIIIIIII

"Ugh, I hate Metamora- metamorfa- ugh, I can't even pronounce it!" Trish drops her head on the desk and sighs. "How am I going to pass this class?"

I scribble in my notebook, copying the textbook and wondering if I know what I'm writing. Nope. No idea. We had been here for three hours, and it had taken us one hour just to actually open the book.

"Here, let's make this interesting," Trisha says as she raises her head. "How about you show me a pic of Kal, and I'll try to morph my face into his."

"No," I grimace. "That's just creepy."

She blows air up from her lips, and her bangs move. She rests her elbows on the table and says, "Just ask him to take a selfie and send it! Have you even texted him anything besides good morning?"

I glance down at my phone. I've wanted to text Kal, but what do I have interesting to say? It's not like I've had anyone to text before.

Suddenly, there's a hum, and I frown. It's coming from around us, and some fairies gives us looks. Trish and I exchange glances, but the noise only grows louder. Heels click softly toward us as we rummage around the table, looking for the cause of it. Another hum, but it's not coming from my phone. Did someone enchant something around us?

"Ladies, what is that noise? May I remind you that this is a library?" The librarian crosses her arms.

I can hear a few girls giggling. Great. It'll be just another thing for them to talk about.

I clear my throat. "I'm sorry ma'am, we'll take care of it right away."

But the humming sound hasn't lessened, and suddenly, something moves out of the corner of my eye.

"Um, your bag." Trish whispers with wide eyes.

"Ladies?" The librarian tilts her glasses farther down her nose.

I hurriedly shut my notebook and grab my textbooks, replying, "Yes, sorry, we'll take care of it."

My bag jerks, and the librarian raises an eyebrow as I grab it.

"Is there something going on that you would like to share with me?"

"Of course not, ma'am," I smile and stand. It jerks against my grip, and I stumble forward.

I realize too late I'm making a scene. Papers have stopped rustling. And fairies are whispering. Crap crap crap.

Before the librarian can say something else, I gesture at Trish and bolt for the double doors as gracefully as possible. Thankfully I make it through, but Trish isn't behind me. My body is still tense, and I manage to take a deep breath.

My bag jerk again, and my textbooks and notes clatter to the ground. What the heck is going on?

I plop down on the floor and wrap my legs around my bag, rooting it in place. Carefully, I unbuckle the strap and pull it open. A large book shoots out from it and flies down the hallway.

Oh no. That's the book I stole from Cloud Tower!

Forgetting my bag and textbooks, I bolt up and sprint down the hall. Girls yell as I push pass them. I'm heading toward the main hallway, and the book is just a few feet ahead. Someone must have put a location spell on it.

This isn't good. If I don't grab it before it makes it out the door, I'm screwed.