Omen of a Bluebell

My mind kicks into overdrive, thinking through all the possible outcomes of him finding out about System Waker.

Because he will find out about it, if I want Cari to live out her dream. I have no doubt that if he refuses to let me attend, the offer for her to attend freely would also be revoked.

“So what will it be?” he presses, leaning forward just enough to make my pulse spike.

A knock at the door saves me.

I turn to face my hero, and Headmistress Selenia steps in like she owns the whole damn Academy, a tea tray balanced effortlessly in her hands. The door closes itself behind her with a soft click.

“Apologies for the delay,” she says cheerfully. “The Princess needed a few adjustments to her accommodations. And I brought tea—”

Her voice cuts off as she stops halfway into the room, sensing the tension. Her eyes narrow as she looks between us, then fixes her glare on the Headmaster. He visibly withers under her gaze, shrinking into his chair.

She strides across the office, the click of her heels slicing straight through the silence, and sets the tray on his desk with a clatter, her eyes never leaving him.

Her hands land on her hips as she takes on an imperious pose, inhaling slowly through her nose.

“Kophis, that is enough,” she says, her voice cracking like a whip.

He flinches, and the pressure in the room vanishes instantly, like someone opened a window.

“Sorry, dear. You know how protective I get when I’m being thorough…” he says, actually sounding chastised.

He still shoots me a narrow-eyed look. Not angry, but measuring and cautious.

She lets out a weary sigh, then starts preparing the tea.

“I know, my love. But you’re being intense, again. Here, drink this,” she says, handing him a cup filled with a light blue liquid.

The other two cups are filled with silver and pinkish liquid, and she hands me the silver one. Then she sits on the desk and crosses one elegant leg over the other before taking the pink tea for herself.

I look between the cups and the kettle, tilting my head in confusion.

She poured it all from the same kettle, so… what?

I check the kettle with Relic Whisperer.

Nothing.

I check my cup.

Also nothing.

She smirks at me over the edge of her teacup before taking a sip and letting out a contented sigh. The Headmaster takes a sip of his own as well, and seems to relax into his chair the moment he does.

When she leans back on the desk, propping herself up with one arm, he gives her an adoring look that I just barely catch. With the incongruity of his personality, I shouldn’t be surprised by just how much care I saw there, but I am.

“Where were we, then?” she asks between sips.

He sighs. “I was impressing upon her the importance of our Status reviews.”

“Ah,” she says, her voice slightly muted by the cup.

I give the tea in my hands a cautious sniff. There's a rich floral aroma, with hints of something like cinnamon tickling my nose. Sense Danger doesn’t give me anything, though, so I take a small sip.

The flavor settles on my tongue like a warm blanket. Vanilla. Cinnamon. A little sweet, and a little smoky, but so, so smooth.

My shoulders and tail relax, muscles I hadn’t even known I was tensing finally ending their long-suffering vigilance, and I almost slump to the floor then and there from sheer relaxation. Only the risk of spilling this heavenly tea stops me from doing just that.

At the same time, my mind is overwhelmed with clarity. Hints of a memory tickle at the back of my mind, of pale blue, endless echoes. Nothing concrete, but an idea sprouts into existence of its own volition.

Suddenly, I know what I can do to win out here.

Trick.

If he’s this intense over the mere risk of someone causing harm to his students… I can use that.

Absolute worst case scenario, he just kills me. I have no doubts at all that he’d find a way to manage it, even through my absurd Mind, Body, Soul Skill.

But if I’m a student proper, he’ll help me. I just have to go about this carefully.

A strange pressure hums at the base of my skull, nudging me forwards. It gives me direction, and I know that I need to speak.

And that I must be very, very specific.

My own thoughts start to feel too wordy. Fae Ferocity and instinct trim them down, pushing out anything that isn’t important or true to myself.

“You promise,” I say carefully, “that neither I nor my friends will be harmed, detained, or targeted by any member of the Academy’s staff, faculty, or affiliates—directly or indirectly—due to my Status or what I reveal today?”

His eyes sharpen. “Of course. I don’t allow my students to be threatened.”

Something inside me settles, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. But it’s not the only one. It’s just the first.

I need more.

“And,” I continue, “you promise that my enrollment won’t be used as an excuse to restrict my movement or independence. No extra rules. No special oversight. Nothing beyond what every other student deals with.”

Selenia straightens at that, her face going grim. Wary.

He scoffs, offended at the implication of my statement. “That’s a given. I have no interest in shackling students.”

Another piece settles into place. But there’s still something missing.

A little more.

I form my need into words.

“And,” I say softly, “when I seek justice for my clan, you will give me one meaningful act of assistance. Something beyond normal Academy support. Not advice. Not a hint. Real help.”

Both of them narrow their eyes at me.

“And why would I do that?” he asks. “I don’t see a reason I would do something just because you want to keep a few little secrets.”

This is it. The last piece. I can feel it pressing down on me, even as my heart rattles against my chest, as if trying to escape its cage.

There’s no room for embellishment. No room for anything that tastes wrong on my tongue.

The words must be true. They must fit. They must belong.

But they can be open, this time.

They come to me as easily as the rest.

“Because my Status,” I say slowly, “is worth Omens.”

He stares at me for a moment, then laughs. Loud, boisterous, and as genuine as I’ve ever heard from anyone. The idea is apparently so ridiculous to him that it’s funny, and he goes on and on for nearly half a minute before he notices that Selenia hasn’t so much as twitched.

She simply watches me.

He stops laughing so abruptly it’s like he chokes on the sound.

“Wait, she’s serious?” he asks her.

She stares, eyes unblinking, and nods. His attention snaps back onto me, eyes wide with surprise.

Then he grins.

“Well, well… I’m a Scholar at heart, you see. You’ve piqued my interest. Very well! So long as you don’t expect me to personally enact your vengeance, I can agree to those conditions,” he says through a smile.

The moment he agrees, the final piece falls into place in my soul with a resounding click that only I can hear. At the same time, the instinctual urging fades, Fae Ferocity deactivates, and the thundering of my heart slows.

I hear Selenia gasp, and she starts to speak.

Then I lose her words as mana leaves me in great rivers, emptying my tail, my pool, and pulling from my regeneration, draining me completely in an instant.

It flows through the room, stopping between the two of us, where another source meets it.

Only then do I see even more coming from the Headmaster himself, an ocean of blinding blue spilling from him in unfathomable torrents, collecting and mingling with my own.

It condenses itself into a ball, then again to become even smaller still, over and over. The room seems to bend inwards, towards the thing, and both the Headmaster and Headmistress openly gape at the forming ball of mana.

Then it’s done, and the room snaps back to proper shape as if nothing happened at all.

Except now, a perfectly smooth sphere of the purest blue I’ve ever seen floats through the air towards me, then drops when its just within arms reach. I catch it on reflex, unable to look away.

I activate Relic Whisperer, but instead of the usual instant Notice full of details—or the lack thereof—the familiar pale blue window appears and seems to slowly fill itself out, letter by letter. It takes several seconds, with pauses after each letter—as if the System itself is deliberating.

Then it’s done.

Faen Oath Stone

That’s all it gives me. Despite that, I know what it is to me.

Raw mana condensed into visual form. A representation of the deal we just struck. Our agreement made manifest.

And I can feel its inevitability. It’s… realness.

The information just sits there in the back of my mind. Almost like the knowledge the System grants about the Skills it gives, and also not. It’s more me.

With a thought, I dismiss it. Not to my storage, but elsewhere. Just as effortlessly, I will it back into existence, and it’s there, in the palm of my hand again.

I can tell that it’s not an actual, physical thing…

Well it is, but it isn’t. I can touch it because it’s a part of me. Or something like that?

I find myself tilting my head this way and that as I try to analyze the thing, my earrings tinkling away as I do. Selenia titters, breaking me from my staring contest with the blue stone.

When I look up to meet her gaze, she turns to the Headmaster and says, “You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t expect that.”

One hand holds her teacup up to her mouth to hide her smirk, and the other aims an immaculate nail right at the small orb in my hand.

He sputters wordlessly for a moment, staring between her and the blue orb in my palm. “How in all the hells was I supposed to know she’s a baby true fae?! She has a Status!”

She quirks a brow at him.

He seems about to object again, then gives up and grumbles into his teacup, the sound landing somewhere between irritation and long-suffering fondness. Selenia turns back to me, her smile now anything but gentle.

A predator sits on the desk before me, and her fangs are bared in all their glory.

“I believe you owe my husband something, young lady.”

I startle at the tone of her voice, all stern and matronly as it is, and it's exactly the kick in the ass I needed.

Just as I know about the Oath Stone, I know that it isn’t truly in effect until I fulfill my end of the bargain.

I quickly share my full Status with him.

He takes another sip and glowers at the notice that appears before his eyes. Then he stiffens, and all hells break loose.

The room explodes with magic.

He vanishes into a puff of feathers, his strange teleportation activating to whisk him away before I can so much as blink. Just as quickly, a dizzying array of magic circles and symbols begin carving themselves into the world around us.

They fill the room, occupying every bit of available space and often intersecting with one another as they come into existence at random angles. Some even appear intersecting with my body, phasing right through me harmlessly as the circles are built into more and more complex patterns.

My Sense Danger isn’t active though, so I know that he isn’t trying to harm me.

...Probably.

Besides that, I can tell that the deal we struck is finally active now that I’ve shared my Status in full. It sits in the back of my mind like a word I’d forgotten, only now I remember it.

Gods, that's weird.

A deafening sound cracks through the room barely a full second later, like shattering glass, but right inside my ears.

At the same time, the circles flash with light, then vanish into motes of mana as several hundred barriers appear encasing both Selenia and I. Even more phase into existence around the room itself.

The instant panic begins tickling my mind, the Headmaster reappears in another puff of feathers just behind his chair, only this time there’s another person standing—

Wait, no… they’re floating.

They’re dressed in all black, floating next to the Headmaster with dozens of mana circles placed all throughout their body, seemingly restraining them.

The Headmaster glares at me, his emerald eyes brighter now than ever before.

I just stand there, my mouth agape, stunned by the display of power.

Then he heaves a great, defeated sigh, and falls backwards. A magic circle appears in the air to catch him, and he floats there, limply.

Selenia tisks loudly at the sight of the stranger. “I was so close to finding out who sent him. Did we have to catch him now?”

The Headmaster groans as he sits up on his floating circle.

“You can thank the girl,” he grouses, rubbing his face with both hands. Then he looks to me. “Let me guess. You want an explanation?”

I offer a hesitant nod, now thoroughly confused.

He turns to his wife, a pleading look on his face. She sighs.

“Yes, alright. Well, Miss Emilia, every year, without fail, someone likes to think they’re clever,” she begins, sounding every bit the educator. “They send infiltrators that act like promising students, but are actually here to report on or poach growing talents and waste everyone's time.”

She sends the spy a withering glare at that, and I nod along mechanically.

“Some of the more nefarious ones use enchanted mana copiers to snatch the mana recordings from the Student ID’s the moment the recording is made,” she says, then pauses.

She watches me expectantly for a moment, like she's waiting for me to absorb the information.

It only takes me a second.

They got my full Status the moment I imprinted onto the ID.

...Fuck.

The idea that someone can even do that makes my tail bristle. I’m not sure how far my anonymity granted by the System Waker Title will go, but I somehow doubt it will have any effect on mana recordings themselves.

I don’t really want to test the Title’s limits, either way.

“I see you understand. Now, normally we’d find out who sent them, then ban them and their offspring or affiliated parties from attending Elderwynd, that sort of thing," she says, waving a hand dismissively.

She takes a sip of her tea, seeming far too relaxed.

“But…” she says, pausing to sip her tea before her eyes bore into me over the teacup, "I haven’t found out who sent this one yet. Do you know what that means?”

I shake my head, suddenly feeling like a rabbit in a snare.

“It means I’m going to have a long week reorganizing my counter-intelligence team,” she complains, but there’s no heat in it. She waves a hand at the infiltrator. “I had this one almost talking.”

I wince at that, my ears tucking back. Then I say the dumbest thing I’ve said all day.

“Sorry.”

She just waves away my concerns.

“Not your fault, dear. You do have dreadful timing, though.”

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