---

---

---

---

Jake startled slightly, as the Barty approached him after his history lesson, eyeing him up and down. Something about the gaze made Jake shiver. He felt strangely warm in odd places. He asked him odd questions. How did he know that the statue was alive? How did he know about protection? Jake stared back at him blankly, reaching for words and concepts, and instead just finding inevitability, simplicity. He knew because he felt it. Couldn't they feel it? When he had fed the statue some of his magic, he felt it. It just was.

"I just... I just know," he answered. He didn't know any of the fancy names people had given to the rules or principles of magic. He didn't know how to explain this in a way that made sense. "I felt it. I felt him. Just like... Just like how you can feel the dirt in the greenhouse as you work with the plants, or how I could taste the horrible candy last night. Can you... can you not feel him?" He tilted his head, confused. Barty had given the statue some of his magic. Surely he would have been able to too? He was so much smarter and prettier and better than Jake, it didn't make sense that he could do something that Barty couldn't.

And then, Croan admonished him for what he had done. His eyes widened slightly. It was much like what Nicholas had said. He hadn't thought too deeply about it then - it hadn't made any sense to him, why would a protector need protecting? His role was to prevent danger. Danger couldn't then be a threat to him, too? But having it repeated, it forced him to slow down and consider it. Maybe putting himself in danger was bad. If he was in danger, he could get hurt. And if he were hurt, he couldn't protect people. His mouth opened into a small 'o' as it all clicked into place. If he was going to protect others, he had to protect himself. And the best way to protect himself from danger was to never give it an opportunity in the first place. Danger had to be pulled out by the root, cut down before it could grow and fester.

But Croan had a question too - he asked it oddly, though, as if it was a sentence instead. Croan said they didn't know what the source of the magic was. Jake tilted his head again, this time to the opposite side. He concentrated on the experience he'd just had moments prior. He'd felt the magic - the magic the man had crafted. It was powered by what the statue was holding. His stomach rumbled. And as he stared at the statue again, focusing on the artifact, he realized something else. There was more magic there. He could smell the hints of Croan on it. The professor must have been trying to help the statue man! Relief flooded him. "That's the source. Your magic is there, too," Jake then said, pointing at the artifact - and not, this time, touching it.

---

---

---

---

Nicholas wasn't certain what to do with that. He was well aware that the past liked to catch up; it was why they'd moved as much as they did, but he trusted his magic more than everyone in this room. Illusions, unlike people, never failed him because he knew they were lies. They were reliably false. He could certainly do without Mikkail thieving his original tongue, magically or otherwise. The Professor probably thought it would relax him, lower his guard a little, before he slapped him with another exploitive task. Nicholas decided Mikkail was colorful in the same way an animal was - decidedly poisonous.

Nicholas opted to remain silent and ignore where Mikkail put his book. Instead, he focused on his plans for the greenhouse. He had plenty of little spots to grow things and their journey through China offered him an opportunity to pick up some interesting additions. He'd been particularly interested in astragalus and some of its protective properties in spellwork. Nicholas planned to work it into his illusions to see if it made them harder to dispel.

Still, even as he let his mind water, the sound of chalk on board drew his attention and he slowly lifted an eyebrow. Although the chalk was writing, it was ignoring whatever nonsense the Professor was uttering and scribbling madness across the board. “And he's senile.” Nicholas scoffed under his breath, though the acorn he didn't bother hiding shifted to confusion as a single English word bid them escape. Nicholas revisited the lettering above it and noted the clean, even line work. If it was madness, Nicholas would expect it frantic and intense and messy but whatever this message said, it was intentional. He glanced at Cal, looking to see his reaction.

---

---

---

---

Annika shifted slightly away from Finley and Dysphoria. They seemed far too eager for blood…and brains. Finley sounded more like a zombie than a Fae creature. Then again, Annika couldn’t recall coming across Fae in her travels. Maybe Dysphoria was a zombie?

So, they had to create an anchor for protection, to draw power on, and to bring them back should they need it. Annika liked the idea Frankie came up with to create a tree with a branch to represent each of them. She pictured something quite large and grand, but when she saw the vault, Annika quickly shrank that image. Annika was thinking about creating some sort of silver bobble for her branch (could she contain some shadows within it?) when Rohan said he didn’t have blood.

She looked over at Rohan with a bit more intrigue. He was cursed? Incredible.

Annika felt more comfortable knowing the relic they were to create would be destroyed after the term. Blood was a powerful substance and shouldn’t be given carelessly.

”A tree sounds interesting, Frankie. Do you have an idea of how it should be constructed?” She glanced at the wood Rohan was placing out. Of course, that was the obvious answer, but how would they fill it with blood? And to have it move throughout the tree would be interesting. Like it would be truly alive.

---

---

---

---

Mikkail handled Nicky just the way Cal expected he would. With words meant to bring comfort more than anything else, however, Cal didn’t understand the words beyond them being in the Twins’ native tongue. Nor did he understand why Mikkail looked as if he had tried to shift but couldn’t. Why would he want to move into his dragon form, especially when he was significantly larger than Cal’s dragon form and this room?

When Mikkail placed the book on the shelf, Cal paused and turned his head slightly. There was instruction in those words, but no instruction was given. At least not one that Callaghan understood. He glanced at Nicky while Mikkail rewarded Cassie. Would he share with Cal what Mikkail said?

The notebooks Mikkail placed Nicky’s with didn’t yield any answers for Cal, but he could always return later and pull them aside. There was a reason he placed that book there. Perhaps they were from past students, or Mikkail’s own recollections about this strange planet he had visited that exhibited similar magic to the one Mikkail wanted them to uncover.

Callaghan shifted on the couch, setting his empty tea cup down. He was buzzing with the anticipation of research and knowledge yet to be uncovered. He felt electric. Even when he looked at the blackboard and saw a language he recognized from his time with Mikkail but failed to understand, even with all his pleadings to his mentor. Cal looked at Mikkail, then back at the board. He felt eyes on him and glanced at Nick. He gave a slight shake of his head before looking back at Mikkail. Several things were amiss, but Cal didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he had noticed Mikkail’s strange behaviour.

The single word in English didn’t bring any comfort to Cal. Could escape be a warning, what was to come, or what was to be avoided? There were so many different possibilities, but language wasn’t something Cal could decipher easily. Maybe he could talk to Connie. He did recognize a few of the words, having seen them before, but he didn’t understand a thing beyond that. Cal cracked open his notebook, located a pen, and jotted down the blackboard writings well enough. Even though he didn’t understand, he did know how to copy Mikkail’s words, and with his strange behaviour, anything could be a clue. He shut his book, smiling brightly.

”The only way to figure that out is to start researching. Look at what we have and work from there. So, I recommend we move to the library,” Cal said and stood. His pants still felt damp from where Cassie had spilt tea on him earlier, but some discomfort never bothered him. ”Is there a section you recommend we start with, Professor?”

Finley frowned. They were not sure how sap would work as blood. They would have to test it first. They were not completely sure they were capable of making a blood talisman. They never had before. It was within their type of fae’s abilities, but Finley had never learned how to do it.

”I will need a sample of your sap to see if I can manipulate it at all then. If it works, I should be able to use it without any additional issues. However, let me reiterate here, I have never done this type of work before. My skills are illusion magic and borrowing magic from others via their blood. I know in theory this is something that can be done. I have never done it before. I have to do a lot of testing before I can be sure of our safety.”

Finley then smiled brightly, teeth shining in a way that made them seem larger and sharper than normal, at Rohan, and held out their hand. ”Sample, please.”

---

”He isn’t kidding.” Connie warned Jake about Barty. ”What is supposed to protect people?” Sure, the professor had said something about the statue, but Connie wasn’t sure that was what Jake meant. ”Jake, I don’t know how you learn, but one of the things I suggest doing before making proclamations is doing as much research first. I think that your intuition about this situation may be accurate, but before we do anything rash, it is best to know as much as possible. Leaping into danger is a good way to get killed or go insane.” Connie’s voice was calm, but her face, as she looked at Jake, looked worried. She didn’t know how he knew what he was claiming. However, Connie knew that everyone’s magic was different.

”Can you explain how you are feeling this? Is it something you can see? Did you feel that before you touched the statue or only after? Is it only the sphere artifact that is sucking up magic, or is the person taking it in, too? If both, is there a percentage amount that you can determine?” Connie cut herself off, realizing she was asking a lot of questions very quickly, and from what she had gathered about Jake, he would have a hard time answering even the first question. She took a deep breath. ”Don’t worry if you can’t answer the questions. I am just looking to get a sense of how much of this is intuition and how much is reasoning.”

She was still sitting on the floor, cross-legged and straight-backed. Her notes were laid out on one of her knees, where she had written several notes about the ongoing conversation. Connie wrote down what Barty told her, putting in quotation marks with a note about it being ‘unreliable tertiary source.’

”What happened to that person? The one you enchanted?” She asked Barty after she finished writing.

---

---

---

---

Cassie fought off the heat filling her cheeks, both from her embarrassing round of spilling tea on Cal's lap as well as the praise from Professor Mikkail. She accepted the gift, moving it around in her hand. She half expected it to move on its own, possibly be a self-writing pen that listened to her thoughts and then if that were the case did it ever turn off would it start writing down her thoughts on how cute Cal was or how she had been thinking of his lap more than a normal person should and maybe she should shut up now.

But the pen remained still.

Cassie sat back in her seat, observing everyone now. Notably something was going on between Nick and Professor Mikkail. The former had a tinge of anger in his words, almost accusatory. Professor Mikkail, to his credit, seemed to speak in a calmer, kinder tone in response, though Cassie didn't know what was being said. The name Paedrus came around though and Cassie knew that name had something to do with Nick. Was it his actual name? If so, why hide it? Perhaps it had something to do with the subject of witch hunts and maybe it was triggering for Nick.

Cassie remained silent though, allowing the vibes to reset as Professor Mikkail wrote on the chalkboard. Cassie looked to the others, hoping they would jump in next. She didn't want to be a teacher's pet and answer all questions immediately. That wasn't cool, that wasn't how this was done. Would it impress Cal? Would it make her friends or enemies? This was her coven and surely that meant something, but she didn't want to rock the boat.

Cal, thankfully, spoke up with a good idea. The library was filled with knowledge and Cassie, admittedly, was chomping at the bit to see what sorts of tomes and lore was held up in this school's library. "I imagine history would be a good place to start. Perhaps reading up on religion also." She shifted, not wanting to appear too eager to follow Cal. Plus, she wanted to remain cool and aloof.

---

---

---

---

Willow ran her fingers over the notebook in her hands, letting her fingers trace over the letters as the awkwardness of Nicky and Professor Mikkail's encounter hung in the air. She did feel a bit awkward that she had no idea about the tome, and also the fact she wanted to do something to comfort Nicky even a little, even if she wasn't sure he'd want that at the moment. Things had been so much simpler the night before.

She watched as the chalk was started to move across the board, and both her and Luna were confused. This was not a language they knew, and in such a shaky way that it made Willow's head hurt a bit. She had Luna look away, as it was hurting them both at that point. She listened as the Professor spoke and thought to herself. How was something that the others attested was nothing but trouble could also be something that helped witches and warlocks?

She looked up as the chalk finished scratching across the board and when Luna looked up they saw the single word in English. Her brows furrowed under her veil, and she curled up more on the chair she was sitting in.

"I... could try asking the runes. Card are too tricky with a quandary like that. But research might be also a good place to start, though I don't know how much help I can be. Also is... there a way for me to take notes, like one of those typing machines? Writing is... not something that comes easy for me."

She saw that Cal was already standing, and could hear that Cassie was shifting, and guessed that she would want to follow him. She wasn't sure if she should follow along, or if she should just try to figure out her own way of note taking, and figuring out her vision from the night before and talking to the runes. There was also the other visions she had received the night before due to the candy she needed to sort through. She frowned a bit as she thought of those, especially of the voice demanding to be found. That worried her the most out of anything.

---

---

---

---

He just…knew? Barty fought the urge to roll his eyes. He had half a mind to use his magic to track down the missing Covenmate and see if perhaps he would have more insight into this statue, but he was neither worth his time nor magic. After all, if he couldn't bother to attend the first day then he was hardly worth looking into. ”You felt him. Gum cuidicheadh ​​Dia mi anns na h-amannan duilich seo.” He stepped away from Jake at once, moving over to another side of the statue to examine it from other angles. ”Failed attempts at breaking it only make it harder to break? Sounds like a knot to me. The more you struggle and pull at it the tighter it becomes and the more stubborn it is to get rid of. We mustn't try things too hastily then, otherwise we may give ourselves an impossible task.”

Barty mused out loud before Jake pointed out where the magics source was, allegedly. It appeared to be what the man was holding, coveting. Connie seemed to have more faith in their Covenmate. He hadn't bothered to face her when he began to speak again, staring at the sphere within the hands instead. ”In the end he was useless. Beyond what I told you he learned nothing of the ordeal. What's more he didn't even expand his magic in any interesting ways. By all accounts he was a wash and like all those who aspire to nothing I lost any interest in them. Couldn't even tell you their name or what they looked like if I'm being honest.” He tried to peer deeper into the magic surrounding the sphere, but the threads were too complex for him to find the right one. Frustrated, he attempted a bout of magic, wishing to change the odds in his favour. But try as he wanted his match wouldn't light and the spell refused to take hold, the match stick snapping between his fingers in irritation.

---

---

---

Sariel revealed the chamber in which their anchor would be placed. Franklin looked back towards the door where the previous anchors he'd seen were held. Originally he had thought this item something they could interact with on a daily, something they could feed and care for, and in doing so strengthen the bonds with it. This was no longer the case given the cage he saw before him. Then Rohan brought up another new bit of information. He was cursed. It seemed his magic was curse magic, infusing with whatever he created. What's more, he had no real blood to speak of, only sap. This did prove a bit tricky given what they were planning to do. His mind began to turn once more, grasping for answers he didn't have before speaking up once more.

“In theory his sap shouldn't prove any issue. If stories are to be reality and Fae walk amongst us, then perhaps those of the forest spirits do too, Dryads. I would only imagine they too have sap for blood and thus would be prey to your magicks but regardless of theory we'd need to test it out. I have equipment with me to draw out blood if need be.” Frankie suggested as he placed his leather bag down on a table top nearby. “As for how it should be constructed…a grafted tree is grown, you remove a branch or score a small location and insert the branch of another. In time they would fuse together and grow as one. But I'm beginning to think it's time we don’t have, not to mention keeping it alive will be impossible if we can't access it ourselves given it'll be locked away. So we may want to search for something more self-sustaining. Something that is crafted by us, especially if that's how Rohan's magic functions. The closer the tie with the object the better it'll respond to us. It should be something that could hold the blood as well.”

---

---

---

Connie, Barty, Jake

“Yes, it is.” Croan confirmed, but offered no further clarification. The look in his eyes was distant, staring out and beyond the statue, and the familiar frown smoothed out into something softer. The vampire was by no means a nice man but for a moment, it was like he forgot he was cruel.

“The magic is as you say, Mr. MacLeod. A tangled, knotted web scattered across the flesh of a fool.”

Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia

“Excellent, excellent! The library will certainly be the right place to start. You'll need to find the last place it was recorded in history and work your way back - I personally like to start in history, with a focus on politics and art. Movements like this typically shift their cultural markers to fit around it and you'll need to document the book-shaped holes in the narrative as you do.” Mikkail agreed. “You'll also have access to a more private collection on the magical happenings of the century than most students so please discuss with the librarian and they can assist you in getting to it.”

Mikkail turned to Willow thoughtfully. “I admit, I failed to consider that - I was just too excited to have you all! If you are comfortable typing, I will endeavor to procure a method for you! You may have to rely on your coven today but when I find one, I will have it sent to your room!”

Nicholas watched Cal's slight head shake and turned his attention to the exit. If Nicholas had thought Cal was just covering for his mentor, he would have froze the shifter out in a heartbeat. But Nicholas knew Cal well enough to note confusion - the witch wouldn't deny some of it was protecting his mentor, but it was clear they were both in the dark here. Nicholas sighed, not bothering to hide it.

The dragon was going to be insufferable about this.

“Then, let us take our leave. No answers will avail themselves to us here.” Nicholas stood, smoothing out his clothes, and looked at the two still sitting. “Well, come along you two. There is work to be done and you shall certainly do your share.” Nicholas promised irritably, crossing the room, throwing the door open, and heading towards the library without a glance back.

Mikkail watched him leave. “In my experience, divination is an excellent starting point and the perfect way to clear roadblocks during an investigation. I would caution against using it too often - the cryptic nature of the divine often bogs down genuine research. So wield it, but sparingly.” Mikkail advised Willow.

Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Frankie, Annika

Sariel leaned against the door, watching her Coven start to get into the process of creating their anchor.

“Trees take too much time, we agree. We should make something soft and squishy. What are those things Dewdrop showed us, Darling?” Dysphoria swung back and forth as they contemplated, a tendril snapping lightly on Finley's arms when it came to them. “Fruity Gushers! Yes, we should make a fruity gushers with blood and then when we are done, it will be a rewarding snack!” Dysphoria recommended, almost salivating at the thought. The symbiote offered Rohan a sharp, toothy smile as well.

“Yes, Woodling, let us help you with your bloodletting.” They crooned, a tendril reaching out to caress his arm.

---

---

---

"Sawaranaide kudasai-" Rohan pulled his arm back from the symbiote. He had to fight the urge to not reach for something made of iron or steel and fling it at Finley with prejudice. He already didn't like talking about this subject, getting bitten and bloodied by a Kylntar and a fucking fae because they thought it was interesting didn't sit right with him. To make it seem as if he wasn't petty or that someone had just pushed a button, his arm kept moving until it found his pocket. He sighed, and pulled out a knife made from animal bone. "There's no need for any special equipment. We're on a schedule, so we'll just do this the easy way- I heal injuries almost the same as all of you." He warned. He motioned for Root to go grab an empty jar he saw sitting on one of the workspaces.

"If we plan on using this stuff, you all need to be careful with it. Wear gloves, obviously, and be sure to wash your hands after handling it just in case," He warned, withdrawing a fiber cloth from his toolbox. Root plopped the jar down next to him, and Rohan quickly made sure it wasn't cloudy. "It doesn't leave this room. If it gets on something you can't get it out of, that something is being burned until the ashes are pale as falling snow. Finley, if you try using this stuff for your blood charms, don't leave the school for any reason. Not until you're sure the charm burns dry."

And then Rohan lifted his shirt.

A few details about his curse were instantly made apparent. At the center of his ribs, there was not skin. Rather, there was dark, mottled bark. Petrified wood webbed outwards in a pattern like a rat king of spiderwebs. Shades of black, gray and verdant brown, cracked and warped. It didn't quite reach up to his neck, but it stretched up his shoulders and almost to his stomach.

Thunk.

He stabbed himself. The point of the knife went straight into where a normal person's heart would be, and he didn't even flinch. Rohan wedged it left, then right, and then twisted. The blade was stuck, so he used his free hand to grab a chunk of the bark and rip it off. A sick, wet sound came from underneath it, and he dropped a piece of the black wood into the jar. He then whispered to Root, who bit down on the knife's handle and wrenched it out. He folded the fiber cloth with one hand and stuffed it in the wound.

And then, without so much as a wince, he dropped his shirt. Rohan held up the jar holding a piece of his "flesh." The surface of one side started to bubble, the part not typically exposed to air. It started to weep a viscous fluid, black as ink and thick as cold molasses. The glass reflected a brown tint of light where it hit the liquid, as it slowly pooled in the container. Enough to fill a shot glass or two.

And the smell. The smell. The only word that could accurately describe it was wrong. Not like something found on Earth, not like something found in another world. Neither the sap from a tree or the blood from a person were supposed to smell like that.

"That'll do. Anyway, I'm thinking we can try to make a heart. Four chambers, four mediums, four of us. Something lacing them together that represents the actual power we have. If it can still beat, we can always come back. There would be room for the sympathic connection to constantly throw from one expression to the next, and hearts can beat fast or slow."

---

---

---

---

Connie had a lot of questions for him. Jake learned in that moment that he was not very good at receiving a lot of questions at once. By the time Connie had finished asking them, he'd already forgotten what her first question was. She had given him some advice, too - advice that was really similar to what Nicholas and Professor Croan had both said. Maybe he ought to be following that advice. He put his hands in his pockets so that way he couldn't accidentally touch the statue again, but quickly found his hands felt constricted - he needed to be able to wiggle to have half a chance at answering her question.

It was one of the questions in the middle that Jake latched onto. Can you explain how you are feeling this? He scrunched up his face, trying to think about how to answer that in a way that was different from what he had said before. He didn't know how to explain a feeling. It was something that just was. He tilted his head to the left and then to the right - even looking at the statue again, as if he might have an idea on how to explain this to Connie. There was only one other way he could think of explaining this by - it was hard, really hard - but he hoped that it helped! He liked helping. He wished he could help more. He wanted to reach out to the statue again - and it took all of his willpower to not do it. The others hadn't liked it. It hadn't been helpful. And that was all he wanted to do. He wanted to help! He was supposed to help!

"Ummmm hmm it's like - it's like the fish! The fish from last night. The fish that were fish and then keys and then - I guess they're still keys! Oh! Was I supposed to keep that with me?" he then felt in his pockets. Empty. He had nooooo idea where he'd left the key. Oops! "I think my fish is gone. But! It's like I was swimming in the tank - even though I'm big and the tank is really little, but I can do it!! - and I just saw the fish so close! Like..." he then walked up to Connie, and crouched down in front of her, so close to her that his breath would tickle her face - "like this close!!!"

And then he took scooted backwards, because he didn't want to accidentally touch her. That wasn't allowed.

Barty seemed to be confused too by how Jake could feel these things. He hoped the fish explanation would also help him. Were Connie and Barty unable to feel these things? He tilted his head yet another time, staring at them in turn. How did their magic work if not a feeling? Something seemed to whisper in his ear - telling him that Connie's magic dealt with the physical, while Barty played with the mind and the universe. They couldn't feel things, then. He wished he could help them feel things. But maybe instead of that, he could ask them how he could help them!! Maybe they did want his help, and they just hadn't asked yet!! "What do you want me to do?" he then asked, his gaze shifting away from Connie and towards Barty - before finally landing on Croan.

The professor seemed so tired - he must have needed a nap!! He was probably just sleepy from trying to help the statue. But Jake could help with that!!! "You can sleep in my bed!" he blurted, looking at Croan.

---

---

---

---

Willow simply nodded at what the professor said. "My Tia said they made typewriters for braille, which I can read. So yes, if we can procure one, that would help with my notes immensely. I guess for today, I will ask my coven for help, and in the future, hopefully a machine can aid me." Willow really did hope that someone would be willing to help her with notes that day, but she realized her choice was going to be limited to Cal or Cassie, since Nicky seemed to be still... angry. Emotions were hard to tell through Luna sometimes, and she didn't wish to presume, or ask him how he was feeling. They had gotten close the night before but it wasn't the same as she had felt with Cal, or Cassie.

She watched as Nicky left and turned to the professor as he spoke. She nodded and then sighed a bit. "Divination is tricky, and cryptic. I do know that. Unfortunately it doesn't like to leave me alone. It bogs me down, quite often. I... I have visions that come to me even when I try not to have them. I even had one last night that I'm trying to untangle. It is... my price. That is what I was told by my Tia. I use my tools to try to clear it up, but it is not easy. I will probably go to the library, consult the runes and try to figure out where to go but..."

She pause for a moment. Dare she ask him about her vision from last night, either of them? Probably not. He had already warned her about divination. Those two she would have to untangle and figure out the meaning of probably on her own. Maybe someone would be willing to help, but she wasn't sure. "Thank you. I will see you later." She smiled before she gathered up her items and headed towards the library, after the others. She just hoped she wasn't too far behind.

---

---

---

---

Annika’s eyes widened as Rohan literally stabbed himself in front of everyone. Her eyes flashed to his face before looking back at his very wooden chest. Annika suddenly had flashes of The Wizard of Oz in her head. She likened Rohan to more of the Tin Man than the Scarecrow…and definitely not the Cowardly Lion.

Her eyes roamed freely over his torso, taking in its unique composition. He was literally turning into a tree. It wasn’t like Annika hadn’t believed him, but seeing it was something she would have never been able to picture, and she had seen a wide range of creatures in her time. She felt foolish now, after talking about how connected she felt to trees and nature the night before. Rohan was a tree.

Annika scoffed at the wadded-up fabric Rohan shoved into the literal hole he had in his body and dropped his shirt. She looked up at him once more.

”Unbelievable,” she said outloud. Annika’s eyes widened, and she turned her head, realizing she had just spoken out loud. She stared at the glass where a piece of Rohan sat.

She ached to touch it, even if Rohan advised them not to. But magic and unique items like this had always fascinated her. A bad habit she had picked up from her father, but you couldn’t learn unless you explored. And sometimes exploring meant making questionable decisions.

Annika’s fingers twitched, reaching out to the jar…just as Nochella appeared and slid her shadowy form under Annika’s hand. Annika frowned, watching her familiar slink across the table. Her ears twitched as she looked at Rohan and sat down in the middle of the table. Her cat eyed Rohan, and Annika wondered just exactly what she was seeing.

”So a heart?” Annika questioned, rocking back on her heels. ”I guess that makes sense with our blood running through it. If your gift is organic, Frankie, could you make a literal heart?” What could she add to such a thing that would represent her? A pretend pacemaker? Those contained precious metals.

Annika heeded Nochella’s warning, though, and shoved both hands into her pants pockets.

---

---

---

---

Callaghan grinned at his favourite professor. More access to a wide range of knowledge was just what he needed. Cal would probably spend all his time in the library if he could. Plus, there were so many hidden, shadowy corners for other activities. He glanced over at Cassie, wondering if she had any aversion to being pinned to a library bookshelf.

”Thank you professor.” He bowed his head respectfully before leading the group out of the room. He made note that Willow didn’t follow them right away, but Cal was okay with that. He handed his notebook to Nicky. The words on the blackboard still flashed through Cal’s mind. If only his mentor would share that language with him. And there was nothing in the library about it. At least not that Cal had found. Whatever Mikkial’s subconscious had written on the board, it was important. A warning perhaps. Something niggled at Cal, telling him that his beloved mentor wasn’t exactly all there.

”The professor seemed to be in high spirits today; he was practically glowing at some points,” Cal said vaguely. As much as he enjoyed Cassie and Willow’s company, he did not fully trust them yet. Nick…Nick was different. Even if the witch would never trust Cal. Cal glanced sideways at Nick. ”He seemed almost ready to fly away,” he said, hoping Nick would take the hint.

---

---

---

---

Cassie did her best to hide it but she was definitely excited to check out the library. If there were any pleasures she was allowed at home that were allowed by her parents, it was books. Cassie imagined the library here held so much knowledge about magic and all of it that she could get lost for hours.

She stood at Nicholas' prompting and followed him and Cal out of the room, noting that Willow stayed behind. Cassie was starting to feel a little guilty for how she was behaving towards her new friend. Perhaps this would be a good time to talk. Study together and discuss some things.

She followed Nicholas and Cal, mainly because she didn't know where the library was (not to mention she had a really good view from behind Cal....no Cassie, hold those thoughts, knowledge first, extracurriculars after) and she overheard their conversation. Glowing? She supposed Professor Mikkail was flamboyant enough, practically walking on air. Cal would know him better though. "He seems like such a fun professor! Is this the first time either of you worked under him? Anything a new student should know?"

She looked back to see if Willow had followed. She felt a tinge of guilt trying to weasel out insider info from those who were here before, but she would share......depending on the information.

Finley was impressed. They were also a little turned on. That was not as concerning to Finley as one would hope. Their vaguely predatory smile had grown as Rohan dug into his own... hmm, flesh was not the correct word any more, bark? What was the inner part of a tree called?

”What is the inner part of a tree called, not the bark part, but once you get past that?” They asked anyone willing to part the knowledge upon them. They tilted the glass that Rohan had handed them. A little disappointed, but a spark of glee still in their eyes.

With little concern for health and well-being Finley stuck a finger into the viscous bubbling liquid and then stuck their now sticky finger into their mouth. They only needed a sample, but they had to verify that this was something they could work with.

Finley’s eyes went blank for a moment. They did not say anything, they did not move. When they finally did they reached for Dysphoria, giving them a loving caress.

”I can use this. Finley did not elaborate. “Annika, I will also need some of your blood.” They then pulled up a seat at a wooden table with glass beakers. Finley offered one to Annika.

”Feel free to be less interesting when you bleed. Unless you are also made of interesting material that is not the normal weak flesh of mortals. I will be disappointed, but understanding.”

Finley neither said thank you or please during any of these exchanges. They saw no need for it. This was a group project for a singular goal. If any of the others needed such things from them they would not expect those words. Those oh so dangerous words. No debt was being made here. Work and skills were being exchanged. It was fair.

---

Connie sighed, disappointed in the contact that Barty had. Of course the prior student had been useless. They hadn’t left any notes behind. Anything verbal also would have been tainted by time. The delay between what had happened and passing on the information made that information all the less reliable.

On her knee, Connie started tapping her fingers. She started with her forefinger and then middle, and then ring, ending with her pinky. After taping her pinky she tapped her ring, then her middle and then her forefinger. She did this several times as she tried to understand what the fuck Jake meant.

There was nothing quantifiable. Nothing measurable. Just vague ‘feelings’. She understood, intellectually, that some people’s magic worked that way. In a way, her own magic did. However, she had spent the last almost dozen years digging into the minute details of her magic. She had found the cracks and crevices of her magic and figured out why and how. She didn’t know the source, other than what her father had told her ‘bloodline blessing’. That was alright. She could live with not knowing... She could. Really.

She was glad Jake hadn’t touched her. She wasn’t completely touch adverse but she did not know Jake well enough to feel comfortable with him touching her. He had gotten way too close for her personal space comfort, but he hadn’t crossed that little invisible line.

Connie gave up a bit on composure and folded over her ankles. She was flexible enough that she could lay her forehead on her ankles, almost touching the floor. Connie spent a moment just breathing before sitting back up.

”Alright, let us see if we can confirm this with resonance testing. Jake you said that you can sense the magic of others, such as our professor, in the object. Do you sense any of my magic in it?”

As Connie had not previously interacted with the object if it had any of her magic within that meant it was passively consuming magic. If it did not than someone had to actively interact with it.

She pulled from her bag several pieces of wood, clay, and metal. The clay was soft and pliable. She considered the pieces. Most of the wood and metal were pieces she had channeled her magic through before. She picked up one of these and offered it to Jake.

”Here is a sample of what something that has been manipulated by me feels like.”

---

---

---

---

The more Jake spoke, the less he made sense. Barty exhaled slowly through his nose as frustration quickly began to set in. Pulling out another cigarette and lighting it as he took a long drag and let the smoke sit for a beat before finally exhaling it out. What he desperately wanted was a drink, but he doubted anyone here would be happy if he started drinking as they tried to solve something. He continued to mere near the statue when suddenly he stopped. Turning to face Jake before taking another hit of his cigarette. ”Are you attempting to tell me that your magic was allowing you to communicate to the statue on a deeper level as if you yourself were within the stonework as well?”

It was clear Connie had her own methods, and Barty wasn't going to stop them. But in order for their covenmate to feel for Connie's magic, he'd need to interact with the statue once more he'd reckon. He doubted his memory was good enough to recall and distinguish a new set of magic amongst all those who've tried. Then there was the fact that Croans was in there. ”I don't suppose you happened to know who the fool is personally then? I suggest your magic wasn't found there due to a recent siphoning. No.” There was a connection but Barty didn't know what. Someone who had been alive much longer than him, could he have known the person depicted here? Or whoever had sent it as a gift?

---

---

---

Frankie had already begun to dig into his bag, debating between needing a thicker needle to draw out the sap or simply finding something that could tap Rohan similar to how one tapped a tree. He paused in his search as Rohan said there was no need, Frankie's eyes looking up in curiosity as he head remained fixated to facing the bag below him. He hadn't expected someone to think like him, work like him. This would make these discoveries all the more fun. A major part of him wondered if he could experiment on the pieces that Rohan shed. See how they reacted to similar treatments that he'd done on flesh. Quickly the conversation shifted from trees to gushers to a heart. Not too unlike a gushers really.

“If we're looking for what each person can create, a heart may be the best bet. Between your metal working, Rohans wood working, and Finley's use of blood magic, I daresay we could make an anchor yet. We'd need to have the left and right sides created separately but with the same dimensions.”
Franklin pulled out a notebook and began sketching out several designs. One had the Right Atrium and Ventricle systems, the other had the left of the same, it showed the Vena Cava's, Aorta, and flow of blood with arrows. They had the same dimensions, and cut off fairly short to allow for a third piece not shown in the diagram and the final drawing was how they fit together.
“Rohan and Annika each pick a side, left or right. Use your medium of choice alongside your design but make it thin enough that it can bend and breathe like a heart should. Might be easier for Rohan with his magic but we need to combine all our talents for this. The two sides will fit together like a puzzle, Finley will use their magic to bind us to the blood within or whatever it does, and I will supply the motor for which these pieces will pump and flow, as well as the connecting channels, albeit much shorter than what's found within our bodies. It'll be an infinite loop. Simple and Clean.”

He looked around the room as he spoke, checking amongst the items laid before them to aid them in their creation. Franklin mentally cursed to himself when he did a lap of the room and saw there were body parts to speak of. No flesh or muscle, no arms or legs, nothing to make use of. Sariel certainly wouldn't allow him to leave the area to gather some either, and as Rohan said, time wasn't on their side. So he made his way back towards his bag, pulling out several surgical tools, gauze, and bandages along with disinfectant and the such. Franklin took the sharp knife in his hand with the precision of someone who'd used it many times before. It was an extension of himself, of all the cadavers he'd worked on. This would be much more simple than his usual work.

He quickly went to work, disinfecting and bandaging the wound before wrapping it up in a cloth to hide what he had just done.
As he rolled the cloth bandage around his arm he began to speak again.
“This will be my contribution. My organics. It'll make it easier for the anchor I assume as well, given how close it is to me.”

---

---

---

Connie, Barty, Jake

The magic of eld was a quiet and subtle thing, drawn of a single plane and infused with intention. Barty Macloud was steeped in these magics and rolled off his tongue with the ease of breath. Whether he willed it or not, he wove enchantments into his words and the spark of nostalgia born into an ancient vampire spoke back. “Ardyon was a fool. He sought to quell the tensions rising between a vampire noble and the people of his village on the border of Italy and Slovenia. It would have been a massacre.” His voice was far away and distant, as if he thought he was elsewhere. “Althoigh I do not know what manner of artifact he claimed, my services were requested to separate it from the stone. My original findings were the same: that the magic sustained Ardyon, that the artifact powered the spell, and that the solution to this puzzle is carved into the stone.”

Whatever feeling overwhelmed him faded away and Croan shook his head sharply and his face settled into the disapproving frown he regularly wore. “My belief is that we cannot see the forest for the trees - that the solution is already here, we simply need to reorient the picture.”

Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia

Nicholas offered Cal a brief glance and fell a half step behind, permitting Cal to lead them. “High spirits indeed. If I did not already have the displeasure of his acquaintance, I would have thought him in his cups.” Nicholas offered in return. Now that he'd had some distance and a moment to cool, Nicholas agreed with Cal. Something was just a bit off and Nicholas did not care that he could not put his finger on it. The Professor, for all his irritating good intentions, commanded his wits with an iron fist. And if his protégé thought his behavior odd, Nicholas was inclined to believe it. Nicholas glanced back at Cal's butterfly as she posed a question and opted to allow the shifter to answer.

The library was, on the surface, a simple affair. A moderate sized room with row after row of shelving, books in all shapes and sizes, scrolls nestled next to tomes, and strange book ends that seemed to move whenever you weren't looking. Stepping through heavy iron doors bound open with iron chains that smelled faintly of brimstone, a round librarian's desk was immediately to the left and a stout, stubbled chinned librarian glanced up at the four and then back down at the text they were transcribing.

The history and religion sections were separated by a small gathering of tables in the bookshelves. Cal led them deeper into the library when the floor suddenly folded and they stepped down along the ground. The gravity never shifted and the sight only lasted for a moment: Space folded in on itself over and over and over, creating a complex overlapping maze that was the library. It was massive but Cal was an old hand at navigating the strange directions and soon enough they would find themselves at the crossroads of History, Religion, and Politics. Language, Cal was aware, was another bend around the corner at the far end of Cultural Studies.

Nicholas paused at a table, noted that a few people had left belongings behind, and looked at Cal directly. “What crypticness hides in the madness your mentor wrote?”

Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Frankie, Annika

Something predatory flashed across Sariel's face as her students offered the very essence of their beings into the magic, but it was gone in an instance and pride instead glowed from her.

Literally.

The same magic that the mechanisms drew out of the Neverish simmered just beneath her skin, bolts of lightning that skittered through her. However…

Whatever was in the Woodling's blood challenged Dysphoria's claim over the fey and Dysphoria found that unacceptable. Even the claiming reassurance of Finley's fingers and soothing feelings was not enough to quell the symbiote's possessiveness. Dysphoria took the forefront, symbiote skin bubbling up and over Finley and drawing their Darling inside of their protective shell.

On the outside, Finley was hidden behind fleshy purples and pinks as Dysphoria stared down Rohan. “Woodling. If whatever thing skulks inside your blood dare lay a finger on my Darling again, there will be no restraint as I tear it from you strand by strand and I will delight in both your agonies before I consume you. Alive if possible.”

---

---

---

---

Jake scrunched up his face. Barty’s words were really confusing - the sentence was really long and his attention span wasn’t that long. He mumbled the words again to himself, sounding them out one by one as he slowly put together the question that was asked of him. And then, a big smile grew on his face as he understood - or at least, as he thought he understood. “Yeah, I’m in the tank with the fish!!!” He was so happy that his explanation had worked. It was the proudest he’d ever been of himself in his life. And he had been alive for at least one night, so he had a lot of moments to choose from!!! The other top tier moment was when he had been so helpful in the greenhouse, he loved being helpful!! He loved it almost as much as he loved protecting people!

And now Connie was asking for his help too!! He was suddenly filled with energy, an all consuming need to run or jump or something physical filling him all at once. He took the samples of her magic from her - “these are so pretty, you’re so talented!!” - and he stared at them for a moment. He held them up to his ear but didn’t hear anything. He then sniffed them, and when that didn’t feel like quite enough either, he licked them. Ah. There it was! Senses were so silly, he never really knew which one to use, but it seemed like his tongue was really effective! He’d have to try licking more things!!

He scrunched up his face once more, trying to remember if Connie’s magic had been in the statue - for a brief moment he thought about licking Arydon too - and then it came to him. “Nope! Your magic isn’t in there!”

He tilted his head again, though, as Croan told them more about Arydon. He knew there was a reason he liked Arydon so much. He was a protector, too, just like him! He’d saved people from a vampire! Jake didn’t know what a vampire was, but it sounded pretty scary! “He must have been pretty brave and strong to save all those people, right?” Jake was positively beaming. He couldn’t wait to meet Arydon! He was going to ask him so many things - starting with what a vampire was - and he was going to learn so much about how to help keep people safe!

---

---

---

Rohan paid next to no mind to the varying reactions to his self-mutilation. To them, it might have been something of significance for one reason or another. But he didn't think much of it himself. It didn't hurt, there was no pain to be felt. It was just a material he offered. He wasn't thrilled that Finely seemed to take some quiet amusement in tasting his "blood." But, of course, he didn't make much of a fuss about that. If they wanted to end up like him, or like Namiki, that was their own damn business. But the little symbiote creature they were bound to? Oh, that was interesting.

Outwardly, his face was just blank. Entirely indifferent to the threat that it had just issued. But on the inside, he pondered grabbing something flammable and giving the wretched, pitiful thing a lesson in thermodynamics. Or perhaps he'd find out whether Dysphoria shared Finley's aversion to iron and steel. If that were the case, maybe he'd butcher them like meat and use the remains for something useful. It'd be easy, he could even use its corpse to tie a knot and strangle that fae long enough to-

"My mistake, Dysphoria." He grinned in a most placating way. It wasn't a warm smile.

"I'll be careful. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, now would we?"

He stared them both down for whole seconds, before breaking eye contact.

"A heart makes sense with what we've got. I'll work on a top-left chamber, and I'll use pine since it's flexible. A few thin pieces should be able to flex enough for a pulse. I'm ready to get started."

Finley watched with fascination as Franklin flayed his own flesh. Interesting. What an unusual pair of people they had found themselves in a group with? If this had been earlier in their tenure among humans Finley, well, Finley would have followed something other than their nature. But here and now, there were more rules. The young woman, Annika, had yet to respond to the situation, and Finley watched her.

Was she afraid? Was she sickened? Was this normal for her? They waited; they still technically needed blood from both her and Franklin. Flesh was all and well for certain parties, but this was not one such situation. Finley sat perfectly still, the stillness of a creature waiting for prey, except for the fingers that twined with the tendril of Dysphoria.

To Dysphoria they sent warmth, assurances, and appreciation. There was a tinge of guilt because Finley had consumed the ‘blood’. It was a necessary thing to know if their magic would work with the strange material, but they had stepped into the risk. They would not again. Nervous Rohan was safe from Finley on that venture. No memories or power to borrow (so to speak) had come to Finley. The strange curse had tried to wrap around Finely’s heart, and that danger was not to be ignored. Oh no, Finley would not allow that to happen. They were as free as their kind could be. To yoke themselves to a curse as malignant as that would be suicidal.

---

Connie was somehow able to contain the recoil that started deep within her as Jake licked her items. She trembled a little. Part of her knew she’d have to clean all of these items before touching them again. Connie did not have OCD. She did not like being touched overly much. She hated body fluids. Thankfully, Jake had not licked her directly.

Clearing her throat a little, Connie said. ”I’m glad you like them. If you’d like, you may keep that one.” She indicated the one Jake had licked. Connie wasn’t completely sure she could clean it and make herself forget that he had licked it. This was a better option.

“That gives us some data to work with. Since I have never actively interacted with the Statue of Arydon is not included in what you sensed.” Connie lifted her notebook back up to her knee and started writing on a new page. She wrote down what Croan and Barty were discussing. Despite her apparent distraction with Jake, she had not ignored what the pair discussed.

The part of her that had once turned a stone statue of a bird into a flesh thing wanted to reach out again and touch the statue. A bit of fear that was coiled in her gut steered her away from such actions. If she were to, and the statue only ate her magic instead of using it, this would be a waste. If she were unable to return the stone to flesh, if she failed... If she was wrong... No. Connie was not ready to try something that could be too costly; when she did that, she would be certain that it would work.

---

---

---

---

What was with Annika’s coven wanting to dissect themselves? Annika stared as Frankie cut into himself. He did so with more precision, like a surgeon, but it was still shocking and a little disturbing. However, Frankie seemed to understand the concept of first aid better than Rohan. A wadded-up cloth inside the gaping hole of his chest did not seem hygienic. Annika glanced back at Rohan’s chest, frowning slightly.

”I’ll take the right side then,” Annika responded after Rohan volunteered to shape the left side. ”If we are making something that connects to flesh, something that would adhere to flesh would be better, but titanium won’t work because of Finley.” Annika looked at Finley before glancing at the empty glass container that was set before them. Perhaps Annika was overthinking this. They were using magic and their powers to form everything after all. Any precious metal would probably do.

Annika pulled the glass container closer, sighing. She could tackle this problem first. She would have to cut herself; there was no way around it. Even if Finley was coming on a little strongly with their interest in everyone’s blood.

”How much blood do you need?” Getting a drop was easy, but if the fae required more than that, Annika would have to make a deep cut or even something as extensive as a blood draw.

---

---

---

---

Callaghan smiled at Cassie, walking a step closer to her as she questioned him about the professor. ”He and I have worked closely since I started coming to the school. Being a dragon from a different world, it is nice for us to compare notes, plus, Mikkail has a wide range of knowledge from his travels that I eagerly question him on as often as I can. I think you’ve impressed him Cassie. Honestly, you have nothing to worry about. Just be you and be engaging.” Cal nudged Cassie with his arm and held the library door open for his companions.

Cal walked the familiar aisles of the library, even though they shifted and curved. The library had been one of the first locations Cal had discovered during his first year at Strange Academy. And he had spent nearly every day in the library since. Wandering the rows of books, fingering the pages, and seeking comfort between the lines. If Haven was the twins' sanctuary, this was his. He helped Willow and Cass navigate the library's unique features until they reached their destination.

”These sections house religion, history, and politics. Unfortunately, we don’t have access to Grimories, or I would suggest looking there first. Cassie, you seem the most familiar with the trials Mikkail mentioned. Why don’t you see what you can find? Oh, and find anything on the planet Krodha. I know a bit, but a refresher never hurts.” He glanced at Willow, thinking about what she could look up when Nicky spoke. ”Mikkail was writing in his native tongue. He refuses to teach me the language and has nothing in his office for me to learn from. I’ve checked.” Cal crossed his arms, still looking at Willow. ”Willow, do you think you could look for books related to Heinrich Krammer? I’d start with the history, but you might also find something relevant within the politics section. Nicky, could you help me over in the language department? I have a theory, but could use an extra set of eyes,” he lied. Truthfully, Cal had nothing, and that frustrated him, but it also empowered him. Callaghan never shied away from a challenge.

The language section was further over and would provide some distance from the others, so Cal could bring up his concerns with Mikkail.