Stars Beneath Hellfire

Chapter Twelve

"What were you talking about with Cassiel?" Lyra asked when Vespera joined her. They were walking to their next class, Alchemy.

"Oh, it's not 'Seraph Cassiel' anymore," Vespera replied instead. Lyra couldn't help but shrug. "Since you, he's become more approachable, just beyond the title we so feared," she replied honestly. It was true. A lot of the students saw it, but no one would dare say it aloud. Heads bowed a little less lower. The fear the Seraph seemed to demand had lessened drastically too. Seraph Kaelen still demanded that kind of reverence. But Cassiel? Lyra could sense the change.

And Vespera? There was definitely a change in her too. She still was cold and detached, but the ice queen persona she had entered with, was not so obvious anymore.

The despair and fear that erupted every time she stepped in a room had lessened too.

',They are good for each other,' she thought.

"He wants to be friends," Vespera said after a while. "And you agreed?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? He's good for you," Lyra replied. "Oh?" came the simple response.

"Come on, Vee," Lyra whined. "Don't call me that."

They turned into the class. "I agreed," Vespera finally said.

Lyra smiled. "I know," she smiled knowingly.

The rune wouldn't respond.

Lyra stared at the symbol she had drawn across the parchment. It was correct.

Every line.

Every curve.

Lyra knew it was correct.

Yet the silver glow that should have spread through the inscription remained stubbornly absent.

A frown fell upon her features.

'Something's wrong with my magic,' she thought.

She pressed her fingers against the rune and whispered the activation phrase again.

Nothing.

Beside her, Vespera continued working, clearly unbothered.

She tried again. Still nothing. A sharp hiss sounded somewhere behind her.

"What?"

The voice was followed by the crash of glass.

Lyra looked up. A student three rows away was staring at his hands.

"My spell failed."

Another voice joined his.

"So did mine."

Confused murmurs spread across the classroom.

The air felt different.

Wrong.

Lyra's stomach tightened. Around her, students were abandoning their work to test simple spells.

A fae's floating quill dropped onto her desk. A draken's scale-light sputtered out.

Across the room, somebody cursed.

The noise rose quickly. Questions erupted from all directions. Confusion was heavy.

Then the professor's voice cut through it all.

"Enough."

The room fell silent. Lyra looked toward the front of the classroom.

The professor stood perfectly still.

Calm.

Collected.

Yet something about her seemed different.

Her eyes were sharper than usual.

She scanned the room, as though she were searching for something.

'She feels it too,' Lyra thought.

"You're anxious. What's wrong?" Vespera asked, unperturbed. "Your spells still respond?" Lyra asked. "Should they not?"

"The rest of the class isn't having the same luck," she notified Vespera, turning back to the front.

The professor stood at the front. She raised her hand. Lyra knew this move.

A small silver flame should have appeared above the witch's palm.

Instead, it flickered twice, before finally settling into existence.

A murmur spread through the room.

Lyra felt it ripple through the other students before anyone even spoke. The kind of quiet reaction that meant something had gone wrong, but no one yet understood how badly. The professor’s expression did not change.

That, more than anything, made Lyra’s stomach tighten.

“Remain seated,” she said. “No one is in danger.”

It sounded certain. Lyra didn’t believe her.

The professor turned slowly toward the eastern wall. Lyra followed her gaze.

There, carved into ancient stone, were rows of runes—silver lines embedded deep into the classroom itself. Centuries of enchantment layered into a system that had always felt less like decoration and more like architecture.

Protective runes.

Stabilizing runes.

Archival runes.

Runes she couldn't recognise as well.

They all pulsed softly, steady as breath.

And at the center of them all—

The Rune of Witness.

She lingered on it. Lyra had always assumed it was just part of the room’s history. Something meant to observe, record, and preserve every spell cast within these walls. It had watched generations of students pass through.

Lessons.

Failures.

Successes.

Accidents.

Nothing escaped it.

At least, that was what they were told. The professor stared at it. For a moment, she didn’t move. Neither did anyone else.

Something in the air felt off. A wrongness that made Lyra aware of her own breathing.

The Rune of Witness pulsed.

Once.

Twice.

And the second time, it didn’t feel like part of the room.

It felt like a hesitation.

Lyra's gaze turned to Vespera. She was bent over the desk, a rune levitating under her palm.

'She's not even trying that hard,' she noted mentally, slightly intrigued and unsettled. She turned back to find the professor also had her gaze fixed on Vespera.

"Class is dismissed early," the professor suddenly announced. A wave of surprised murmurs followed.

"Return to your dormitories and refrain from practicing advanced magic until further notice."

The students rose quickly, anxious conversations erupting as they gathered their things.

Within minutes, they were filing toward the doors.

Students hurried from the classroom.

The room still hummed with lingering magic. Glass vials rattled softly on their shelves, and runes carved into the stone walls pulsed with their usual silver glow.

The professor moved to stand beside her desk.

"Stay a moment."

The words were directed at Lyra.

She hesitated before nodding, then turned to Vespera.

"I'll head to our room," she told her before leaving.

The professor waited until the footsteps beyond the doors had faded completely.

Then she sighed. A weary sound.

"Have you noticed anything unusual about your friend recently?"

Lyra frowned.

"Vespera?"

The professor nodded.

"What kind of unusual?" Lyra asked, confused. 'Could she be linked to this?' she mused.

For a moment, the witch didn't answer.

Her gaze drifted toward the windows.

"I don't know," she said softly, almost whispering.

That answer unsettled Lyra more than any explanation could have.

The professor always knew.

"I looked at her today... when the disturbances began."

Her expression tightened.

"I felt something."

"What?"

"I don't know."

Again the uncertainty.

The professor walked slowly toward the wall lined with ancient runes.

Silver symbols glimmered in the stone.

"I have spent my entire life studying patterns," she said.

"Alchemy."

"Runes."

"Prophetic currents."

She paused.

"When I look at most people, I can sense the shape of things around them."

Lyra listened carefully.

"But when I looked at- at Vespera..."

The professor fell silent.

"Teacher?" Lyra asked.

A faint crease appeared between the woman's brows.

"It was like staring at a page where the words had been erased."

The room suddenly felt colder.

"I knew something should have been there."

Her voice dropped lower. "But I couldn't see it."

Neither of them noticed the Rune of Witness flicker.

A brief pulse, gone as quickly as it came.

Lyra shifted uneasily.

"You think she's connected to what happened today?"

"I think..." The professor hesitated.

A sharp sound interrupted her.

Tick.

They froze. The noise had come from the wall. The professor slowly turned.

The Rune of Witness glowed faintly.

Tick.

Another sound.

This one louder.

Lyra stepped forward.

"What was that?"

The professor didn't answer, her eyes fixed on the rune.

A thin c***k had appeared across its center.

For a heartbeat neither of them moved.

Then the c***k lengthened.

Stone groaned softly.

Silver light leaked through the fracture.

"No," she whispered.

The word barely reached the air.

Another fracture spread through the symbol.

The colour drained from her face.

"Professor?"

"The Rune of Witness has stood for three hundred and eighty-seven years."

Her voice sounded hollow.

"It has recorded every lesson taught in this room."

Another c***k.

The silver glow flickered violently.

The room shuddered.

Books trembled on their shelves.

Dust drifted from the ceiling.

Lyra's stomach tightened.

"What's happening?"

For the first time since she had met her, the professor looked afraid.

"I don't know."

The rune flashed.

Weakly.

Like a dying star.

Then a final fracture split its center.

The light vanished.

The room stilled.

They stared at the broken symbol.

Somewhere deep inside Lyra, a terrible certainty began to form.