The True Balance - The School for Good and Evil

Chapter 13: The Witching Hour Looms

The days leading up to "The Witching Hour" passed in a blur of tension and preparation. The entire School for Evil buzzed with anticipation, and whispers of the trial’s dangers grew more exaggerated with every passing hour. Agatha could feel the pressure mounting. The sense of unease was like a cloud hanging over her head, and no matter how hard she tried to focus on her magic, her thoughts kept drifting back to the upcoming trial—and to Aric.

The fact that Aric seemed to appear wherever she went didn’t help. He was always watching, his eyes sharp and calculating, like he was waiting for her to fail. But there was something else beneath that cold exterior, something Agatha couldn't quite put her finger on.

And, as much as she hated to admit it, Aric had become her anchor in this dark, twisted world. He was one of the only people who didn’t treat her like an outsider. Instead of doubting her or questioning why she was at the School for Evil, he simply acknowledged her presence, and in some strange way, that made her feel like she belonged.

But still, there was a part of her that couldn’t shake the distrust she had for him. He was unpredictable, dangerous, and there was always something lurking behind those icy eyes that made her wary.

---

Agatha stood by the lake, her reflection wavering in the dark waters. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the entire landscape. It was quiet—too quiet. She could hear the distant sounds of the Nevers preparing for the trial, but here, by the lake, everything felt still. Isolated.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be alone or not.

"You’re thinking too much," came a familiar voice from behind her.

Agatha turned to see Aric approaching, his usual cool expression in place. He moved silently, like a shadow slipping through the night.

"Why do you keep following me?" Agatha asked, crossing her arms defensively. Her voice was more tired than accusatory.

Aric shrugged, coming to stand beside her at the water’s edge. "Maybe I’m curious."

"About what?"

"About you." His gaze shifted to the water, where their reflections mingled in the ripples.

Agatha wasn’t sure how to respond. The admission was unexpected, and for a moment, she considered pushing him away. But part of her wanted to know more. Why was he so interested in her? Was it because of the trial? Or was there something else?

She sighed, sitting down on the rocky shore and staring at the water. "You know, I didn’t choose to come here. The School for Evil, I mean. It wasn’t supposed to be my story."

"Yet here you are," Aric replied, sitting down next to her, his posture relaxed. "Maybe this is your story after all."

Agatha glanced at him. "Do you really believe that? That we don’t get to choose?"

Aric’s eyes darkened slightly, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of his face. "In this place? Choice is an illusion. We’re all bound by something. Whether it’s fate, power, or survival, we don’t really have control. We just think we do."

Agatha felt a chill run down her spine. His words struck a chord deep within her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Everything about this school, about this world, felt like it was pulling her in a direction she didn’t want to go. But no matter how hard she tried to resist, the pull only grew stronger.

"So what does that mean for me?" she asked quietly. "Am I just... supposed to accept it?"

Aric’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than usual. "No. You fight. You survive. You prove that you’re not just some girl who ended up in the wrong school by mistake."

Agatha clenched her fists, feeling the weight of his words sink in. That’s exactly what everyone thought of her, wasn’t it? That she didn’t belong here. That she was just some mistake. But Aric saw her differently—he saw potential. And maybe, just maybe, that meant she could find her place here, too.

Suddenly, the silence of the night was shattered by the sound of distant footsteps. Agatha and Aric both tensed, turning to see Hester and Anadil approaching from the shadows.

"Well, isn’t this cozy?" Hester sneered, her eyes darting between Agatha and Aric. "Plotting your next move, Agatha? Trying to worm your way out of the trial?"

Agatha stood up, squaring her shoulders. "I’m not trying to worm out of anything. I’m ready for the trial."

Hester smirked. "We’ll see about that. Just remember, the Witching Hour isn’t about who’s the strongest. It’s about who’s willing to do whatever it takes."

Anadil nodded, her expression as cold and calculating as ever. "And we’ll be watching."

Without another word, the two girls disappeared back into the night, leaving Agatha feeling a knot of dread in her stomach. She knew they were right. The Witching Hour wasn’t just about power—it was about ruthlessness. And in a place like this, ruthlessness was often rewarded.

Aric rose to his feet beside her, his eyes fixed on where Hester and Anadil had gone. "They’re scared of you," he said, his voice quiet.

Agatha blinked, startled. "What?"

"That’s why they’re coming after you. They see you as a threat."

Agatha shook her head. "I don’t think I’m a threat to anyone."

Aric’s eyes darkened. "You don’t see it yet. But you will."

Before Agatha could respond, a deafening crack tore through the air, echoing off the walls of the castle. The ground beneath them trembled violently, and a massive burst of dark energy shot up from the direction of the Tower of Doom, lighting the night sky with a sickly green glow.

Agatha’s heart leaped into her throat. “What was that?!”

Aric’s expression hardened, his posture immediately on alert. “Something’s wrong. We need to go.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the castle. Agatha’s pulse raced as they hurried down the stone pathways, weaving through the shadows toward the source of the disturbance. The sickly green glow grew brighter as they approached, casting eerie shadows across the courtyard.

When they reached the tower, they found a crowd of students gathered, their faces pale with fear. A massive crack had formed in the base of the tower, and dark energy was spilling out from the opening like black smoke.

“What’s happening?” Agatha asked, her voice trembling.

“It’s a breach,” Aric said grimly. “Someone—or something—is trying to break through the wards.”

Agatha’s blood ran cold. The wards around the School for Evil were meant to keep out the most dangerous creatures in the forest—the ones that even the Nevers feared. If the wards were failing, then something truly terrible was coming.

Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the shadows, their face obscured by the swirling smoke. Agatha’s heart nearly stopped when she recognized the silhouette.

It was Lady Lesso.

The Dean’s face was pale, her usually composed expression tight with worry. “The Witching Hour will have to wait,” she said, her voice calm but strained. “We have more pressing matters to attend to.”

The crowd murmured in confusion as Lady Lesso’s words sunk in. Agatha’s mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. Why had the wards failed? What was coming for them?

Aric stepped forward, his expression hard. “What do we do?”

Lady Lesso’s eyes flicked to him, then to Agatha. “We prepare for war.”

---

End of Chapter