VENEFICA

[07] The Trance

Nick strode down the dimly lit hallway, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The apple in his hand spun effortlessly through the air, rising and falling in time with his steps. He barely acknowledged the students he passed—until her voice sliced through the air.

"You!" Abelle's hand clamped around his arm, nails digging in just enough to make a point. Her breathing was sharp, uneven—furious. "What the hell was that?" she snapped, shoving him back a step.

Nick barely blinked. He took a slow bite of his apple, chewing deliberately. "Excuse you?" His voice dripped with feigned confusion.

"Don't play dumb with me," she spat. "That room. The black mist. The doorway that disappeared. What the hell are you up to?"

Nick rolled his eyes and took another bite, his expression unreadable. "I don't know what you're talking about." He brushed past her, forcing her to step aside. "And even if I did, it would be none of your concern."

Abelle's fists clenched at her sides. "You always do this," she muttered. "You sneak around, stir up trouble, and then act like it's everyone else's fault when things go to shit."

Nick paused mid-step, turning slightly. "And you always do this," he shot back, his voice quiet but razor-sharp. "Pretend you're the moral compass when all you really want is a front-row seat to the chaos, so you can come in and be "little miss sunshine" and save the day."

Her jaw tightened. He wasn't wrong, and she hated that he wasn't wrong. "Why won't you just tell me what you're doing?" she demanded. "For once—just be honest."

Nick exhaled sharply through his nose, as if the request was both absurd and exhausting. He adjusted the ring on his finger—a nervous tic, not that he'd ever admit it. "Tell that to your little gossip group," he muttered, turning away.

Abelle huffed in disbelief, her frustration boiling over. "You prick." She didn't wait for his response. With a sharp pivot, she stormed in the opposite direction, arms crossed so tightly her nails dug into her own skin.

Nick watched her go, expression unreadable. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his gaze—hesitation, maybe. Regret. But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

He picked up his pace, his smirk returning as he approached the old limestone wall. His fingers pressed against the stone, muttering the incantation under his breath. The black mist swirled, reshaping into a familiar doorway.

This time, before stepping through, he cast a long, careful glance over his shoulder. No one was there. Still, he muttered a few extra words as a safeguard spell, an extra lock, just in case. Then, he disappeared inside.

As Abelle stormed down the hall, her fingers still curled into tight fists. Nick's words rattled inside her head, and she wanted to scream. He's hiding something. I know he is.

A loud thud sounded from the classroom to her left. She turned a corner, heading toward the infirmary. Her fingers still stung from a minor flare-up during spell practice that morning—a small price for getting angry enough to throw Nick against a wall. Maybe some burn salve would at least take the edge off.

But the second she stepped inside, she knew something was wrong.

Lily was convulsing on one of the infirmary beds. Her body jerked violently as the nurse rummaged for supplies.

"Hold her down!" the nurse instructed, but as she turned to grab a vial, her body swayed.

"Hey, are you—" Abelle started, but before she could finish, the nurse collapsed onto the floor. Abelle's heart slammed against her ribs. Her hands moved on instinct, hovering over Lily's forehead. Glowing green light pooled from her fingertips as she channeled the only spell she could think of: a peace charm, a grounding spell, anything to break this feverish thrashing.