If Cassian’s plan had any hope of succeeding, he needed to know exactly where Laney was for an extended stretch of time. Long enough to prepare properly. If she saw him make his preparations, she would counter easily.

  For all he knew, she could already be watching.

  Her illusion magic made paranoia reasonable. She could be leaning against a wall as a seam in the stone, or she could be nothing more than a distortion in the air itself.

  Cassian slowed his steps, eyes scanning the corridor without appearing to do so. Walls. Floor. Ceiling. Corners. Reflections in polished stone.

  Nothing out of place. Which meant nothing at all.

  She is methodical. She wouldn’t let me spot her so easily. He exhaled slowly.

  There was, however, a very simple solution. A place where she would have to be present. A moment where her location would be fixed by necessity. More importantly, somewhere, someone else would be keeping tabs on her. Provided he secured a bit of insurance first.

  Todd walked beside him looking uncharacteristically subdued. Sabrina kept glancing at Cassian in that quiet, searching way that made something in his chest tighten.

  He knew why. When Todd had brightly suggested they head to the special training room so he could begin working on the self-hypnosis spell, Cassian had shut him down. Now that Jurgen and Priscilla had abandoned the plan, he saw no reason to pursue it further.

  He had told Todd the simple truth.

  “I don’t believe I’ll be able to master the self-hypnosis spell before the day is done. And Laney will almost certainly challenge me before then.”

  That was only part of it though.

  In truth, he had very little hope of mastering it at all.

  There had been a time when he had entertained the idea of leaping ahead. He had mastered basic spells with embarrassing ease, though their output was always much weaker than it should have been. So, he had reasoned that if he learned an intermediate spell or an advanced one, even if his output remained pitiful, the structure of the spell itself might compensate. A stronger foundation, even with weak fuel. It had been na?ve.

  Every time he attempted something beyond his tier, it fizzled. Just the hollow sensation of mana collapsing before it could take shape.

  You cannot skip a rung on a ladder that refuses to hold your weight. Self-hypnosis belonged to that higher rung. It was not something he could simply will into existence in a few hurried hours. Maybe even not after weeks.

  The training had never truly been for him anyway. It had been meant to prepare Priscilla and Jurgen. If they succeeded against Laney, he would gain information. A weakness. A pattern. A flaw.

  And he had done just that. The plan, at least in that regard, had worked.

  They walked in strained silence until they reached the geography classroom.

  Todd groaned the moment he saw the door. “No. It’s too early. I already suffered ten whole extra minutes of Mysteries of Numbers, don’t do this to me, Cassian.”

  “You don’t have to stay,” Cassian replied evenly. “Go enjoy the rest of the midday lunch.”

  “I only need to retrieve something,” Cassian continued, already stepping inside. “And I require a word with Professor Atheros.”

  Behind him, Sabrina’s voice dropped into an urgent whisper.

  “I told you not to give him an inch. He’s going to-”

  Cassian stopped and turned. She cut herself off instantly. Todd and Sabrina exchanged a look, then followed him inside anyway.

  The classroom was empty, the lanterns along the walls still glowing in their muted between-class hue. Maps lined the walls, some static, others faintly animated with shifting borders and flowing trade lines.

  Cassian walked to his usual seat without hesitation. The geography classroom was arranged in long shared desks set in rows, each wide surface cluttered with rolled maps, measuring cords, chalk fragments, ink-stained rulers.

  He set his satchel down. In the same smooth motion, as though merely adjusting his books, his hand dipped into the open storage space beneath the desk’s surface. Fingers closed around the small scissors used for trimming parchment edges. He slid them into his pocket before straightening.

  It was seamless. Todd was still muttering behind him. Sabrina was watching Todd. Neither of them noticed.

  Good.

  The door opened.

  Professor Atheros stepped inside, staff in hand, the green orb at its crown dimly pulsing. He taught Geography of the Realms. Tall, meticulous, with a habit of adjusting his spectacles whenever someone misspoke about a border or a trade route.

  “My,” he said lightly, surveying the nearly empty room, “you are early. Eager to learn, I trust.”

  Todd groaned under his breath. Professor Atheros continued forward as if he had heard nothing.

  Cassian rose slightly from his seat. “There is something I wished to ask, Professor.”

  The professor arched an eyebrow. “Is there?”

  Cassian inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Time passed.

  Students began filing in as the lantern at the front of the classroom shifted color, signaling the next lesson. Chairs scraped. Conversations rose and fell. Maps rustled. Laney entered among the last. She paused when she saw Cassian already seated.

  Then, composed as ever, she walked to her usual place near the back of the room and sat. Professor Atheros tapped his staff once against the stone floor.

  “Take your seats. We will begin shortly.” He adjusted his spectacles. “However, before we start, Mr. Viamnova has raised an interesting inquiry.”

  A few heads turned.

  “He wished to know whether there exists a simple method to reveal illusions.”

  Laney did not move.

  “Well,” the professor continued mildly, “there is.”

  He lifted his staff and struck it firmly against the ground. The orb flared. A green ripple pulsed outward across the classroom floor like a widening ring of light. It washed over desks. Over walls. Over students.

  When it passed over Laney, she began to glow.

  Softly at first. Then brightly. Her form shimmered. And dissolved into mist. A collective murmur spread through the room.

  Professor Atheros peered over his spectacles. “My, my. You were quite right, Mr. Viamnova. There was indeed an illusion among us.”

  He lifted the staff again, the orb now glowing brighter.

  “Fortunately,” he said, “this instrument also allows me to locate individuals within a radius of approximately ten kilometers.”

  He traced a small circle in the air with the staff. The orb responded, swirling with green light. An image formed within it.

  Laney.

  Standing in the special training grounds. The professor leaned toward the orb.

  “Miss Perpetomundus.”

  In the image, Laney stiffened. Her head turned sharply.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  For a fleeting second, her composure cracked. Surprise flickered across her face. She looked upward. As though seeing the orb.

  “You are, I believe, obligated to attend my class in person,” Professor Atheros said calmly. “Not to delegate attendance to an illusion.”

  He lowered the staff slightly.

  “I will grant you five minutes to present yourself here. After that, I will be forced to consider suspension.”

  The orb dimmed.

  “Very well,” Professor Aethros said, the staff settling lightly against the stone. “Open your books to page one hundred and fifteen. Today we begin the Lands of the Dragons.”

  Pages rustled. Maps unfolded. Ink illustrations of jagged mountain ranges and scorched plains filled the desks. The professor began describing volcanic chains, migratory patterns of lesser drakes, territorial boundaries that shifted every few decades depending on which ancient wyrm decided to claim dominance.

  The lesson flowed with surprising normalcy. Until a knock echoed at the door. Professor Atheros did not turn immediately. “Come in.” he said.

  Laney entered. Composed. Neat. As if she had been nowhere else.

  “Well,” the professor said mildly, “that did not take you long. Two minutes, perhaps?”

  “It would have been less,” she replied smoothly, “but I had to make myself presentable again.”

  “I imagine you did.” He studied her. “I dread to think how many of my classes you have attended in spirit rather than in person.”

  “I assure you, Professor, it was no more than six.”

  Atheros hummed. “To trick me that many times, you must have done something right.” He tapped the staff once. “This will serve as your warning. From now on, you will attend in person. If you attempt to deceive me again, I am considering a month of detention.”

  “Yes, Professor.”

  She walked calmly to her seat. As she passed Cassian, she inclined her head slightly in a silent bow. A whisper brushed his ear carrying Laney’s voice.

  “I see you will not be an easy opponent. It seems our duel has already begun. You will not allow me to prepare freely. But now you are the one bound here with me. Very well. Let us settle this with who is the better duelist, no tricks.”

  The whisper faded. Laney took her seat.

  Cassian forced himself not to smile. Not yet.

  He raised his hand.

  Professor Atheros looked at him over his spectacles. “Yes, Mr. Viamnova? Planning to expose another lost student? If you are please revealing all the ones, you know off.”

  “No, Professor. I intend to be the one leaving.”

  Atheros lifted an eyebrow. “Explain your meaning.”

  “One of my privileges after the Special Quest,” Cassian said evenly, “is exemption from the middle-of-the-year examinations.”

  “Ah! Yes, that is correct. And I assume you’ll invoke another one of your little privileges now.”

  “Indeed, if I believe I have already mastered the material, I am not required to attend the lesson. Provided I stay in the academy”

  A faint smile touched the professor’s lips. “A dangerous privilege. Miss too many subjects and you will end up unequal to the second part of the year.”

  “This will not be habitual,” Cassian replied quickly. “However, regarding the Lands of the Dragons the Viamnovas hold lands along the Ember March,” Cassian said.

  “Yes,” Professor Atheros replied, “but I do believe you were not raised there. Being of the main line of the Viamnovas, you would have been raised here in the capital.”

  “Yes, Professor. But my father took me there often. He made sure I learned about the terrain.”

  “He would do so, wouldn’t they?” Atheros said thoughtfully. “I seem to forget, could you tell me the name of the castle you have over there?”

  “It is called Journey’s End. It was established in the same place the last human encampment stood during the Great War. The place where Leonard Viamnova proclaimed himself the first Sorcerer Supreme.” Cassian answered.

  “Of course. Every commoner knows that story,” the professor said. “Could you tell me the name of the disputed lands? The ones that both the Viamnova and the dragons claimed as their own?”

  “The Ash Corridors,” Cassian replied. “Though they are not disputed anymore. As of twenty years ago, the dragons forfeited their claim to them.”

  Atheros nodded. “Yes. Very well. You are dismissed. I do pray you do not make this a habit. It is for your own good that you come to classes.”

  “Yes, Professor.”

  Cassian gathered his things. At the doorway, he turned to look at Laney, and he couldn’t help himself anymore, he smiled.

  Cassian had already chosen the place where he would wait.

  It was right beside the classroom of Mysteries of Numbers, where the first duel of the day between Laney and Jurgen had taken place. The corridor was quiet now. First and second years were the only ones who took lessons on the first floor of the Tower, and both groups had already passed through earlier. No Cognit stopped nearby, no steady flow of students crossed that stretch of hall.

  It was perfect.

  He leaned back against the wall, arms loosely folded, gaze unfocused but alert.

  The first person to find him was Sabrina.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be training or something.”

  “No,” he answered calmly. “There’s no time for that. And you can tell Laney I’m here. Waiting. She can come whenever she pleases.”

  Sabrina tilted her head. “Are you sure, Cassian? I… I thought you would prepare more. You trained so hard for the battle against your cousins. I was expecting…” Her voice softened. “More.”

  “There isn’t much more I can do,” he said. “Back then, I had time.”

  “So, you’re just going to fight and hope you win?”

  He looked at her then.

  She reacted at once. A faint flush crept across her cheeks, and she had to look away.

  He didn’t understand what he had done.

  “Sabrina?”

  “You’ll have to trust me on this one.”

  That only made her blush deepen. She swallowed.

  “Yes. I… I will. I’ll believe in you.”

  “Are you going to the next class?” she asked after a moment.

  “I’ve already spoken to the professors for the rest of today’s lessons,” he said. “I’ll be absent.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Alright.”

  And then she left him there in the quiet corridor, alone with the echo of his own resolve.

  ime passed. Cassian suspected he would have been bored if not for the relentless pounding of his heart. It beat harder than he had ever felt it, each pulse sharp in his ears. He forced himself to keep scanning the corridor without seeming to. Walls. Floor. Ceiling. Corners. Any shimmer. Any seam in the air.

  Nothing.

  Students began to arrive as the final lesson of the day approached, the one that would have been Practical Magic. Todd came first, practically vibrating with excitement, ready to cheer him on. Sabrina followed, worry still etched across her features, though hope lingered behind it. Jurgen’s circle entered next, then Priscilla and hers. No one spoke. They drifted to opposite sides of the corridor and watched.

  Soon nearly the entire class had gathered, whispers rising and falling like wind through reeds. Cassian thought briefly that Professor Illustrious would be enjoying a very peaceful lesson today.

  Then her voice came.

  “I see you are prepared, Mr. Viamnova.”

  The students parted. Laney walked calmly toward him.

  “So-”

  “Laney Perpetomundus. I challenge you to a duel.”

  His sword was already in his left hand. He did not wait.

  “Wind charge.”

  Wind surged. He shot forward, propelling himself toward a point where, to every eye present, there was nothing at all. Then she appeared.

  The real Laney stumbled into view, shock breaking across her composed expression. For the first time since he had known her, she looked genuinely caught.

  She had been the second to arrive in the corridor earlier, shortly after Sabrina had come and left. She had returned camouflaged, silent, invisible. Or so she had believed. Cassian had learned something from her duel with Priscilla.

  Illusions did not interact with the physical world. They mimicked movement. They pretended to step, to shift, to fall. But in essence it was a lie. They could not disturb what lay around them. During the previous duel, they had passed through scattered fragments of stone without so much as nudging a pebble.

  They could not affect the world. Only the real Laney could. So only the real Laney could disturb what lay around her.

  And so, he had made a plan.

  Earlier, in a single motion, he had taken the scissors from the geography classroom making sure that even if Laney was watching she would not notice, then when he left the classroom, he used it to cut his own hair. He had grimaced at the thought of how it would look, but vanity was a small sacrifice.

  He had traced two faint lines across the corridor floor and taken his position between them. So that his golden fair would be almost invisible to anyone that didn’t know they were there. Then he had done nothing but wait, eyes wandering, posture relaxed, as though he were searching blindly for an opponent he could not see.

  The hardest part was the pretending. He had seen the moment one of the lines of hair was disturbed, a strand of his hair stuck itself to the underside of an unsuspecting shoe and thus he had known for all this time exactly where Laney was.

  He had not looked at her. He had looked everywhere else. Pretending to look for her, waiting for a fake Laney to present herself so he could begin, and end the duel.

  It had worked. But now she was moving. She realized in time. His wind charge was not fast enough. Not strong enough. His weak magic had betrayed him again.

  He cut through the space where she had stood, his blade grazing only the very ends of her hair. No contact. No victory.

  She staggered back a step, surprised but unharmed.

  If he let her retreat even one more stride, she would vanish. Blend into the stone. Split into reflections. Attack from nowhere. All his preparation would amount to nothing.

  He would lose.

  Panic clawed at him. For one blinding instant, his mind emptied.

  Then he remembered his mother’s voice.

  If your charge makes an enemy retreat, keep pressing them! Use your momentum to strike again and knock them dead!

  He let the momentum of the charge carry him down onto his left foot. Instead of stopping, he shifted his weight fully onto it. His hips turned. His shoulders followed. He drove from his legs, from his core, not from desperation but from structure.

  Mana surged through his right arm, all the way to the shoulder. One straight punch. Laney’s expression flickered. Surprise, just for a heartbeat.

  “How disappointing,” she murmured.

  Her hand rose. A spiral of violet energy was already formed in her palm. She had not been idle. She had prepared the spell beforehand. Whether out of caution or suspicion, whether she had sensed he might have laid some unseen trap, she had come ready. And her preparation paid off.

  He was already committed. Mid-lunge. No angle to evade. The spiral bloomed before his eyes and rushed inward. He saw the purple pattern swallow his vision.

  I’ve lost. He thought in despair. And then.

  Wham.

  His fist connected. A solid, brutal impact against her mouth. Laney’s head snapped back. For a brief second, she looked dazed, as if the world had shifted out from under her.

  Then she fell.

  Defeated.