Mixed—chapter nine: The Spell in the halls

Kael’s stone blazed blue in his hand, steady and unyielding. He grinned at me, even now. “Three… two… one—”

“FREEZOSIS!” I shouted, yanking my stone from my pocket. The glow wasn’t green, or red, or black—this time it flared a blinding orange.

The spell hit before I could even think. Juniper froze mid-step, eyes wide, her whole body locking stiff before she toppled to the floor like a statue.

My stomach dropped. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh—Juniper! What are you doing?” I scrambled to her side, tapping her palm four times the way the counterspell manuals had drilled into us.

She gasped, color rushing back into her face as she lurched upright. Then she swung at me, smacking the side of my head with surprising force. “What are you doing out?!” she hissed, her voice low but fierce.

I rubbed my temple, groaning. “You scared me!”

Kael scowled from behind me, his blue stone glowing faintly. “Mind your business, Nosey.”

Juniper’s red eyes narrowed, her purple stone flashing dimly at her side. “Excuse me?”

Kael folded his arms, scowling harder. “Yeah, you heard me. Don’t sneak around in the middle of the night unless you want to get hexed.”

She scowled right back, chin tilting up stubbornly. “Maybe if you two weren’t sneaking into places you shouldn’t, I wouldn’t have to.”

Juniper leaned in close, her red eyes flashing. “I heard yelling—it sounded like a spell. And now you just yelled a spell, Ryder!” Her voice was a harsh whisper, fast and clipped. “Teachers are so gonna come!”

My stomach twisted. She was right—my shout had echoed down the whole corridor.

Kael cursed under his breath, blue stone glowing faint in his grip. “Great. Just great. Loudmouth over here just set off every alarm spell within fifty feet.”

“I panicked!” I hissed back, running a hand through my hair. My Luminor still pulsed orange in my fist, mocking me. “She came out of nowhere—what was I supposed to do?”

“Not freeze me like a brick wall!” Juniper snapped, still rubbing her arms.

A flicker of white light spilled into the far end of the corridor—footsteps. A teacher.

Kael grabbed both our sleeves, his grin gone sharp and serious. “Argue later. Run now.”

Juniper’s eyes blazed as she jabbed a finger at me. “What if I was a teacher? And you froze them?”

I winced, heat crawling up my neck. “I dunno—use the mind wipe spell?”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?!” she hissed, voice cracking. “You’d wipe a professor’s mind?!”

“Better than sitting there with your mouth hanging open!” Kael cut in, scowling, his blue stone flickering bright in his hand.

Juniper turned on him, teeth clenched. “That’s illegal magic, Kael! Do you ever think before you—”

“Shhh!” I hissed, cutting her off as footsteps echoed closer down the corridor. A pale glow stretched across the wall. White light.

A professor was almost on us.

Our feet pounded the stone, the white glow stretching longer behind us with every step. I didn’t dare look back.

We skidded into the corridor that split toward our dorms, breath ragged.

“Go!” Kael barked, shoving my shoulder toward our door. We sprinted inside, the lantern clattering as I slammed it onto my desk. The door banged shut behind us, sealing out the echo of footsteps.

Juniper veered off at the last second, her braid whipping as she bolted toward her own hall. She glanced back once, red eyes narrowed, then vanished through her doorway.

I leaned against the wall, chest heaving, the Luminor still glowing faint orange in my fist.

Kael pressed his back to the door, sliding down until he sat on the floor. He let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That… was too close.”

I nodded slowly, my pulse still hammering. “Way too close.”

The corridor outside went silent. For now.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw him.

A tall figure stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, his Luminor glowing a steady blue. The faint light outlined his sharp jaw and calm eyes.

A fifth-year.

He tilted his head at us, voice quiet but firm. “You two best go to bed before a professor comes in.”

Kael froze, his back still against the door. “Taron… you scared the life out of me.”

The older boy smirked faintly, the glow of his stone never wavering. Taron Ravenholt—the grandchild of Professor Marlow. Loyal to a fault, but never a snitch.

“Relax,” he said. “I don’t care what you were doing. But if Thale or any of the others catch you out of bed this late, they’ll skin you alive.” His eyes flicked briefly to the orange glow still seeping through my fingers. He didn’t comment on it. Just turned toward his bunk and tugged the covers over his head.

“Sleep,” he muttered. “You’ll need it.”

Kael and I exchanged a glance. No words. Just a silent understanding: we were lucky tonight.

I shoved my Luminor deep under my pillow, willing it to stop pulsing.

Taron leaned against the ladder that led up to his bunk, a sly grin tugging at his mouth. “I heard you fourth-years are dissecting a toad tomorrow,” he said with a snigger. “Rotten things, those toads.”

Kael wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

Taron twirled lazily around the ladder rung, his blue stone casting calm light across the room. “Then after you carve it up, the fifth-years swoop in and stitch it back together. A neat little resurrection trick.” His grin widened, almost cruel. “Then the sixth-years? They kill it again—with spells that make your skin crawl. And then the cycle starts over. The next round of fourth-years cut ‘em open all over again.”

He hopped onto the ladder, swinging one leg up. “Circle of life, eh?”

Kael groaned. “Circle of nasty, more like.”

I shivered, my stomach twisting. My stone pulsed faintly under my pillow, and I shoved it deeper, hiding the orange glow.

Taron climbed halfway up, glanced back down at me, and smirked. “Don’t puke on your uniform tomorrow, Ravenwood. Professors don’t like messy desks.”

Then he disappeared into the shadows of his bunk, leaving me and Kael in silence.