How am I supposed to answer that? Would she even want the truth?

“I know these classes are hard for you,” Emmi continues, gently, like she’s handling me. “I know the other students give you a tough time about all this. Would you prefer a—”

A fist of energy erupts from the oak, blasting into my shoulder in a shower of bark. Kalma yowls and shoots off into the woods. The crows shriek and flap in the branches. I brush leaves out of my hair and check for damage. There’s a bubbly sear on the tree and a scorch mark across my jacket. Mom is not going to be pleased.

Was it Sini or Ekaterina? I search the woods, scanning the faces for a smirk. A second fist of energy rises out of the tree, but before it can reach me, it ignites into flame then shrivels into ash.

“Are you all right?” Natalie asks, tiwaz, a House Fajro rune, sparking in the air above her right hand.

My heart kicks double time as I try to nod and catch my breath. Natalie releases the rune and slips her hands back into her pockets as if what she did was no big deal. I still can’t breathe and it has nothing to do with being assaulted by magic.

“Who did that?” Emmi’s face turns an ominous purple.

Seventeen nervous, expectant faces peer out of the forest in tense silence.

“All of you, come here this minute.” Emmi turns every word into a sentence and we all obey.

“This is unacceptable,” Emmi begins. “If that was anything more than an accident, the culprit will face serious consequences. And do I need to remind you how precious elemental energy is?”

A few students roll their eyes as our teacher launches into yet another tirade on the importance of conserving magic and not wasting it on what she calls frivolities. I’m not convinced attempting to beat up a classmate with magic should count as mere silliness, though.

Greater Disciplinary Action Required for the Misuse of Magic

I start composing the article in my mind as I scowl at Ekaterina. It must’ve been her!

“Who has successfully imbued their amulet?” Emmi asks. No one raises their hand. “I see. You can’t find enough magic to charm a necklace, but you’ll waste it on nasty spells.” Her voice is steely and calm and terrifying. We all look down.

“Everybody, put your hand on a tree.”

We do.

“Do you feel that?” Emmi’s own hand rests close to mine on the injured oak.

Most of the others nod, a few frown or even grimace.

“A faint thrum, a gentle crackle, very little even at this time of year,” Emmi continues.

Rough bark, damp wood, cold air, and an itchy tingle in my palm. Great. Seems I’m developing an allergy to lichen.