Chapter 21
We were ready for war.
We had the resources. We had the manpower. We had a werewolf who could bench press a small sedan, a wolf who could melt into shadows, and an wolf with earth elemental who could convince concrete to apologize for being in his way.
We were ready for fireballs. For lightning strikes. For a desperate, blood-soaked last stand on the barricades of the Science Building.
What we got was... an email.
From: The Office of the Dean
To: All Students
Subject: Campus Safety & Wifi Maintenance
Due to recent structural instability in the Grand Ballroom (caused by unauthorized gardening), the campus is now under Level 4 Lockdown. All dorm wifi has been suspended until further notice. Also, due to supply chain issues, the cafeteria will only be serving oatmeal for the foreseeable future.
Regards,
Dean Marrow
"He cut the wifi?" Ivy shrieked.
The sound was so high-pitched it cracked a nearby glass beaker.
We were huddled in the Archives sub-basement, which Amelia had insisted on calling "The Resistance Headquarters" (though it mostly looked like a very fancy storage unit filled with dust motes and Arthur's anxiety).
Ivy was staring at her phone in horror. "Zero bars. I have zero bars. That monster! How am I supposed to stream my 'Chaos Witch Tutorials'? I have followers, Lina! Followers who need to know the proper way to hex an ex-boyfriend!"
"It's psychological warfare," Rhett said, pacing between stacks of ancient scrolls. The wolf was restless, his energy crackling in the small space. Every time he turned, his shoulders brushed against shelves filled with priceless magical artifacts. Arthur flinched with every pivot.
"He knows we can't coordinate without the group chat," Rhett continued, running a hand through his hair. "He's isolating the packs. Segmenting the population. It's classic siege tactics."
"We could use telepathy," Stone suggested.
The former Captain of the Guard was sitting on a crate of un-catalogued swords, polishing his badge with a level of dedication that was frankly concerning. He had officially "lost" his radio somewhere in the duck pond earlier that morning, a subtle mutiny that had cost him his uniform jacket.
"Telepathy gives me a headache," Ivy pouted, tossing her phone onto a pile of silk pillows she had summoned. "And it doesn't have emojis. How am I supposed to convey sarcasm without the rolling-eyes emoji? It’s a vital linguistic tool!"
"This isn't a siege," I realized, looking at the email again. "It's a timeout. He's treating us like misbehaving toddlers."
I looked around the room. My Triad. My friends. My weird, dysfunctional, powerful family.
"He thinks if he takes away our toys, we'll calm down," I said. "He thinks if he feeds us oatmeal, we'll lose our will to fight."
"Then we act like toddlers," Kai said.
I looked at the Earth Elemental. He was leaning against a wall of moss he had accidentally grown, holding a bag of seeds he probably shouldn't have had. A slow, wicked grin was spreading across his face—the kind of grin that usually preceded a geological event.
"Toddlers with access to high-level transmutation magic," Kai clarified.
I grinned back. "I think it's time for a playdate."
The "War" began at noon.
It started at the North Gate, the main entrance to the Science Quad. This was a strategic choke point, and Marrow knew it. He had stationed six of his "Elite" Enforcers there—the zombie-thralls who didn't blink and smelled like wet cardboard.
They stood in a formidable line, arms crossed, sunglasses on, blocking the path.
"No entry," the lead Enforcer droned. His voice was flat, devoid of inflection. "Dean's orders. Turn back."
"Or what?" Ivy asked, stepping out from behind a rhododendron bush.
She was wearing a trench coat, sunglasses, and a fedora. She looked like a noir detective who had been dressed by a drag queen.
"Or you will be detained," the Enforcer said.
"That sounds boring," Ivy yawned. "I have a better idea. How about... a fashion malfunction?"
She snapped her fingers.
It was a small spell. A tiny, insignificant hex usually reserved for high school bullies.
Elasticus Snapicus.
Simultaneously, the belts, suspenders, and elastic waistbands of all six Enforcers failed.
Gravity, as it turns out, is the great equalizer.
pants dropped.
All six of them. In perfect unison.
Revealing...
"Heart boxers?" I whispered from my hiding spot in the tree above. "Really?"
"Standard issue," Stone whispered back, sounding mortified. "It was a budget cut decision. We don't talk about it."
The Enforcers froze. Their programming clearly didn't cover "pantsing." They struggled to pull up their trousers while maintaining their menacing posture, which resulted in a sort of aggressive waddle.
"Whoops," Ivy giggled. "Slippery fingers!"
"Seize her!" the lead Enforcer shouted, shuffling forward with his pants around his ankles.
"I think not," Rook said, dropping down from the tree branch next to me.
The Fae professor landed lightly on the pavement. He dusted off his tweed jacket.
"Phase Two?" he asked.
"Phase Two," I confirmed.
Rook waved his hand. He didn't cast a hex. He cast an illusion.
Suddenly, the Enforcers weren't men anymore. To everyone watching (and a crowd of students had gathered), they looked like Mallard Ducks. Giant, angry, pants-less ducks.
"Quack?" one Enforcer asked, looking at his hands (which looked like wings).
"Quack! Quack!" the leader yelled, trying to issue orders.
The students lost it. Phones came out. The hashtag #DuckPatrol instantly started trending on the local mesh network Ivy had set up.
"Retreat!" the leader quacked.
The squad of ducks waddled away in shame.
"One point to Gryffindor," I muttered.
We moved to the Library next.
The Library was sacred ground. It was usually silent, smelling of old paper and silence spells. But Marrow had posted "Quiet Zone" signs everywhere, enforced by a nasty little hex that sealed your mouth shut if you spoke above a whisper.
"Oppressive," Arthur commented, looking at the signs with professional disdain. "Libraries should be quiet out of respect, not coercion."
"Fix it," I told Kai.
Kai touched the sign on the main door. He didn't break the spell. He inverted it.
The sign shimmered. The text changed from Quiet Zone to Mandatory Yodeling Area.
Arthur blinked. "Yodeling?"
"It seemed festive," Kai shrugged.
We hid behind the reference desk and watched.
A freshman walked in. He looked stressed. He was carrying a stack of books.
"I need to return these," he tried to say.
But what came out of his mouth was: "Yodel-ay-hee-hoo!"
He clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.
The librarian, Mrs. Pince (a stern woman who looked like she ate lemons for fun), looked up. "Excuse me?"
"I... YODEL-ODEL-AY-HEE-HOO!" the freshman bellowed, his voice amplified by the spell.
Mrs. Pince stood up, furious. "Young man! There is no yodeling in the—"
She paused. A look of horror crossed her face as the spell caught her too.
"YODEL-AY-HEE-HOO!" Mrs. Pince shrank back, horrified.
"I'm so sorry!" the freshman yodeled.
"It's not my fault!" Mrs. Pince yodeled back, in a beautiful, soaring falsetto.
Within ten minutes, the library sounded like a Swiss mountain range during mating season. Students were yodeling their study questions. Professors were yodeling their lectures.
"Is that... Beethoven?" Rhett asked, tilting his head.
"I think the History Department is yodeling the Fifth Symphony," I agreed.
It was chaos. It was noisy. And it was impossible to be afraid of a Dean when you were busy yodeling your lunch order.
Speaking of lunch.
Dining Hall A. 1:00 PM.
The mood was grim. Marrow hadn't been lying. The serving line contained exactly one option: Oatmeal.
Giant, industrial vats of gray, lumpy sludge. It smelled like wet cardboard and sadness.
"This is a war crime," a werewolf linebacker grumbled, poking the sludge with a spoon. "I need protein. This is... wallpaper paste."
"Eat up," a kitchen thrall droned. "Dean's orders. nutrients are sufficient."
I nudged Kai. "You're up, Green Thumb."
Kai walked into the cafeteria. He didn't look like a rebel. He looked like a guy who just wanted a snack.
He walked up to the main vat.
"Is this organic?" he asked the thrall.
"Nutrients are sufficient," the thrall repeated. "Eat."
Kai smiled. He rested his hand on the side of the metal vat.
"I think it needs a garnish," he whispered.
Bloom.
He pushed his magic into the oats. He found the tiny, dormant seeds of life within the grain—the memory of the field, the sun, the rain.
The oatmeal shuddered.
Then, it erupted.
Vibrant, neon-colored wildflowers burst from the gray sludge. Poppies, daisies, snapdragons. They grew impossibly fast, spilling over the sides of the vat, cascading onto the floor.
But these weren't normal flowers.
"Is that... chocolate?" a student asked, sniffing the air.
Kai grabbed a snapdragon and took a bite. "Semisweet," he confirmed. "The daisies are vanilla."
"Edible flowers!" the linebacker shouted.
The cafeteria exploded into cheers. Students rushed the salad bar, which was now a literal garden of candy-tasting flora.
"Eat the flowers!" someone chanted.
Marrow walked in at the exact moment a freshman threw a chocolate-tasting rose at a friend.
He froze. He looked at the ducks waddling past the window. He listened to the faint sound of yodeling coming from the library. He smelled the overwhelming scent of chocolate and pollen.
He looked at me.
I was standing on a table, holding a bouquet of edible tulips.
"He tried to make us miserable," I said to the room, my voice carrying over the cheers. "He tried to make us turn on each other."
I took a bite of a tulip.
"But he forgot one thing," I said, pointing a flower-stem at the Dean. "We're college students. We know how to make a party out of anything."
Marrow turned purple. He opened his mouth to yell, to summon the void, to do something.
But then, his phone buzzed.
And then another phone. And another.
The wifi was back.
A notification popped up on the giant screen usually reserved for announcements.
CAMPUS NEWS ALERT: Dean Marrow's car found in duck pond. Police suspect fowl play.
The room erupted in laughter.
Marrow didn't yell. He didn't fight. He just turned around and walked out, defeated by puns and pastry.
"Cozy war?" Rhett asked, hopping onto the table beside me and stealing a chocolate daisy.
"Cozy war," I agreed, leaning into him.
The terror was gone. The fear was broken.
We hadn't just survived the lockdown. We had turned it into a festival.