Chapter Thirty
The week vanished in a blur. One moment she was drowning in notes, color-coded flashcards, and whispered study sessions late into the night, and the next, she was sitting in a silent hall, staring down her first exam.
One paper, four sections, each one just as heavy as the last, and four hours to complete them all.
Gods. Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Anabelle swallowed and slowly leafed through the exam booklet, forcing herself to breathe. The layout was exactly what they’d been warned about, the first three sections divided by module, each split into multiple-choice questions followed by short-answer questions.
Okay. One step at a time. She decided to start with Governance.
The multiple choice flew by, almost embarrassingly so. Her pen barely paused as she marked answers, muscle memory taking over as facts surfaced without effort. When she reached the short question section, she straightened slightly.
Name all High Leaders in the council by faction.
List the date under which the monarchy was erected.
In terms of the caster community, name the highest governing body and describe its role in the supernatural hierarchy.
She blinked once, then began writing. This… wasn’t bad. Relatively easy, actually. Her lips twitched. Maybe she’d retained more than she’d given herself credit for.
With that small confidence boost, she turned the page and moved on to Laws and Regulations.
Ugh. If there was one module that had nearly broken her, it was this one. The material alone was overwhelming, endless clauses, amendments, subsections, but what made it truly painful was Professor Alaric Roarke.
The man had a gift for taking something straightforward and either over-complicating it into oblivion or explaining it so vaguely it might as well have been written in another language entirely.
If it hadn’t been for Rian’s quiet corrections whispered under his breath during lectures, or Dominik patiently breaking everything down during study sessions, she was certain she would fail this section outright.
She tackled the multiple choice first, just like before, and again found herself finishing faster than expected. Then came the short questions.
List the procedures required for a caster to apply for inter-realm travel.Name the law that prohibits casters from practicing in restricted zones, and state the reasons for its existence.In relation to caster regulations, identify the actions that would result in the removal of a caster’s registered status.
Her pen slowed. Gods. There were over a hundred laws governing casters alone. At least twelve regulation sections, each with their own exceptions, contingencies, and appeal pathways. The sheer volume of information was staggering.
She paused, exhaled, and forced herself to focus.
Piece by piece, it came back to her. Not perfectly, but enough. Once she found the thread, the logic followed. The system was strict, yes, but not cruel.
Kat hadn’t been wrong. The regulations weren’t designed to punish casters, they were designed to protect them.
To ensure that no innocent caster could ever be condemned for another’s crimes.
And while mistakes could happen, because no system was flawless, Kat’s framework made sure those mistakes were rare, caught quickly, and corrected within days.
That thought steadied her. Gods, Kat really was smart. Incredibly so.
By the time Anabelle lifted her head again, her hand ached, her brain buzzed, but she wasn’t panicking. She was tired. Overloaded. But still standing.
She was ripped out of her concentration by the sharp chime echoing through the hall. Half time.
Fuck. Two hours gone by, and she still had all of Ether Studies and the final section she hadn’t even skimmed yet. Her pulse kicked up. She straightened in her chair and forced herself to move. Fast.
She flipped to Section Three, and almost immediately, relief washed through her.
Rian had been right, annoyingly, reassuringly right.
Once the concepts clicked, they flowed. Ether compounds, frequency awareness, manipulation thresholds, her pen barely paused.
The answers felt less like memorization and more like explanation, like describing something she had felt rather than learned.
Okay. Good. Then she turned the page. And froze.
Section 4: Long Essay Question
Answer ONE question from the selection below. Your response must include detailed descriptions, explanations, and clear reasoning for each point made.
Her stomach dropped. An essay. A goddamn essay. Her eyes skimmed the options, horror mounting with every line.
Governance:
Option 1: Evaluate the effectiveness of centralized governance within the Supernatural Community.
In your answer, describe the structure and authority of governing bodies, explain how power is distributed among supernatural factions, and assess the advantages and limitations of centralized control in maintaining order and stability.
Laws and Regulations:
Option 2: Analyse the role of supernatural law in regulating caster behaviour. Your answer should describe key laws affecting casters, explain the rationale behind these regulations, and argue whether such laws successfully balance public safety with individual magical autonomy.
Casters and Ether Studies:
Option 3: Describe the fundamental properties of ether and explain the relationship between manipulation and capability.
In your answer, explain how casters perceive and interact with ether, describe how ether functions as a magical medium, and reason how improper ether usage can lead to instability or harm.
Option 4: Explain the importance of ether regulation within the caster’s body.
Your response should describe how ether flows through a caster, discuss why early training emphasizes restraint and discipline over power.
And critically evaluate the risks and moral concerns associated with manipulating ether beyond established limits.
Holy fucking shit balls.
No one had warned her about this. Not a single soul. She shot a look at the clock and nearly wept. Fifty-five minutes. That was it. Fuck. If she’d known, if she’d just known, she would’ve finished the other sections faster. Jesus Christ, she was so fucked.
Her pen began tapping against the desk in a frantic rhythm, her mind spiralling. Too much. Not enough time. Too many expectations.
Then, a movement caught her attention. Right at the tip of her pen, a tiny flower bloomed. Perfect. Delicate. Pink. Her breath stuttered, then steadied.
Cameron, she thought, a small smile tugging at her lips. He must be watching.
Breathe, Ani. You can do this. He would say. Right. She could do this.
She scanned the questions again. Option one would be the safest. She knew exactly what to write, she could structure it perfectly. But it was predictable. The easiest of all the options.
Her instincts tugged elsewhere. Options three and four felt… more her. More honest. More of what they probably would prefer, she thought. She exhaled sharply.
Fuck it. She chose Option 3.
She didn’t hesitate again. Her pen flew.
She wrote about ether as both presence and pressure, how casters perceived it not just as something external, but as something humming and within reach.
She explained manipulation not as dominance, but as negotiation, a dialogue between intent and restraint.
Ether wasn’t power, it was responsibility.
She argued that capability wasn’t measured by how much ether a caster could wield, but by how precisely they could control it.
That instability came not from weakness, but from arrogance.
From reaching before understanding. From forcing ether instead of listening to it.
From taking too much without being capable of wielding or redirecting the output.
She tied it all together, how improper usage fractured both body and mind, how training emphasized awareness over ambition, and how discipline was the difference between survival and destruction.
She was dimly aware of her hand cramping, of her heart pounding, of the world narrowing to ink and paper, but she didn’t stop. One sentence left. Just one.
She began writing it, summarizing everything in a single, deliberate thought, and then... the bell chimed.
Professor Roarke’s voice echoed through the vast examination hall, sharp and authoritative, cutting cleanly through the thick tension that still clung to the air.
“Pens and pencils down, everyone. You have five minutes to leave the hall in an orderly fashion. No running. No shoving.”
The scrape of chairs and the soft rustle of paper followed as students complied, hands stiff, shoulders tight.
“Your results will be emailed to your student accounts within the next three hours,” Roarke continued, his tone utterly unbothered by the collective anxiety blooming under his words. “If you receive less than sixty percent, report to either myself or Miss Marris. We will discuss your next steps.”
A pause.
“As for everyone else, you have the remainder of the day off. Week two begins tomorrow. Thank you.”
And just like that, it was over. The room felt… somber. Heavy. Like everyone had exhaled at once but none of them felt any better for it.
Sixty percent, Anabelle thought, her stomach twisting. Gods. She didn’t need to ace it, she just needed to pass. But that essay… Jesus.
She joined the slow stream of students filing out, her head buzzing, fingers still cramped like they were holding a pen that was no longer there.
Then she saw them. Dominik, Joshua, Cameron, and Rian were leaned casually against the stone wall outside the hall, except there was nothing casual about the way they straightened the second they spotted her.
Rian was the first to move. He crossed the distance in three long strides and wrapped her up in a warm, solid hug, chin resting briefly against the top of her head. “You okay, ladybug?” he murmured.
She snorted weakly, her face pressed into his chest. “Never better,” she deadpanned. Then her shoulders slumped. “That was awful, Ri. I’m not sure I passed. And why were we not warned there’d be an essay?”
His arms tightened just a little, grounding. “I’m sure you did fine.”
Cameron stepped closer, offering her an easy smile. “I second that.”
She turned her head toward him without fully leaving Rian’s embrace. “Thank you for the flower,” she said softly. “I think it stopped me from fully spiralling.”
Cameron’s expression gentled. “Anytime, Ani. I’m glad it helped. You’re probably just wound up because it’s fresh. That’ll ease.”
Dominik crossed his arms, watching her carefully. “Did they say when you’d know?”
She nodded. “Within three hours.”
Joshua stepped in then, close enough that she felt him before she saw him. His thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist, right over her pulse, slow and reassuring.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get some food in you. You need to decompress a little.”
She took a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and nodded, grateful, deeply, achingly grateful, for the distraction.
“Yeah,” she said. “Food sounds… really good.”