The midnight air in Blackmoor Academy's East Wing crackled with secrecy—and the faint aroma of buttered popcorn.
Hope, London, Raphael, Stephen, and Daemon huddled inside an oversized tapestry depicting a wizard riding a giant toad. It was the perfect stakeout spot—if you counted plus- or minus-the-tadpole odor.
Stephen crammed another handful of popcorn into his mouth.
"Seriously, lads, nowhere in the handbook does it say 'bring snacks' … but I'm thinking we should petition for an amendment."
Daemon didn't flinch as a kernel ricocheted off his shoulder. He glanced at Stephen with that trademark deadpan look that said "One more kernel and I might bite you."
Hope whispered, "Stephen, please focus. Trent's chamber is two doors down, east side. You know, the one with the claw-mark sigil?"
Stephen unwrapped a glittery sight-enhancing monocle. "Got it.Claw-mark sigil. East side. Cover me while I take a look through Professor Grimshaw's bottomless teacup."
He levitated a china teacup from their cart of stakeout supplies—complete with blankets, a half-lit lantern, and a frightened dorm mouse named Mr. Tibbles. Then he peered in.
"Looks like… more tea," Stephen announced gravely. "Drat."
London muttered, "Why are we using a teacup as binoculars?"
Stephen piped up, popping his monocle back in place: "Better than the crystal ball we tried yesterday—it kept predicting 'RAIN'… even in the underground tunnels."
Raphael rolled his eyes (in wolf form, which is… a lot of rolling). "Can we just… watch Trent?"
Stephen snorted. "With tea? Without tea? It's a choice." He polished the cup as if itwere holy.
---
Ten minutes later, the group had established:
Hope crouched on a wooden chest, trying not to creak.
London hovered behind her, flames dimmed to a soft glow, heart beating in time with hers.
Raphael lay flat on his stomach, tail wagging in suppressed excitement.
Stephen balanced precariously on Daemon's shoulders, teacup still in hand.
Daemon stared stoically at the door, because someone needed to.
Inside Trent's chamber, faint candlelight flickered over shelves of warlock tomes and a half-finished water-breathing potion bubbling ominously.
"Alright," Stephen whispered, "on my mark…"
He sneezed. The monocle flew askew.
Daemon pinched Stephen's arm. "Must you—"
But it was too late. A creak from the tapestry, a rattled teacup, and all eyes snapped to the door.
Trent appeared, yawning. He held… a squeaky rubber duck?
Hope face-palmed. "What in—"
Stephen burst out laughing, accidentally dropping the teacup, which shattered and rained popcorn on Raphael.
Raphael leapt up mid-snack, popcorn scattering like confetti. "Party time?" he howled—loud enough to echo through the hallway.Trent froze, rubber duck in hand. "You guys… should not be here."
---
After the initial awkward moment, the group scurried inside Trent's chamber—Stephen somersaulting over Raphael, Daemon gliding in coolly, and Hope and London following.
Trent raised an eyebrow. "You came all the way here… to see me with my rubber duck?"
London cleared his throat. "We… had popcorn."
Stephen intervened, offering Trent the teacup handle (because sharing is caring). "Truce? I'll… invest in a less loud monocle."
Trent sighed, but the tension eased as Stephen winked. "No judgment on the duck. I have stress balls shaped like parsley."
---But then Daemon noticed something: behind a loose brick, a scrap of parchment matching the rebellious script.
He pocketed it. "Care to explain this?"
Trent's eyes flickered. "I… uh… I should've told you."
Hope folded her arms. "You're the traitor. We saw you in the mirror—scar across the neck—"
Trent stammered. "I… I'm sorry. I did open the door. But I didn't send the shadow creature. I meant to warn the Council—show them the injustice—"
Stephen leaned forward conspiratorially. "So… not evil mastermind, just misguided intern who pressed the Big Red Button?"
"Something like that!" Trent ran a hand through his hair. "I thought if they saw the weapon—or the Oracle—they'd finally change the rules. But I lost control… and then Sera took over."
Hope's expression softened. "You're not beyond saving. But you have to help us stop her."
Raphael nudged Trent. "Welcome to the wolf pack. You're on very thin ice, but you make good popcorn victims."
Stephen clapped his hands. "Team 'Stop the Rebellion from Going Full-On Apocalypse'—we have a new member! Now, who wants to buy popcorn at cost?"
Daemon simply shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.
Trent swallowed. "Okay. What's next?"
Hope exchanged a look with London. "We prepare. We gather proof. And we take down Sera before the weapon—whatever it is—wakes up."
Stephen popped another handful of popcorn. "To teamwork! And… maybe a new monocle."
Beneath the laughter and camaraderie, the spark of something stronger united them all:
A tribrid destined to save or destroy.
A phoenix bound by fate.
A werewolf who sees beyond the hunt.
And two vampire brothers—one playful, one protective—who just might steal your heart.