"Oh, spare me your stubborn pride, Headmaster." Bella Coren collapsed onto a nearby stool with deliberate carelessness, crossing her legs with casual disregard for propriety. "Shall I summon Vanessa to evaluate precisely how pitiful your barrier construction truly is? Or perhaps our precocious little prodigy Pierce? You must recognize your limitations, Patrick. You were Doranar Academy's most brilliant student, and remain one of Saint Asini's most accomplished practitioners throughout its history—but Doranar specializes in offensive arcana." She paused, tempering her frustration. "Not defensive enchantments or portal manipulation like Moslander."

  "Vanessa may be the Dean of Moslander, but defensive magic is hardly her forte. And Pierce… I don't deny the boy's prodigious talent, but he is still just that -- a boy. He has a long road ahead of him, one he deserves the chance to walk."

  "As should yours, my dear." Bella rose and enveloped Patrick Fort in a gentle embrace that he accepted without resistance. "Your own path remains largely unexplored. Don't presume to shoulder every burden alone."

  The young headmaster rested his hand tentatively against Bella Coren's back. "Perhaps this is my path. The destiny woven for me, by virtue of my station as Headmaster of Saint Asini."

  The vice-principal abruptly disengaged herself. "Very well. Since you've invoked cosmic destiny, further discourse becomes futile." With the ball of her thumb, she roughly smudged at her cheek, the moisture of her tears creating a faint, greyish streak through her carefully applied powder. "When your heroic posturing inevitably results in your evisceration upon a Godman blade, you understand perfectly who will mourn your absence, whose heart will shatter irreparably. I assure you it won't be me, Patrick. Absolutely not." She averted her face, concealing her tear-reddened eyes.

  Patrick Fort stood rooted to the spot, a statue of feigned indifference. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to close the distance, to wrap his arms around her from behind, to offer comfort to that trembling, fragile back. Yet he resisted, understanding that surrendering to compassion now would simultaneously dissolve his courage. "Don't inform her," he finally broke the protracted silence. "I implore you, Bella."

  "What?!" Bella Coren pivoted sharply, her turbid gray-black eyes fixating upon him with fierce intensity, her luxuriant chestnut curls whirling dramatically through the air. "Have you progressed to mental intrusion now?"

  "Nothing so invasive, Bella. The conclusion merely requires elementary deduction."

  "...Your capacity for effortless deception has become truly remarkable, Mr. Fort." The vice-principal's tone carried glacial displeasure. "I recognize that even Monica's intervention wouldn't dissuade your self-destructive course. However!" she emphasized forcefully, "She deserves knowledge of your impending sacrifice."

  "Please, Bella." Patrick Fort's tone maintained its characteristic gentleness, merely softening further. "Such information would serve no constructive purpose."

  "Then why, in all the hells, must I be burdened with this knowledge?!" Bella finally shrieked, the words tearing from her throat as fresh tears traced paths to the corners of her trembling lips. "Why does Monica Dunston get to swan about in some foreign land, blissfully ignorant, while I am left here to be torn apart by fear, to be sick with worry over your impending, witless suicide?! Why is it always me who must bear this torment?!" Patrick extended his arms, drawing her against his shoulder. "Why..." Her resistance finally crumbled completely, years of suppressed sorrow saturating Patrick's pale yellow garment.

  "Please understand."

  "You unconscionable bastard!" The vice-principal thrust him violently away, her eyes simultaneously luminous with unshed tears and smoldering fury. "Your tenderness emerges exclusively during moments of manipulation—and constitutes nothing but calculated falsehood. Why..." She inhaled shakily. "Why must you employ such exquisite cruelty?"

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  Patrick Fort seemed entirely uncertain how to position his hands. Bella Coren lowered her eyelashes, focusing on the indistinct floor beneath her. After considerable silence, she raised her head, summoning a reasonable facsimile of her customary smile. "How utterly ridiculous," she observed quietly. "Such foolish tears from an equally foolish woman. Sorceresses should maintain perpetual composure."

  The young man hesitated visibly before attempting any action. When he tentatively extended his hand, she withdrew before contact could occur. "I shall prepare the necessary portal," Bella stated with deliberate brevity. "Then accompany you into oblivion."

  "Your presence is required here." Patrick appeared genuinely startled by her proposition.

  "For what conceivable reason?" she countered immediately. "If you intend to manifest an Asiro Barrier, my assistance would prove invaluable."

  "I can accomplish it independently, Bella."

  "Absolutely not, Patrick." The sorceress's demeanor hardened perceptibly. "If you genuinely believe yourself capable of independently controlling an extensive layered barrier, you've succumbed to dangerous delusion."

  "My need for you is here, Bella," the Headmaster insisted, his composure a placid lake in the midst of her storm. "I need you to protect our children."

  Bella's lips, poised for immediate rebuttal, froze as though affected by a paralysis hex. "Clarify your meaning."

  "The statement requires no elaboration."

  "You expect me to protect the students?! You anticipate the Godmans..." she paused, momentarily breathless, "believe they might reach Saint Asini's very threshold?!"

  "The possibility cannot be dismissed."

  Bella regulated her breathing deliberately, recalling Patrick's previous expressions of concern regarding the city's defenses—concerns she had once shared. "You articulated this precise sentiment previously, Bella. We must maintain constant preparedness—readiness to confront Godman forces, to shield every child within our academy."

  "I retain perfect recollection of my own pronouncements," the vice-principal murmured. "Indeed, the wall merits no confidence, the military personnel warrant no trust, Duke Pafaheim deserves no faith. And perhaps Patrick Fort has similarly proven unreliable." The young man managed a wan smile.

  "Then I must decline your invitation to mutual annihilation." She affected movement toward departure. "And I find the very air in this room has grown stale in your company. I shall take my leave."

  "Thank you." The boy exhaled with palpable relief. "The portal," he reminded gently.

  Bella Coren offered no direct acknowledgment, instead stating: "Refrain from attempting a layered barrier."

  "I understand. My approach is thoroughly considered."

  "One certainly hopes..." Suddenly she emitted a startled exclamation, retracting her hand sharply from its approach toward the door. A translucent golden hemisphere materialized before her, its surface shimmering with arcane energy.

  "...I merely neglected to retrieve my spectacles."

  The boy observed as Bella stooped to recover her fallen eyewear, his expression betraying subtle satisfaction. "You would be well advised to abandon such experiments," she cautioned, carefully repositioning the frames upon her nose. "That particular manipulation exceeds even layered barriers in potential hazard."

  "Yet I demonstrated sufficient control. You witnessed it personally."

  "What I observed," she replied with penetrating intensity, "was a barrier barely adequate to encompass that wooden portal."

  The Headmaster opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and closed it again. "Integrating offensive enchantments into barrier matrices requires Source expenditure beyond reasonable estimation. That modest shield alone must have consumed approximately five tiers of magical energy."

  Patrick Fort's reply was clipped, almost frosty. "Only three."

  "One sincerely hopes that assessment proves accurate." Bella Coren deliberately averted her gaze from Patrick, the young man who had always occupied a privileged position within her emotional landscape. "I shall prepare the portal within the dining hall."

  "You have my gratitude."

  "And Patrick," she said, her voice suddenly soft, as her hand passed without resistance through the fading golden light of the ward to grasp the doorknob. "Try not to die."

  The boy manufactured a smile she never witnessed. "I shall endeavor not to, Bella."