By that night, Cary got to what should have been the end of the New Testament. Only, the book continued on at that point; not with the final testament, but with more of the New Testament. Parts that weren't in her King James's version. Parts that she had never read before. They spoke of a man named Mohamed, who sounded remarkably like the man from Islam and the Quran. But the testament continued on with the same flow, in the same format and dialect as the rest of the testament. It felt as if they were likening the two men, Mohamed and Jesus, but without taking away the achievements of either man.

After finishing the extended New Testament, Cary went back to the beginning of it, skimming through those old parts. Watching for signs that the comparison had started earlier and that she had just missed it. Making sure that Jesus was still being framed as the son of God, and at the same time being God. Those parts were still in place, but the connection between them seemed looser. It was almost like the narrators, the writers of the gospels and letters, were allowing for the readers to take on the words of Jesus, without him being their messiah. Without him being their personal savior. She didn't like that one bit.

But the final testament was something else entirely. If anything, it was a breath of fresh air. There were no more stories about people of the past, or people in general. The narrative felt like it was God Himself speaking to her directly. Not to people like her, but her specifically. Everything that she read seemed to be exactly what she needed to hear. How people that disagreed with her weren't necessarily out to get her. How people that didn't believe what she believed weren't necessarily evil. And with being stuck at that school, surrounded by people doing magic, she needed that reassurance that they weren't necessarily witches.

On top of that, with what Ms. Scott had said, Cary was starting to expect a proper explanation any day. Every time that she headed into her science class, she would put away her bible, hoping that this day would be the day that it happened. The day that she would learn the truth. The class that she would finally let herself be herself. Be the person that everyone kept telling her that she was. All she needed was something that she could believe. Something that she could feel. Something she heard that just felt right. Felt like something that could be right, no matter who was telling her.

The moment that she could finally trust the people that she was surrounded by. Trust the teachers that were teaching her. Trust the adults.

She wasn't sure when she stopped thinking of them as witches. When they became people to her. When their magic stopped scaring her. When she started to hope that what they were saying was the truth, and not just some lie they tell all of the kids that they kidnap.

That day came on Wednesday.

"Good morning, class," Mr. Holder said, as he came into the room.

In his hands was a stack of pamphlets, which he started handing out even as he came in the door, heading for the teacher's desk in the distance. The pamphlets looked nice, well designed, and printed on the same shiny looking paper that Cary had often seen used for pamphlets back in the human realm. Despite the heading that was printed on it, she could almost convince herself that the pamphlet was made for classes back home. But printed on the front of the pamphlet in big, thick, black letters was "What is a Witch and How to Detect Them."

"As it is October now, we're starting a new unit today," Mr. Holder said. "It is a bit of a sensitive subject, so, Alisson, Jenna, your parents had requested that you be removed from this lesson. Feel free to head down to the library for the period."

"But... I want to hear this," one of the girls said, practically whining as she sat there. She was just getting the pile of pamphlets that were heading down her row, and she quickly grabbed one of them before passing the rest. "This looks interesting. What is a witch, exactly?"

"I'm sure the freak in the back knows all about it," Greg said, just loud enough for everyone in the class to hear. There was a splattering of laughs around him, his newfound friends. But it didn't flow much further.

"You can take the pamphlet with you," Mr. Holder said. "It covers most of what we're to discuss here. Fortunately, it's been updated recently, so the outdated detection methods have been removed. It's long since been disproven that witch marks only happen to real witches."

Before going any further into the lesson, Mr. Holder waited for the two girls to head out of the class. The one that had spoken refused to move for the longest time, as Mr. Holder just stared at her. But as the entire class started glaring over at her, she eventually relented, heading outside the room. After she left, she slammed the door behind her, sending a booming sound throughout the space.

"Uh, is she a witch, then?" came a question from the class. No one bothered to raise their hand, though, and the laughter that followed died quickly.

"Now, for the students who come here from the non-magical realms, we couldn't request permission from your parents," Mr. Holder said. He glanced around the room, not bothering to call out names, but he locked eyes with each of the students for a moment. Cary could tell when he looked over at David and her, but there seemed to be just as many stuck in with Greg and his group. "If you choose to opt out of this lesson, that will be fine. We'll be covering the less controversial aspects of this for the next week or so, and this lesson will not be on the test. It can be a bit unsettling for some."

"Yeah, freak," Greg said. He turned around in his chair, smiling back at Cary, as if to make sure that she knew he was referring to her. "Head off and join the other babies."

Cary tried to ignore him. She just crossed her arms, settling down into her chair. There was no way that she was missing this class. Slowly, the smile faded from Greg's face and he turned back to the front of the room.

"Very well, then," Mr. Holder said, when no one else showed signs of leaving the class. "As everyone knows, we are all sorcerers. Can anyone tell me what a sorcerer is?"

Several hands went up all over the class. Cary knew this one as well, or at least what she had been told up to that point. It was a person who came to their powers naturally, whether by developing them on their own or by making it into the magical realm just before their tenth birthday. Why that mattered, she wasn't sure, but she figured, she hoped, it would be covered in that class. The response that Mr. Holder got from one of the students near the front of the room was something along those lines, but said in a muffled voice that didn't carry to the back of the room.

"Exactly," Mr. Holder said, nodding. "So, as I said, we're all sorcerers here. And for those that care about such things, female sorcerers are called sorceresses. There is no overlap in titles between the groups of magic users. Now, who can tell me what a wizard is?"

This time, far fewer people's hands went up. However, David's hand spiked up the moment that the question was asked. Mr. Holder quickly called on him.

"A wizard is a person who learns to use magic through study," David said. "Using ancient tomes of knowledge on the subject called spell books."

"Close," Mr. Holder said. "It's more accurate that they learn to tap into the same magical abilities that we sorcerers come to naturally. Yes, it is through study, but the spell books are more of a stopgap measure. A way to speed up the process. If they were to come to the magical realm themselves and study under a sorcerer, they could still learn to tap into that same magical ability. Most require the use of certain artifacts or devices to tap into that power. The most common of such devices would, of course, be the wand. Now, who can tell me what a wiccan is?"

Cary sat up straighter in her seat when he asked this. At first, she thought he asked about witches. About the one thing that she was most interested in. But when she realized that he said wiccan, not witch, she slipped deeper into her chair.

None of the students raised their hands this time, and a few of them were looking around in confusion. Clearly, none of them were expecting the question. Cary thought that she heard one boy ask "What's a wiccan?"

"A wiccan is a person who uses nature to accomplish magical spells without tapping into the magical realm," Mr. Holder said. "Most of these are done through representational magic and sending out energies into the world around them. In much of the magical community, this is not considered real magic. However, there is some anecdotal evidence that there might be something to it. The dangerous part of this form of practicing magic user isn't with how they access magic, but where. This largely occurs in the non-magical realms, which as we all know has its own dangers."

It took Cary a moment to realize what he meant by that. That he was talking about the dangers of using magic on a non-magical realm. It was another subject that she had questions on, but that no one had explained properly just yet. It spoke to why they were trapped there, why they refused to let her go home. However, with the more burning question about to be answered, she didn't want to stop him as he continued with his explanation.

"Wiccans also have a tendency to be confused for witches, resulting in early deaths for many of them. Thankfully, that has changed as of late in the human and dwarven realms. However, the witch trials never did end in the goblin realm. Now, for the dangerous question, one that most students get wrong. What is a witch?"

The class fell into silence as the question, the word, hung in the air. No one offered a suggestion. No one raised their hand. No one made any half-handed comments, though Greg did turn around in his seat, pointing back at Cary.

"A witch is someone who steals their magic," Mr. Holder said. "Or in some way trades away a part of themselves to get it. This is not something that can be done by accident or by chance. This is an active choice made by the prospective witch. Now, many witches start out in life as sorcerers and sorceresses. And it happens a lot more often than most would like to admit. There are twenty-two students in this class and the chances are good that at least one of you will choose this path."

No one spoke. No one made a sound. And yet, despite the general din of fear that filtered through the class, Cary couldn't help but feel better. It was exactly what she needed to hear. Exactly the explanation that made sense. That worked with what she already knew about witches, that they were evil and were meant to be removed from society. And yet, at the same time, it made the prospect of there being witches, or even prospective witches, among them that more real.

So, Cary raised her hand.

"Yes, Cary?" Mr. Holder asked.

"If witches are so dangerous, and anyone could become a witch, how can you know who is still a sorcerer?"

"Great question. And we will be discussing detection methods... next year. That is not a topic for fifth graders. However, rest assured, the teachers and your headmaster, are all well equipped to detect them and remove them from the school before they can do too much damage. You'll just have to trust us. Think you can do that?"

"I guess," Cary said. And she was surprised to realize that she did. That Mr. Holder looked just like all the other teachers she's had over the years, and no more the scary witch he had seemed before. "Um, why didn't we discuss this topic sooner? I would have thought this lesson should be the first thing we went over in this class." It certainly would have saved her the weeks of sleepless nights. But she didn't want to admit that in front of the class.

"Well, Cary, for one thing, it has to do with the cutoff day, which was yesterday. Anyone coming of age at this point would fall into fourth grade, not fifth. And had we taught it first thing this year, it would have been back in August. So, you would have missed it."

Mr. Holder continued class from there, going into more details about the types of magic users and covering what was presented in the pamphlet. Cary glanced over at David, who was smiling over at her. Clearly, he knew her well enough to see that she was no longer struggling. That her worries about how her religion conflicted with her new life there was over.

Later that day, when she went back to her room to put her bible away after class, there was an envelope on her bed. The first of many letters from her grandparents. It was postmarked the day after she arrived there.