The gaudy institute on a hill turned out to be more of an admission building than the hidden dragon institute. Most of the institute was subterranean. He needed to look no further than the large descending structures peaked down from the city proper of Fort Doral. Arches made of white stone supported the city's foundation above, stretching hundreds of meters wrapped with bronze dragons. Above the underground, a glowing nine-pointed star lit the undercity with a soft golden light.

He couldn't see the rest of the underground. Tall buildings lined the zig-zagging road leading to their destination. Besides the massive descending buildings and white arches, he couldn't see much else. The vast buildings blocked most of his view of the undercity. Fortunately, their destination was close.

Far from the more excellent parts of the underground, they arrived at their destination. It was a squat box of a building shaped like a coffin made in stone, wood, and the favored bronze of the area. Runes from the confederate lands covered the coffin of a building.

Morgan gestured for him to follow her.

She wore her new red robe with pride, and over her rested a broom. Black fly rested on her broom's head, glaring at any who drew too close. Large silver earrings dangled from Morgan's ears. Each held a tinted glass bobble, one green the other red. A fade spell wrapped around them to keep their qi hidden. All Lex could feel from it was a little heat.

Lex had dressed to impress. His robe was black with a silver dragon patch sewn onto it. Around his neck was a bronze chain holding the jade emblem of the hidden dragon institute. Morgan had insisted on attaching a bronze clip to the outer portion of his left ear. On his feet were a pair of soft leather sandals sewn together from some of Morrigan's old potions shoes. Lex had only protested when she powdered his face and bleached his eyebrows white. After her work was done, he looked at the part of an undead.

Morgan's breath hitched as three witches wearing red robes with orange-tipped hats approached. Knowledge of the girls in front of him poured from Morgan through the welded link. Suddenly, Lex felt underdressed.

To the left was Jean of Arc village, a tiny hamlet to the south. Slight Jean-D Arc had more than a few rumors circulating about her. Most found her hard to work with because of them. According to the words, her powers developed at eleven, as did most witches. Jean bonded a vicious demon and sent it to possess anyone who displeased her. She'd killed ten women between her and a man she crushed on. Then she killed him too when he didn't return her affection. Rarely did a 40-year-old landed knight pay attention to a peasant girl favoring other girls of a more suitable breeding and age. Before the inquisition caught up to her, an Institute scout found her and enrolled her here.

She was a blonde-haired woman with large innocent blue eyes; her luxurious blonde hair was held in a single long braid.

The girl smiled and him, and he understood. Only the vicious smile broke the facade and revealed the girl's true nature.

Time had filled her out from the 11-year-old she'd once been. Even though her baggy robe, large breast, and luscious hips expressed themselves, she had a small mole below her left eye and wore expensive makeup. At 15, she'd nearly fully matured in body and excelled in every craft taught to witches at the Hidden Dragon Institute, most of all in bonding spirits.

Standing with a deep blue complexion was her zombie. It was quickly 3m tall. The creature's arms looked like tree trunks attached to a horse reared up. The zombie's head had been flattened and squared extended upward until the skin stretched to the point of breaking. On each of the head's squared sides was a face. Lex had never seen anything like it, and the heat radiating from it sent a nasty chill to his spine. On its face was a mangled beard dyed a shade of indigo.

"Is that your zombie?" Her face scrunched up. "You should go far with it. Still, Blue Beard would squash him if they ever fought.." Jean said with a malicious grin.

He felt a warning like hells bells from Morgan. She smiled sweetly. "How's your sister? I heard she found a rich husband?" Lex heard Jean's teeth grind.

"Well, princess, I doubt any man would want a witch who has to buy potions from a local alchemist. I doubt your zombie would even make a decent coat rack. He's certainly skinny as one but so frail. Did he come like that, or is that what happens when you raise a corpse?" Jean yelled.

Morgan's eyes narrowed, and Black Fly's wings started buzzing. Blue Beard raised his six arms and smashed his fists together. The blow blasted out a shockwave and nearly knocked Lex off his feet. He felt like a bug under the foot of a giant. For a second, the zombie's qi felt like a house put to the torch.

A fan tapped Jean on the head, and the building heat died down. The dark olive-skinned hand attached to the fan could only belong to one student. Lex felt Morgan's dread and understood. Vast amounts of heat erupted from this teen greater than Jean or her zombie. She could only be Cleopatra of the South East. She came from a city near ancient Iskandaria and was named after the sister of the long-dead king of the universe, Iskandar.

Cleopatra had many problems that led her to this school. At eleven, she was an avid drinker, a worshiper of the heathen God Bacchus, and was known to get involved in wild parties even at an early age. When her parents tried to limit her indulgences, she spiked their wine with potions of sobriety. In their anger, her parents sent her far from the luxuries she enjoyed to the Duchy of Goth, where the wine was watered down, and the people were less indulgent.

She stood proud in her red robes with a hat tipped with a presumptuous orange. A golden necklace hung around her neck inlaid with rubies, each of which gave off a powerful heat. Squared golden earrings dangled from her ears. Cleo stood a head taller than Jean and wore her dark hair long down, covering her breasts. A jeweled band covered her head, hiding her tattoo. While her hips were wide, her frame with supple, and her breasts were almost flat compared to Jean.

Behind her was a linen-wrapped creature who wore an iron box over its head. A single glowing eye peaked from an iron grate staring out in curiosity. The creature's body was wrapped in bandages, and it looked dried out like jerky. The heat radiating from it was much stronger than that of Blue Beard. Its name was Amenhotep after a famous high priest of Amun, a mighty wind deity. Lex could feel a dry heat radiating from the creature. It wasn't like a burning house; it blew over him like hot desert winds.

"Don't judge an undead by its master. She used a fade technique to hide its power. I heard a rumor that she stabbed hundreds of needles into it, and the result covered her room with impurities. Where do you think she got that kind of power? Do you think she begged for a source from home?" Cleo looked up with a grin flashing white teeth between dark lips. Her brown eyes promised violence if they fought.

"You know my parents don't answer correspondence. That's something we have in common, right, Cleo." Morgan said.

Amenhotep stepped forward in a crouch in seconds. This would get violent. From its waist, it drew a blood-stained iron dagger nearly 25cm long. Blue Beard moved in, ready to turn this exchange into a one-sided beat down. Lex didn't know if they could beat either of the undead, much less both together.

"Enough," a familiar-looking woman with a haughty-looking nose and large pouty lips stepped forward. Unlike every other witch he'd seen, she wore an orange robe and walked as if she owned the building. Attendants scurried in her wake, and three undead flanked her. Two were tall and dressed in green robes. They reminded him of the snot-nosed Duke's son Jonna.

He felt power radiating off of the next group greater than Cleopatra. Each of them was a match for Cleo and her zombie. The name of this woman quickly came from Morgan. Halley Weston one of Duke Weston's daughters. By the zombies' appearances, they were her older brothers. One zombie was a minor child no older than 6. It stood with his own set of orange robes beside her. He, too, bore a resemblance.

She made undead out of her brothers. This was Halley the ambitious. She had killed every brother between her and the throne. Only Jonna had survived so far, and if this girl had her way, it wouldn't be for long. For some reason, the Duke hadn't intervened. Halley was the most dangerous witch in the room. Unlike the other two witches, who were talented in binding spirits and potions, Halley excelled in raising and controlling the undead.