Usually, our school cafeteria was a chatty place. Usually, people discussed Instagram fad, homework, or homecoming here. But today, silence reigned in place of gossip.

Summer Hill was a close-knit community. Even for a town used to weirdness, one couldn't just murder someone without attracting attention. Rumors of what happened to Mrs. Turner filled the uni cafeteria as I walked through it with cuttlefish soup and a New York-style bagel on her tray.

But I was safe now. I went shopping in nearby towns with Darcy's money and bought a Jörmungandr-shaped Viking bracelet wrought of pure iron. I proudly wore around my wrist against fairy-aligned demons like the Cad Goddeau. Just in case, I also got a crucifix in my bag against more Christian demons – aka devils - and a rabbit foot for general wards.

I also bought a dress like the one Darcy suggested. Horizontal stripes of alternating blue and white made it look like shimmering sea water while its wide, breezy nature and its lightweight fabric ensured I didn't sweat. It wasn't revealing, but more colorful than my usual sweaters. Downside: It made me visible. Lucy's group gave me snide looks and you can't believe how much I wish I had a bracelet against that.

My training was less fortunate. I couldn't move the pen farther than about twenty feet, though, on the plus side, I successfully flipped it more than five times in a row.

Simon arrived in a silent corner separated from the rest by two empty tables. He wore a dark grey turtleneck without food on his tray. Did he plan to eat at home? Or at all?

Neither of us spoke a word. Neither of us knew how to do it without being heard. How did Simon feel about last Friday? Did he get over it or was the powerlessness he experienced why he didn't eat? I had no idea how to even ask him without sounding awkward.

Siris, I thought. What am I allowed to say?

"Well," he said, "the rules of the Veil are something us spirits aren't allowed to share, but I can paraphrase them. One rule says that we can't allow the dissemination of information about the supernatural. However, information about the Erlking is already available to some people. You can talk about what's publicly known, but anything more is forbidden in a space like this."

A wrinkled piece of paper occupied Simon as he scribbled his wandering thoughts on the page.

With Siris' hint, Marissa had an idea of how to start the conversation without sounding awkward. "What have you found out about Mrs. Turner?"

"It's bad," he said, switching to a casual, businesslike tone. "She got a cocktail of every disease and then some. There's no way to cure her, but Dad said it's not infectious."

"Sorry to hear that," I said. If I only knew a less obvious answer. I wanted to speculate with him about causes, but how? How did I do that?

Simon put his pen away. "I need your help on an assignment," he said and revealed a written note. "Write what you have to say about the Erlking here. No-one can hear it. I'll burn the paper later, it's a text chat with maximum data security. If anyone asks, we're working on an assignment."

I nodded. Loving the idea, I grabbed the pen and wrote my first question."Cause for disease?"

"Dad thinks curse. Relatives got books that even Dad and Darce don't have time to read."

"Erlking Motives?"

"Dunno. Guesses?"

"Fame (maybe)? Heard supernaturals get power through awareness. Erlking Basement?"

"Dunno. Suspects?"

"Titania and him."

"Plan?"

"You get books. I go to magic school and learn stuff."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Can't think. Destroy the paper."

"Are you sure? Can I do more? Like, hands-on stuff?"

I looked at him. Could he? I wasn't even sure if I was strong enough to protect myself, let alone a potential sidekick. "Yes, I am. Destroy it."

Before I could continue my soup, I heard Isa's voice behind me. "Hey, what's that paper, Mars?"

If I were less of a jumpy person, maybe I wouldn't have spilled those drops of soup.

Isa sat down right next to me. Her dress choice couldn't have differed more from mine. While I wore blue and white, she came in a black top with a smiling skull face. Her skirt was artistically torn like her fishnets. Please, tell me she's a changeling because she had a glamour that caught the eye.

Her plate was full of rice and contained more mushrooms than the entire Mario franchise. Given her usual hunger, she wouldn't take longer than two minutes to eat all of that. And yet, it never made her fat. Damn her and her fast metabolism.

"What happened to you on Friday?" Isa asked Simon.

"Got sick," he said which wasn't even wrong.

"Hope it doesn't have anything to do with our basement," she said. "It's spooked. Seen my video?"

"The one that earned you a warning because it violated our standards of evidence?" Simon asked.

"Exactly that one," she said. "I had a dream very similar to it. I dreamed of you sleepwalking next to some kind of mad botanist lab experiment."

"Dreams aren't good evidence," Simon said. "Sounds like a typical Paranormal Psychotic Encounter."

"So? If there's a name for these dreams, maybe they aren't just dreams? Maybe the Night Witch is real!"

"Night Witch?" Simon asked.

"That's how I call this robe person I saw! She defeated some kind of psychic plant monster by throwing a pipe against it!"

"D-did you dream of anything else?" I asked.

"Yep! Klaus Kringle also appeared. He wanted my soul, but a unicorn blew up the whole building and I got thrown at a bench where I woke up! It's a dream, not all has to make sense."

Phew. Isa remembered less than I thought. The supernatural was dangerous to people's minds, but it didn't erase memories. It worked more like the Council's cross-pollination strategy; correct memories got mixed up with wishful thinking and make-believe, producing too many contradictions to be reliable.

I did have a question to ask though. "Who's Klaus Kringle?" I asked. "I mean, I know Kris Kringle is Santa in some European countries but-"

Isa gave me a look. "You don't know Klaus Kringle?"

"Why should she?" Simon asked. "Klaus Kringle is a myth."

"Don't think he's a myth when everyone here knows them."

"He is. Nothing about him makes the slightest bit sense!"

"You don't make sense!"

"Sorry for being new!" I interrupted the argument.

"Fine, fine, I'll explain," Isa said. "See, he's a demon who lives in our basement and gives people Christmas presents in exchange for their souls. He makes you fall in love with your crush, ace your exams, and everything is great. At first! But then, you get sick. Or, you get depressed. Or, you're never seen again. Ever!" She took a spoonful of rice. "Ever!"

"I think we get it," Simon said.

"Ever!" she said a third time. Her monotone voice did not fit her smiling face. Nor did her open eyes staring at us like she'd never close them again. She took another spoonful of rice. Not even chewing broke that broad, slowly moving grin she wore.

"You sure you are fine?" I asked.

Isa wiped the rice rests and the creepy smile off her face in one motion. "Why should I not be fine? What were we just talking about?"

"Nothing," I muttered. We talked about nothing. I imagined things. I sometimes misread expressions.

"You aren't losing your mind," Siris said in my head. "She is."

She knows too much?

"No. Simon knows more and he's not under the Veil. Kringle can protect his anonymity by himself."

So, he's real?

"Maybe. Some supernaturals feel when they're talked about. Kringle flexed his muscles. He gave her a taste of what he could do if she won't stop nibbling on the fruit of forbidden knowledge."

At this point, I barely even cared that my soup became as cold as my appetite

I read enough Mulder-Scully arguments involving Isa to know that she'd eventually seek out information about Kringle.

I could tell her to wear a crucifix. Or an iron bracelet. Whatever worked against his category of demon.

Who was I kidding? As if we could defeat a being of his power so easily. He was most likely the real culprit, the real boss behind the Domain in the basement.

Monsters were like predators. They picked the sick and weak targets and ignored those who mounted a defense. Today, at 5 PM in the Waystone Tavern, I was gonna meet Darcy. After that, I won't be prey anymore.

[-]

When there's a meeting, even a wallflower like me cares for good fashion. So, I approached the Waystone Tavern in the most stylish robe I had. Or, at least, it was the one I wore last Halloween.

Trees merged above the rural path I walked on, providing parasols against the summer heat. Grey squirrels jumped from tree to tree, while ducks splashed in rivers, and small animals played in the understory. One could smell the forest herbs and feel the dancing fairies in the magical deciduous forest as my red cape fluttered in its wind.

The Waystone Tavern waited under an old oak tree. 4:58 PM. Two more minutes until Darcy arrived.

"I think she wants to meet you in the Otherworld," Siris said as he walked next to me.

"What makes you think so?"

"Look at that rose!"

Bushes surrounded the Tavern like fences and provided cover for a rose. It was the most beautiful flower I had ever seen. Its petals were as red as flames, its scent as sweet as honey, and its velvet-tinted thorns so soft that they didn't sting. It was the type of flower that made you fall in love at first sight. And yet a white veil of glamour disguised it from the people in the beer garden.

"C'mon, pluck off its petals!" Siris said. "All of 'em!"

I tore the petals off one after one like an infatuated teenager wondering if my crush loved me or not. When the rose had been deprived of its beauty, the petals regrew in an instant.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Siris asked. "Now, go onto that tiny hill and put the petals around you in a circle!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Ritual magic! You can't enter the Otherworld yourself. You need to please a higher entity that lets you cross the dimensions."

"Is this higher entity is trustworthy?"

"Darcy thinks so."

I gathered the petals in my hand. If I wanted to go to the Initiation, if I wanted to go to the Academy, I needed to trust her. Now was too late to turn around. If Siris knew about rose-leaf laying, my mother did, too, and it must have been a common ritual to get into the Otherworld.

I walked over to a hill near the oak trees. I kneeled and placed the petals in the hill's grass to protect them from the breeze.

Magic stirred the air once the circle had been complete. A wave of fatigue flooded me. My eyes shut close and trapped me in a meditative trance. Everything felt so warm. Not tropics-warm; warm-like-a-comfortable-bed-warm.

When I opened them, the Tavern was no more. I stood on a hill taller than before. Instead of being surrounded by petals, it was surrounded by a small thorn hedge with the greenest leaves I'd ever seen. It was small enough to jump over it without getting my cape caught.

Trees taller and crisper than any trees from the mortal world surrounded me. Everything looked surreal. I've seen hyperrealistic paintings or contrast-rich photography before but never had I seen a forest of such vivid beauty.

The trees' twigs swayed in the warm breeze. Their dark and lush leaves opened to breathe in the aromatic air and bathe in the brilliant sunlight. Puffy cotton-candy clouds formed a rich halo around the Sun that produced this warmth.

No way I was still on Earth. I think I knew where I was. I was in the Seelie Kingdom of Spring, Summer, and Life.