Princess of Hell

Professor Moira's office door stood slightly ajar, warm light spilling into the corridor. I knocked twice and heard her voice call for us to enter.

"Miss Nightstar, Miss Nova, Miss Lilitu," Moira said, looking up from a stack of papers scattered across her mahogany desk. Her red eyes assessed us with sharp interest. "This is unexpected. Please, sit."

We arranged ourselves in the three chairs facing her desk. Aria fidgeted with the hem of her skirt while Isabella maintained perfect posture. I cleared my throat.

"Professor, we've discovered something concerning about one of our classmates that we felt you should know about."

Moira set down her quill and leaned back. "I'm listening."

"It involves Nyx Shadowveil," I began, then launched into our account of following her to the Squalor District, the exchange with the mysterious voice, and the materials from Pestilentia.

Moira's expression grew increasingly serious as I spoke. When I finished, she steepled her fingers and studied us for several moments.

"And what exactly are you three planning to do with this information?"

Aria perked up, clearly having expected this question. "We want to search her dormitory. Tonight, during dinner when she's in the library."

"The logical next step," I added, supporting Aria's proposal. "If she's conducting forbidden research, there might be evidence in her room."

Moira's gaze shifted between us. "And what role do you expect me to play in this endeavour?"

I exchanged glances with my friends before answering honestly. "We wanted to inform you so that if we get caught, we won't face expulsion or serious punishment."

A short laugh escaped Moira's lips. "Refreshingly direct. Though I should point out that without concrete proof, I can't escalate this matter based on speculation alone." She gestured to the Academy crest on her wall. "If I bring unfounded accusations to Headmistress Valencia and they prove baseless, my reputation suffers considerably."

"We understand," Isabella said smoothly. "We're not asking you to act prematurely."

Moira drummed her fingers on the desk, her expression thoughtful. After a long moment, she nodded. "Very well. I'll provide limited assistance. I can ensure that Miss Shadowveil and her dormmates are occupied elsewhere during your search."

Aria's eyes lit up with excitement.

"However," Moira continued, raising a finger, "you'll have exactly one hour. After that, whatever consequences arise are entirely your responsibility. And you'd better find something substantial—without proof, there's no reason to present any of this to the Headmistress."

"Understood," I replied.

"Good. I'll arrange for all four occupants of their dormitory to be called away for individual academic consultations beginning at eight this evening. That gives you from eight to nine." She picked up her quill again. "Now, unless there's anything else?"

We stood and filed toward the door. Just as we reached it, Moira's voice stopped us.

"Miss Nightstar? A word."

Aria and Isabella stepped into the corridor while I turned back.

"Be careful," Moira said quietly. "Components from Pestilentia aren't acquired for academic curiosity. Whatever Miss Shadowveil is involved in, it's serious enough that someone is willing to risk significant exposure to obtain them."

I nodded. "We will be."

"See that you are."

I re-joined my friends in the corridor, and we walked in silence until we reached the main staircase.

"Well, that went better than expected," Aria said, her voice bright with relief. "I was terrified she'd either escalate immediately or forbid us from investigating entirely."

I shrugged. "It's not like her reputation would be on the line if we get caught. She's just providing a convenient distraction."

"That," Isabella said thoughtfully, "or knowing your heritage made her decision easier. People tend to be more accommodating when they understand the potential political ramifications of refusing a request."

The truth of that observation settled over us as we descended the stairs. In a few hours, we'd finally get answers about what Nyx was hiding. The anticipation was almost overwhelming—along with the nagging worry about what those answers might reveal.

"Two hours," Aria said, checking the ornate clock mounted on the wall. "Plenty of time to prepare."

"And to consider what we might find," I added, though part of me wondered if we were prepared for whatever secrets Nyx's room might contain.

* * *

Isabella positioned herself at the corridor's bend, offering a clear view of approaching footsteps while remaining concealed. Aria and I stood before the heavy oak door marked with brass numbers identifying Nyx's dormitory.

"Does anyone remember the unlocking spell?" I whispered, examining the iron lock mechanism.

Aria crouched beside the keyhole, producing two thin metal tools from somewhere within her uniform. "I've got a better idea."

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I watched her insert the picks with practiced precision, applying gentle pressure while manipulating the internal mechanisms. "Where did you learn that?"

"I was a thief before becoming a succubus, remember?" Aria's tongue poked out slightly as she concentrated. The lock clicked softly. "Old habits prove useful."

We slipped inside, closing the door behind us with barely a whisper. The room mirrored ours in layout but accommodated four occupants instead of two. Four beds lined the walls, each with personal belongings arranged neatly beneath. The space felt cramped despite maintaining cleanliness.

A massive figure sat on a thin mattress spread across the floor near the far wall. The half-troll slave looked up as we entered, his enormous frame making the room seem even smaller. Dark hair covered powerful shoulders, and his brown eyes tracked our movement without alarm. He simply watched, accepting our presence with the passive recognition of hierarchy that defined his existence.

Multiple bruises mottled his exposed skin, and thin scratches from fingernails created patterns across his arms and chest. Unlike Bellas, who shared our comfortable quarters and received gentle treatment, this slave bore evidence of rougher handling.

I gestured toward him while focusing magical energy. The sleep spell Professor Morrigan had taught us, flowed smoothly through my internal pathways. His eyelids grew heavy, and within moments he slumped against the wall in peaceful slumber.

"He shouldn't remember us being here," I told Aria.

We began our search systematically. I took the left side while Aria examined the right. Nyx's belongings occupied the bed closest to the window—stacks of academic texts, writing materials, and the ever-present collection of different eyeglasses frames she favoured.

The desk drawer yielded nothing unusual. Academic notes, assignment drafts, and lecture transcriptions filled most of the space. I moved to her trunk at the bed's foot while Aria investigated the wardrobe.

"Nothing here but clothing and more books," Aria reported, rifling through folded garments.

I lifted Nyx's mattress, finding only dust and a few coins that had slipped between the frame slats. The academic materials seemed entirely ordinary—until I discovered a leather-bound journal tucked beneath a stack of magical theory texts.

"Aria, look at this."

She joined me as I opened the journal to pages covered with Nyx's precise handwriting. Detailed diagrams filled the margins alongside magical formulas and experimental notes. The early entries focused on petrification enchantments, specifically the spell components required for temporary immobilization.

My breath caught as I recognized the dagger design sketched across one page—identical to the weapon that had struck Valentina.

"She was researching the same enchantment," Aria breathed, leaning over my shoulder to read.

The journal entries progressed chronologically, showing Nyx's initial enthusiasm for the academic challenge. Her notes detailed the theoretical framework behind temporary petrification, exploring methods to enhance duration and effectiveness.

But as the pages continued, her tone shifted. Uncertainty crept into her observations. Questions appeared in the margins—Why permanent effects? What's the intended target? One entry caught my attention:

I suspect I've become involved in something beyond academic research. The components requested aren't for theoretical study. Someone intends actual application, but I can't determine their purpose. My position offers no room for refusal.

The final entries revealed growing anxiety. Nyx had clearly realized the true nature of her research but felt trapped by circumstances we couldn't yet understand.

"She knows she's in trouble," I said, flipping through the remaining pages. "But something's preventing her from stopping."

Aria pointed to a notation near the journal's end. "Look at this—she mentions hiding materials 'where curious eyes won't find them.' The components aren't here."

I scanned the cryptic reference. Nyx had been clever enough to conceal the actual dangerous materials elsewhere, keeping only research notes in her personal space.

A soft knock echoed from the corridor—Isabella's warning signal.

"Five minutes," came her whispered voice through the door.

I quickly photographed several journal pages with the smartphone I got from earth before returning everything to its original position. Aria smoothed the bedding while I ensured no trace of our presence remained visible.

The sleeping half-troll hadn't stirred. His breathing remained deep and regular, and he'd likely wake naturally in another hour with no memory of visitors.

"We need to go," Aria said, checking the lock mechanism one final time.

I took a last look around the room, memorizing details we might need later. The journal had provided crucial confirmation—Nyx was definitely involved in the attacks on Valentina and potentially Isabella. But her reluctant participation suggested coercion rather than willing conspiracy.

Someone was manipulating her, using leverage we hadn't yet identified. And whatever hold they maintained over her was strong enough to force compliance despite her obvious misgivings.

We slipped out as quietly as we'd entered, leaving no evidence of our intrusion behind.

We moved swiftly down the corridor, putting distance between ourselves and Nyx's room. The adrenaline of our covert search gradually faded as we walked, replaced by satisfaction at discovering crucial evidence.

Then realization struck me like a physical blow.

"The lock," I whispered, stopping abruptly. "We didn't secure it."

Aria's eyes widened. "Shit. Should we go back?"

Before I could respond, familiar voices echoed from the direction we'd come. We pressed against the wall, listening as Nyx's distinctive tone carried through the corridor.

"I still don't understand why Professor Moira thinks we need additional tutoring sessions," Nyx was saying. "My grades haven't declined."

"Maybe she noticed how distracted you've been recently," replied another voice I recognized as belonging to one of Nyx's study partners.

"I've maintained my academic standing despite…" Nyx's words cut off sharply, the silence heavy with unspoken implications.

My breath caught. Despite what? The coercion we'd discovered evidence of in her journal?

"That's exactly what we were saying," the friend continued. "You've been distracted. It's obvious to anyone paying attention."

A pause, then Nyx's confused voice: "I thought I locked this door."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Discovery would complicate everything.

"See? Distracted," came the friend's amused response. "You probably forgot in your rush to meet that mysterious appointment."

Nyx sighed audibly. "You're right. I can't keep my thoughts organized lately."

We waited until their voices faded into the room before moving again. Relief flooded through me as we made our way back toward our dormitory. Our intrusion had gone undetected, attributed to Nyx's own absent-mindedness rather than external interference.

"That was too close," Aria muttered as we reached our corridor.

"But we have what we need," Isabella said. "The journal confirms our suspicions about her involvement."

Inside our room, we found Bellas organizing our evening meal. Isabella declined to join us, citing reports she needed to complete for her mother.

"We should brief Professor Moira tomorrow about what we discovered," I said as Isabella prepared to leave. "Even if she decides against further Academy involvement, we'll know we followed proper protocol."

"Agreed," Isabella replied. "Worst case, we continue investigating independently with her blessing rather than her active participation."

After Isabella departed for her own quarters, Aria and I settled into our familiar evening routine. The day's discoveries weighed on my mind, but exhaustion was beginning to override analytical thinking.

"Tomorrow we'll have answers," Aria said, pulling her nightgown over her head.

I nodded, hoping our evidence would provide Moira with enough justification to take action—whatever form that might require.