The Dark Lady's Guide to Villainy [Book 1 Complete] [Dark Lord, School, Romance]

Mo's friends' magical signatures still crackled in the air from defending her as she followed right behind Malvolia. The fact that they'd all moved to protect her without hesitation should have been comforting. Instead, it reminded her that she could probably start designing a trading card game with all the enemies she seemed to be collecting these days.

As Mo rushed alongside her teacher down the familiar corridor, portraits of former Academy legends watched their passage with painted eyes that tracked too realistically for comfort. She'd been here before—dragged to this very office after the Witching Hour incident. Back then, the journey had felt like walking to her execution. Now? After parliamentary happenings, cosmic System integration, and dragonic letters? It was just another Tuesday.

They stopped at Malvolia's office, that impossible space that, like many others in Umbra, existed in its own pocket dimension—larger inside than outside, with walls lined with specimens that shifted when observed directly. The preserved creatures and their parts in jars had terrified Mo during her first visit, their eyes seeming to follow her every movement. By now she was absolutely sure they were actually tracking her, some even pressed against their glass prisons to get a better look.

Great. Even the dead things want to know why I'm trending.

"Sit," Malvolia commanded, taking her place behind a desk carved from what looked like obsidian that screamed while it was formed into a piece of furniture.

Mo sat, maintaining eye contact. She'd learned that showing weakness to Academy faculty was like bleeding in shark-infested waters, though honestly, sharks were probably less politically motivated. Even with people who seemed to care.

"I assume you've prepared your report on the consequences of the ritual and the Earth events?" Malvolia asked, pulling out a file that definitely had some glamor or masking spell cast on it. Whatever Mo did to shift her position and figure out the title, the letters weren't in a hurry to organize themselves into words and pass the meaning to Mo.

She kept her expression neutral. The time for explaining herself had passed. For some reason, Mo didn't fear neither the academic repercussions, not the ire of the High Council anymore. "We've been slightly occupied with gathering the data on this multidimensional collapse. And the last two days we had to spend negotiating the bureaucratic madness that is a direct consequence of Julian's ritual. Your assistant's ritual. The report is... in progress."

"In progress." Malvolia said, not showing that Mo's barb got to her. "Tardiness isn't beneficial to you. You should understand that." She tapped the overflowing file. "Do you know what this is?" The file suddenly split into three stacks, then those split again, papers multiplying like bureaucratic cancer across her desk.

"Bad news wearing bureaucracy's favorite outfit?"

"Close. These are complaints, inquiries, and demands for investigation from no less than one hundred ninety-seven different Council members, four Academy department heads, scores of students, and..." she paused for effect, "Out of these one hundred ninety-seven councillors three represent the top Great Houses."

Mo felt her stomach drop. "Three? Is the Abyssal Depth Covenant among them?"

"Surprisingly, it isn't," Malvolia said. "Why did you single them out? Do you know something?"

Mo hesitated. Now, the letter from the Covenant seemed even more ominous, and Mo started silently berating herself for not opening it earlier. She looked at Professor Malvolia, then at her bag. Her teacher was waiting patiently not even saying another word.

"This was delivered to me just before I stepped through the portal earlier today," Mo said, showing Malvolia the envelope. She moved her hand to remove the seal only to be interrupted by the professor.

"What I you doing, child?"

"I'm not a child!" Still, Mo snatched back her palm. "I'm a Dark Lady. And I wanted to open it to find out what they want of me."

"I appreciate the trust," Malvolia said. "But you seem not to appreciate the situation you are in right now. It is not safe for you to share your secrets with the first teacher you saw on Tuesday. Do it in private. I would even recommend not involving your gang in that, but I know you wouldn't listen to me, anyway."

Slowly, Mo returned the letter to her tote bag. Its weight only seemed to grow, and the sensation of being watched increased a notch.

"I can tell by the seal that they treat you like a serious partner," Malvolia said. "Don't squander this opportunity. One out of four may be enough for you to be the difference between life and death. It's not just about keeping your title anymore. It's about your empire and all souls belonging to it being processed into something different without any consideration of your wishes. They have the power. Dragons from The Eternal Flame Concordat are rumored to have consumed a star last month. Just for an experimental ritual, mind you, not for something practical."

"Alright, but why would you even care?"

"I have my… reasons. For now, let's say that Julian has connected us much stronger than I would care to enjoy. I can just sacrifice you and your friends. And maybe that act will even let me survive. But there is something in you… And next year, my daughter is coming to study here."

A ward flickered into existence around Malvolia's desk—not the usual academic magic, but something raw and maternal, all teeth and claws made of pure magical intent. The professor's hands, usually steady as surgical instruments, trembled slightly as she reorganized papers that didn't need reorganizing.

"She is… special." The ward pulsed, growing denser. "I saw what you did for Milo. Even if he didn't survive in the end. I hope to… I have to find allies to make my daughter's time here better."

Mo watched the professor struggle with vulnerability like it was a foreign language. The ward around the desk was now visible enough that the preserved specimens on the shelves seemed to lean away from it, recognizing a more dangerous predator.

Malvolia stood up suddenly and turned away, the protective magic dissipating as she forced control back over herself.

"I already said too much. You are smart. You'll figure it out. And I'll help you when I can."

"Alright… I'm forging all sorts of strange alliances these days. Why not that as well? So what about the complaints?"

Malvolia turned back, her stance showing that talking about bureaucratic stuff was a more solid ground for her. "Many are quite vocal about your involvement in what they're calling the 'Fennar catastrophe,' the 'human magification,' or even the 'end of all normalcy'."

"Catastrophe seems harsh. I'd call it more of an incident. Maybe a situation. But I like the other ones."

"You would." The professor pulled out a document covered in official seals. "Unfortunately, your semantic preferences don't alter the political reality. You're on academic probation pending your full report on the Earth events."

Mo blinked. "Academic probation? But I followed protocol…"

"You followed protocol for a standard academic field trip. What happened on Earth transcended every category we have for magical disasters. I can't even comprehend how a mere academic assistant was able to wield that kind of power. The High Council demands answers. Detailed answers. With evidence, theoretical framework, and practical implications for magical society."

She pushed the sealed document across the desk. "Furthermore, certain Council members believe you were more than a bystander. Some even suggest you were Julian's collaborator from the beginning."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Malvolia leaned forward, her eyes glinting. "A first-year student who fraternizes with a faculty member at the most opportune moment, survives an apocalyptic ritual's epicenter while some of the professors with hundreds of years of magical experience irrevocably lose their body parts…!"

Malvolia stepped back to her chair and sat with a tired-to-death sigh. She looked at Mo for a few seconds as if assessing how much information she could trust her with. Witching to whisper, she continued: "Even the Headmaster is rumored to lose some of his body mass. If we can even call that a 'mass'…"

"It's not like I was to blame for that!

"Who knows? The High Council definitely doesn't know. And that's not even the end of things, all of which lead back to you! Your D.E.V.I.O.U.S. framework seems to be quite handy these days, doesn't it? A lot of unexpected profits?"

"How do you even know about that?"

"Everybody knows! The High Council isn't there only to scare young women and find technicalities to take away their legacy. It's a large gossip mill. Every single demonic House knows. The news had even spread to the fey worlds by now. Not surprisingly, of course. But I really hope we had tighter security. They would definitely use it to their advantage. And we don't even know if they are influenced by this magical plague."

"Wait, how is it you don't know when Grimz have reported…" Mo stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing it may not be for her benefit to spill all the beans right away.

"Grimz what?"

"Nothing professor. It's just my advisor who gave me the letter from the dragons."

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Ah, I see. Getting smarter. Don't share everything. Keep things to yourself. Grimz… Everyone knows who Grimz is by now. Some even say he's the mastermind behind all of this. A goblin! Ha!"

"He's a capable person," Mo said with a smile.

"You should check his background. Do you know that no one has any account for at least five years of his life?"

This time Mo kept silent, only looked at Malvolia intently.

"Ah… not confirming anything. Good for you."

Mo was getting better at understanding the game now. Malvolia wasn't her enemy. At least not a direct enemy. At least not during this round of the confrontation. But the professor had to play politics too, had to satisfy the bureaucratic bloodhounds sniffing around Mo's trail.

"What do you need from me?" Mo asked directly.

"The full report." Malvolia pulled out another document. "Starting with the ritual. We have your testimony, but it would be better if you incorporated it into the complete report you are to provide as soon as possible. Every observation about the System. Every theory about how it's spreading. And most importantly..." she paused, "documentation of safeguards to keep it contained as much as possible. We can endanger the entire cosmic order."

"Would that be so bad?"

"From my perspective? Perhaps not. I've always found the current order tediously predictable." Malvolia's expression shifted. "But from the High Council's perspective? You're either a threat to existence itself or a tool to be controlled. Academic probation keeps you in the second category. For now."

"Well… about containing it…"

"What?"

"I don't think it's possible. The System seems only to feed on magic. Even on the tiniest manifestations. It takes it, passes through whatever intelligence it has, and throws back at people who didn't have any magic before."

"That's what I was afraid of," Malvolia said. "So, that's the reason it's infecting the demonic domains?"

"I wouldn't use the word 'infecting'," Mo stopped abruptly under Malvolia's sharp look. "Alright, it definitely spreads like a virus. But we just have to adapt to this new reality. It will change our worlds, but there are ways to survive it with fewer losses!"

"Let me guess, and for that the interested parties just need to agree to your D.E.V.I.O.U.S. fees, right?"

"Well, it's definitely one of the solutions. It's a lucky coincidence that the idea I had weeks before I even began explaining the fantasy ideas from Earth to Julian, got so useful in the current circumstances."

"I hope you see why some people find all of that very suspicious," said Malvolia with finality.

"Anyway," she pushed another paper forward, "you might benefit from finding more influential patrons. The Obscuris, Frostbrook, and Crowe families are... charming, but hardly powerful enough to shield you from what's coming." Professor looked pointedly at Mo's bag.

"Those are not my patrons," Mo said firmly. "They're my friends and business partners."

Malvolia's laugh was like glass breaking in a very expensive way. "Friends? In villain society? How beautiful and naïve!" But there was something else in her tone—not mockery, but maybe... wistfulness? "Your empire might be larger than their holdings now, but size means nothing without proper backing when you have to deal with dragons and such. The High Council is bound to count your voice. But it's only one voice against many. And not all of them are equal."

"Then the High Council needs to update its priorities."

"Careful, Lady Nightshade. That sounds dangerously close to what your enemies are accusing you of." However, Malvolia's lips twitched in what almost looked like a shade of approval. "Though between us, their priorities could use some... restructuring."

Professor Malvolia stood up and walked around the table to approach Mo.

"As before, you'll have to catch up with your classes. And write this damned report. Your previous work was quite good. Keep up and maybe you'll bring some changes to…" Malvolia made an ambiguous gesture. "…all this."

Mo stood, knowing when she was being dismissed. "Understood, Professor."

"Oh, and Lady Nightshade?" Malvolia called as Mo reached the door. "You might want to read that letter sooner rather than later. The Abyssal Depth Covenant isn't known for patience."

***

Mo found her friends waiting in her dorm suite—technically just hers and Nyx's, but at this point they should probably petition Lady Thornheart for a zoning leniency given how often Lucian and Julian bunked in the central area. Valerius replacing Julian didn't shift the gender balance in a way favorable in the eyes of the spectral guardian of the dorm. Even if the Academy's strict gender segregation rules had become somewhat meaningless when your roommates could shift between all kinds of forms at will.

The common space had evolved since the beginning of term: Nyx's influence spread across one wall in shifting colors and textures that changed with their mood, while Mo's corner had accumulated an odd mixture of Earth band posters, excerpts from demonic political and economical treaties, and a coffee maker she'd smuggled through the portal despite the embargo.

Lucian had claimed the window seat, frost patterns spreading across the glass in delicate patterns that looked suspiciously like poetry. Every few moments, his gaze would drift from the ice crystals to Valerius, a mixture of longing and uncertainty flickering across his usually calm features before he would catch himself and return to his frozen words. Valerius had commandeered Mo's desk chair, somehow making the simple wooden seat look like a throne through sheer aristocratic presence—though Mo noticed he'd positioned it to give him a clear view of the window. Nyx sprawled across the couch in a vaguely humanoid form, currently presenting as something with a random mix of masculine and feminine features, their skin shifting through iridescent patterns of concern.

"Academic probation," Mo announced, dropping onto the couch. The piece of furniture creaked in protest—even if it was demonic, it didn't seem to be designed for the weight of cosmic responsibility. "Apparently, surviving a reality-changing ritual makes a person suspicious unless they're tenured faculty."

"Everything makes you suspicious," Valerius pointed out. "You're a Nightshade who seems to be fine with goblins stepping on the highest ladders of the society. That's like a dragon suddenly becoming vegan."

He shuddered.

"You know, my personal indoctrination makes mem shudder at both of these concepts."

Nyx sat up, their form solidifying into sharper focus. "What did Malvolia really want? That woman doesn't waste time on simple disciplinary actions."

"Talking of dragons, she thinks I need more powerful patrons. Suggested our alliance isn't enough to protect me from the High Council."

"Alliance?" Valerius raised an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling this now? However, it seems to be exactly what my father wants it to be. While you were there, I received another message from him with a note signed in Cassia's hand. It's sealed and addressed to you."

"Arghhh… How many sealed letters do I have to deal with today?"

"Well, darling," Nyx said not changing their relaxed position even a slightest bit, "at least now you have options! Would you prefer abyssal doom, matrimonial doom, or perhaps a nice mixed platter of existential crisis? I hear they're serving all three at the Tournament this year."

Mo pulled out the Covenant letter, turning it over in her hands. "Malvolia got very excited when she saw it. Told me to read it sooner rather than later…"

"Then read it," Lucian suggested, his frost forming curious patterns. "The unknown freezes worse than winter's truth."

"…and not to share anything of its contents with you," Mo finished, breaking the seal. Immediately, the surrounding air changed. The letter didn't simply unfold—it bloomed like a living thing, parchment rippling with patterns that reminded of ocean depths and crushing pressure.

To the Dark Lady Morgana Nightshade, current occupant of Blackthorn Keep and designer of what some call a devious framework,

The Abyssal Depth Covenant is mildly intrigued by your recent... activities. We use the term 'activities' generously, as 'reform' implies a level of intentionality we're not certain you possess, given your background in beverage service.

Mo's eye twitched. Even ancient dragons knew about her barista past.

Your transformation of servant species into participants—we hesitate to say 'equals' as that would be presumptuous—has created ripples in the dimensional currents we monitor. These disruptions have awakened certain interests within our domain that have slumbered since the last true revolution, which, for your reference, occurred before your bloodline learned to walk upright.

Just as Mo finished reading the insulting line, a knock came at the door—not the timid tap of a first-year or the authoritative pound of faculty, but somehow... possessive? Three quick raps that sounded like a demand from a person who had never learned to wait even a second.

"Oh, excellent timing," Nyx said, moving to answer it. "Nothing says 'perfect moment' like interrupting existential threats with existentially threatening knocking on the door."

In the corridor, a young woman was waiting, already showing slight signs of impatience, even while Nyx jumped up from his seat as soon as the friends heard knocking. The newcomer wore clothes that seemed to shift between states—scales that might have been sequins or might have been part of her skin, sleeves that moved like water but held their shape. Her hair flowed between deep ocean blue and molten gold, arranged in an elaborate style that defied what humans on Earth got used to knowing as physics. But even if there were any doubts, the vertical pupils of her eyes revealed the woman's true nature: ancient and assessing despite her otherwise uncharacteristically youthful for the Academy features.

She stood in the doorway only for a brief moment, taking in the room with the patience of something that had all the time in the world but didn't want to wait a second. Then she smiled—a precise expression that revealed teeth designed for crushing things that lived under impossible pressure.

"Oh brilliant, full quorum achieved! One succubus, properly aged. One shapeshifter, interestingly fluid. One ice demon, nicely chilled. One shadow aristocrat, pre-marinated in privilege." The cheerful tone contrasted sharply with the predatory entrance and the words. "I was calculating a 73% probability of scattered distribution across campus, but you've all gathered here in a deliciously perfect way…"

After these words, the woman licked her lips so fast that Mo wasn't sure it even happened. Then she paused, rolled her eyes in enjoyment, visibly savoring the words as if she was tasting them. Her nostrils flared slightly, and her pupils dilated.

Mo shuddered, momentarily reminded of the way Nyx used the same word 'delicious.' For them, it was theatrical, camp. It was an aesthetic choice. When this woman said it, Mo's survival instincts screamed that she meant it literally—that she was cataloging their flavor profiles for future reference.

"Yes, just perfect," the woman continued, as if she hadn't just made everyone consider their position on the food chain. "The Academy's corridors are experiencing severe fluctuations today—took me three tries to come here from the west tower."

Everyone stared.

The young woman stepped into the room without invitation, moving like water flowing uphill—wrong but impossible to take eyes off of the spectacle. As she passed Valerius, she inhaled deeply. "Morgana Nightshade, finally. I've been following your adventures since the Ball. That suit as a bloody canvas performance? Delicious!" Her pupils expanded again at the memory. "Second place! Congrats! But of course you never stood a chance of beating me. You broke so many rules! Mother would have eaten you on principle…" she unconsciously licked her lips again, "…but I found it... instructive."

"I... what?" Mo said, still gripping the damned letter. Her confusion spiked, and Cordelia's nostrils twitched in response.

"Cordelia Emberclaw, Third Year." The dragoness, because that's who she was, plopped onto the sofa next to Mo. As Mo's heart rate increased from the proximity, Cordelia's eyes briefly unfocused, as if tasting the air. "Aunt Aureth sends her regards. And her regards… Oh… That's worth something, you know. Though in our family that usually means 'I acknowledge you exist and I haven't drowned you yet.' She's the Second Speaker, you know, which means she's old enough to remember when your continent or wherever your throne sits was underwater."

"Nice… Nice to meet you," said Mo, extending her hand. Cordelia's grip was strong, but pleasantly warm.

"So, you've opened the letter. That's good. What are your thoughts?" Cordelia smiled wider, showing far too many sharp teeth. Somehow, even more than Nyx was able to manifest on their best days. "And please be honest. The taste of lies gives me indigestion, and I skipped lunch because I had to research something in the library."