“I’ve been told by more than one fuming parent that there’s no such thing as a bad student. But even the Dark Summoner was a student once, and I just can’t find it within myself to believe his teacher was that horrible.”

- Master Tast

Percy’s eyes burst open, his bed shaking as a loud explosion filled the air. It wasn’t a flare or firework. This was a deep boom like when a tree is cut down, only much louder. And it wasn’t the only one. Seconds later, another booming burst sounded out.

Percy had passed out the moment his head had hit the pillow. He’d thought it would’ve been hard to sleep, considering that he didn’t feel tired at all, but Mrs. Balligan was right. His body had been exhausted and he hadn’t even noticed. But then this sound had woken him right back up.

Another explosion, this one much closer, and Percy was out of bed. In the hallway, he could see all the other students had woken up, too. Except Kollum. His door was notably shut. And he was nowhere to be seen in the hallway.

“Percy!” Mako called, pushing his way through groups of students. “What’s going on?”

“I have no idea,” he responded, yelling over the increasing volume of kids in the hallway.

There was another explosion, students jumping and yelling in surprise, and Mrs. Balligan came rushing up the stairs, eyes wide and hair splayed. She was dressed in a dark purple nightgown with a black trim. A sash was wrapped hastily around her hips, an onyx deck box to match her eyes hanging precariously from it.

“Get back in your rooms!” she shouted from the stairs. But the mob didn’t listen. Percy found himself swept away by the current of students shoving their way toward the stairs. Mrs. Balligan vanished in the crowd and Mako was pulled away.

The river of kids shot down the stairs and out the door, flowing out into the field outside the building, where many gasped for the precious air they’d been denied in the densely packed group. It was still day outside, as the magic ensured, and no matter where he looked, all Percy could see in anyone’s eyes was excitement. Students chattered eagerly amongst themselves as they looked up toward the normally clear blue sky. A dense cyclone of black clouds swirled overhead, casting shadows over the scene. A voice roared from somewhere in the woods nearby, calling out and silencing the students. Percy’s eyes went wide when he realized what it was saying.

“Allblythe!”

That voice… Silvaroth murmured.

“It just said my name,” Percy finished, his heart beating ten times a second. “Well, my new name. Yeah.”

No… Silvaroth replied. I recognize it, somehow…

“ALLBLYTHE!” the voice roared again. The sound rippled across the crowd like a shockwave, and the students’ eyes went wide. All eyes immediately began to survey the area, searching for Percy. He felt the gazes turn to him, and chills ran down his spine.

Trees fell as the source of the voice approached. Loud crashes smashing into other trees or the ground as whatever was coming knocked them over.

“What are you all doing?!” Mrs. Balligan’s voice came from the porch. She was standing on the railing and calling out over the crowd. “Get! Back! Inside!”

That reinforced demand was all it took for the horde of students to realize that their teacher was right. Whatever was coming could knock over massive oak trees with ease. It did not need to encounter a bunch of squishy human children.

All of a sudden, Percy found himself being spun around in circles as the flow of students shoved past him, rushing toward the porch and fighting to get back into the door. Fists flew as Ethan and his gang fought their way into the building, more fights breaking out as other students witnessed their success.

Mrs. Balligan struggled in vain to break up the fights, trying her best to be heard above the chaos as she demanded that everyone proceed swiftly but calmly.

“Allblythe!” the voice called once again. “Where are you, Allblythe?!”

Percy turned back to the destroyed forest just in time to see a disfigured head the size of a car emerge from the woods. Its skin was black and cracked, and it had horns protruding from every angle of its body. Six legs followed, massive pillars of scaly muscle each topped by three wickedly sharp scything talons. Crooked teeth sprouted from the mouth, running down the bottom jaw like shards of ice.

At first, Percy thought this monster was the one screaming his name in rage. But then he caught sight of the man standing between the spiny shoulders of the creature. Golden robes covered his body, black furs resting across his shoulders. A black leather belt around his waist held a pearl-encrusted deck box that matched his shock of white hair, and a shriveled up black skull of some bird hung from his neck. But none of it could take Percy’s gaze away from the man’s eyes. They glowed an electric blue, burning with rage.

He surveyed the scene with a sneer, his intense gaze passing over each and every student fighting to get into the building before it settled on Percy. Suddenly a grin grew across his face. Holding onto a magical purple aura that seemed to function as reins with a black gauntlet, he pointed at Percy with his free hand, a single bony finger targeting him.

“You,” he said. “You must be Allblythe.”

Percy’s knees felt like jelly. He felt like he was going to fall over when a hand landed on his shoulder, a large thumb rubbing him supportively.

“He must be, musn’t he?” came the voice of the headmaster, Faderius Blask. “But the things about musts and musn’ts is that you’re never quite sure what must be a must and what musn’t be. That’s why it’s important to muster up the courage and learn the distinction. It’s a must.”

“Must you continue this… Blask?” the man asked irritably.

“Mustn’t I?” Blask asked innocently, his other hand reaching for the deckbox at his waist. Percy hadn’t seen it before. It was a plain box, a tan box the color of human skin, with no decoration. “Now, before we begin, I must ask, is there any chance I could convince you to join me for a cup of tea, Mr. Oble?”

“Even if I was open to that idea, Blask, I’m sure anything you make is quite terrible.”

“Well that’s rather rude,” Headmaster Blask replied, a hand over his heart. He patted Percy’s shoulder. “Percy here has actually had some of my tea, haven’t you Percy? And it was absolutely delicious.”

Percy hadn’t actually even taken a sip, but if his life depended on it, he could smile and nod along. Well, nod at least. Smiling wasn’t very easy in the presence of what was evidently the Dark Summoner himself.

Why the heck is he looking for me?!

Silvaroth replied, not even a hint of humor in his voice. For the same reason I had to ask you so much about your origins, Percy. You’re an Allblythe.

What is that supposed to mean?!

“Well now,” Blask continued. “If you’re going to refuse my kind offer of delicious tea, then I don’t suppose we can simply sit down and talk this over, no?”

“Give me the boy, Blask.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse.” The headmaster took a step forward, pushing Percy behind him and drawing a hand of six cards. Each new card he pulled from his box sent a shockwave through the air, ruffling the leaves on the trees. Blask’s clothes fluttered.

The Dark Summoner laughed. “You’re going to contest me? Faderius Blask, do you even understand the position you are about to put yourself in?”

The headmaster tilted his head toward the man atop the monster. “Alyster Oble, you killed Celeste Valania. Now, prepare yourself for my just and righteous wrath!”

With that, the headmaster swiped at the air with an open palm as though performing a karate strike. He grasped at an invisible energy and yanked it toward himself. Percy felt a wall of force come crashing in, and Blask drew another card from his deck box, glancing only momentarily at his hand of cards before throwing one forward towards the ground.