"Dean Marrow," Alistair said. His voice was soft, like dry leaves skittering over pavement, but it carried a weight that made the air heavy.
Marrow spun around. "Alistair! Thank the ancestors! You're here to help! It's a rebellion! A coup! They are anarchists! They refuse to take exams! They mock my suits!"
"We have received... concerning reports," Lady Elara said, sliding her sunglasses down her nose. "And by reports, I mean livestreams."
"They're liars!" Marrow sputtered. "It's a smear campaign! A deep fake!"
"I don't think so," Mrs. Finch said, tapping her tablet. "Hashtag #ByeByeDiscoDean is trending globally. There are... memes, Dean. Thousands of them. This one of you slipping on glitter set to circus music has three million views."
Use of the word "meme" by a terrifying supernatural bureaucrat was jarring, but effective.
Marrow turned pale. "It's out of context."
"It's a PR nightmare," Lady Elara corrected. "Northcrest is a prestigious institution, Dean. We rely on discretion. We rely on the illusion of control. We cannot have our administrator becoming the laughingstock of the magical community."
"You are relieved of duty," Alistair said. "Effective immediately."
The silence on the quad was deafening.
Marrow stared at them. His mouth opened and closed. "You... you can't do this."
"We just did," Mrs. Finch said. "Your severance package—which is generous, considering the damage to the upholstery in the ballroom—will be mailed to your forwarding address. Please vacate the premises within the hour."
"But the bonds!" Marrow yelled, pointing at us. "The Triad! They are dangerous! I am the only one who can control them! If you fire me, they'll tear this school apart! They're unstable!"
Lady Elara looked at us. She looked at Rhett, who was protectively standing in front of me. At Kai, who was subtly growing daisies over a patch of mud. At Ivy, who was making a confetti angel on the lawn.
"They seem quite... festive," she observed.
"We're just students, ma'am," Arthur said, stepping forward. He held up his clipboard. "We just want to study. And file our forms. And not be eaten by a void monster."
Mrs. Finch nodded approvingly at the clipboard. "A young man who appreciates documentation. Refreshing."
"Fine," Marrow spat. The fight touched his eyes, then died. He looked around the Quad. At the students he had terrorized. At the faculty who had feared him. At the Board who had discarded him.
He was a Null. He was emptiness. And now, he had nothing to fill it with.
"You'll regret this," he hissed. He straightened his glittery tie with trembling hands. "You'll all regret this. Chaos is messy. Chaos is dangerous."
He turned and marched toward his car. One of the Enforcers—Krell—was waiting by the door.
Krell looked at Marrow. Then he looked at Stone, who gave him a little nod.
Krell opened the door. "Watch your head, sir."
It was a small courtesy. A final indignity.
Marrow got in. The engine started.
And as the black sedan drove away, taking the darkness with it, a sound rose from the campus.
It wasn't a cheer at first. It was an exhale. A collective release of breath from two thousand lungs.
Then, the cheer started.
It shook the leaves off the trees. It rattled the windows. Caps were thrown into the air. Someone set off fireworks (green and gold, naturally).
"He's gone," I whispered, leaning against Rhett. "He's actually gone."
