The summons came folded in violet paper, slipped into Ivy's desk during first period. No one saw it arrive. It didn't have her name—only a glyph, drawn in silver ink, faintly glowing with heat.
Not a ripple-glyph. A Council mark.
She didn't need to open it to know what it meant.
By second period, the walls of the school were already off-center. Tiles along the hallway rippled slightly underfoot, as if she were walking on shallow water. Reflections lingered half a second too long in classroom windows. A boy she didn't recognize called her "Mirelen" under his breath before disappearing into the crowd.
She didn't go to class.
She went to the office.
"Don't go alone," Arlo had told her earlier, standing outside the greenhouse in the gray morning light. "If they've sent envoys, they're not just asking questions. They're positioning you."
"I can handle it," she'd said.
Now, standing outside the headmistress's office, she wasn't so sure.
The door opened before she knocked.
Headmistress Vell didn't smile. Her posture was rigid, as though she too were following a script she didn't write.
"Miss Calen," she said tightly. "Come in."
Ivy stepped inside.
Two strangers sat in the chairs usually reserved for misbehaving students.
They wore long formal robes—layered with cloth the color of deep bark and indigo shadow. Their collars were embroidered with glyphs that shimmered and changed every few seconds, never repeating. Their faces were half-covered by translucent masks, glass-thin and rune-etched. One was taller, with a faint aura of heat rising from his gloves. The other wore no gloves at all—his fingers were marked with binding rings carved into the skin.
The air felt wrong.
The taller envoy rose first.
"Ivy Calen," he said. "We come from the Central Council. You are not under investigation. You are not on trial. We are simply here… to assess."
Headmistress Vell's hands were folded too tightly on her desk. "They've assured me this is just routine," she said. "To ease concerns raised by recent magical fluctuations."
Fluctuations.
A girl disappeared. A boy appeared. Doors looped. The ripple trembled.
Fluctuation was a soft word for a deep crack in the skin of the world.
Ivy didn't sit.
The shorter envoy spoke next. "We've brought a glyph attunement scanner. It will read active marks—nothing invasive. The Council only wishes to monitor signs of premature glyph-bonding."
"You mean the fourth mark," Ivy said flatly.
Neither of them confirmed it. Which was answer enough.
Headmistress Vell finally stood. "Ivy, I think it's best to cooperate. The sooner this is done, the sooner we can all move forward."
Ivy glanced at the scanner—crystal and copper, shaped like a three-pronged claw. It vibrated faintly. She didn't like the way it looked at her, even without eyes.
"No," she said.
The room fell silent.
The taller envoy raised a hand. "Miss Calen, refusal to comply may result in forced assessment, which—"
The door burst open.
Arlo strode in like the storm had arrived with him. His Council mark burned on his collar—gold and violet. Real.
"She is under Watcher protection," he said coldly.
The taller envoy blinked. "She hasn't been declared Class-A unstable."
"She's a ripple-bearer with three active marks and no bond anchor. She's Class-A by default."
"You don't have clearance—"
"I do now."
He pulled a slip of parchment from his coat, sealed in red wax with the sigil of a northern Watcher sect.
"Any unauthorized scan on an unanchored glyph-bearer can result in mark destabilization," he said, reciting from protocol. "Which would be a breach of containment law 17-B."
Headmistress Vell looked like she was caught between worlds.
"She's telling the truth," Ivy said softly.
Every word in the room slowed. Not because of magic. Because of what everyone knew was about to happen.
Ivy's body trembled slightly.
The glyph on her side burned—not with heat, but with intent. With recognition.
She didn't need to speak the fourth ripple-word.
It was already finishing itself.
A soft glow bloomed through her sweater. The fourth mark ignited—sigils curling into place like the tail end of a signature written in flame. Everyone in the room felt it.
The scanner whined.
The shorter envoy backed away.
The taller one tried to speak—but couldn't. The ripple around Ivy pulsed once, like a heartbeat out of sync with time. For one second—just one—the entire room flickered out of step with the world.
And the taller envoy?
He stared at Ivy like he'd just seen something impossible.
Something ancient.
Something that remembered him.
His voice shook.
"You're not supposed to exist."
Ivy blinked once.
Smiled faintly.
And said, "I know."
---
End of Chapter 22