Can Meda and Eva meet the challenge of meeting their sister Wanda and the even greater challenge all being selected for Dean Bronwen's team in pursuit of Aislinn's cup at Aislinn's College for the Blessed?

Author's Note:

This book, in its entirety, is available on my Patreon. BCTS will get weekly postings on Wednesdays and Saturdays to complete it here. Patreon Free Members can read my new complete book by chapters, Things We Do for Love

Chapter 11: Wanda's Arrival

The crystalline corridors of Aislinn's College hummed with their usual morning energy as students hurried between classes, their voices creating a symphony of youthful excitement and magical experimentation. Meda and Eva had settled into a comfortable routine over the past week, their glamored appearances helping them blend among their peers while they secretly grappled with the overwhelming legacy of their true identities.

The Team Selection Assembly

The Great Hall of Aislinn's College buzzed with anticipation as students from every age group filled the ancient stone amphitheater. Tapestries bearing the college's crest hung from soaring arches, while floating candles cast dancing shadows across the assembled faces. At the center of the hall, three ornate chairs had been placed for the selecting deans, with President Aislinn's ethereal form presiding from an elevated platform.

Isabeta floated near the cluster of thirteen-year-old girls, her luminescent presence providing a comforting anchor in the sea of nervous energy. She leaned toward her charges with theatrical discretion.

"Now darlings," she whispered, her voice carrying just enough mischief to ease the tension, "remember—this isn't a beauty pageant or a spelling bee. Though I do hope someone asks Dean Yseult about her fascinating collection of transformation mishaps. The woman once accidentally turned herself into a teapot for three days."

Several girls giggled softly, including Meda, who felt her shoulders relax slightly. Eva squeezed her hand reassuringly.

President Aislinn's voice resonated through the hall with otherworldly authority. "Students of Aislinn's College for the Blessed, today marks the beginning of this year's competition for the coveted Aislinn's Cup. Our three distinguished deans will now select their teams of six members each."

Dean Bronwen rose first, her silver hair gleaming as she surveyed the assembly with keen eyes. Known for her expertise in Illusion and Magical Defense, she commanded respect through both her strategic mind and her ability to see potential where others might miss it.

"I seek those who understand that true strength lies not in raw power alone, but in wisdom, adaptability, and the courage to protect others," Dean Bronwen announced, her voice carrying clearly through the hall. "My team will be built on the foundation of strategic thinking and defensive excellence."

Isabeta leaned closer to her girls again. "Bronwen always picks the clever ones," she murmured conspiratorially. "She's got an eye for spotting diamonds in the rough. Last year, she chose a girl who could barely light a candle, but by the end of the competition, she was creating illusions that fooled even the graduate students."

Dean Bronwen began calling names, her selections spanning all age groups. "From our graduate program, I choose Lydia Ashworth, specialist in Ward Construction." A tall young woman with intricate braids stood gracefully. "From our seventeen-year-olds, Celeste Chen, whose defensive strategies have impressed even our most seasoned professors. From our fifteen-year-olds, Rosalind Blackwater, whose quick thinking under pressure has proven invaluable."

The selection continued methodically through the age groups. When Dean Bronwen's gaze fell upon the thirteen-year-olds, Isabeta whispered, "Here we go, darlings. Remember to breathe."

"From our newest students," Dean Bronwen announced, "I select three who have already shown remarkable potential. Nada Blackthorne—"

Meda's heart leaped as she heard her name. Eva's grip on her hand tightened supportively.

"—whose natural defensive instincts and quick thinking have not gone unnoticed. Eva Nightingale, whose analytical mind and protective nature align perfectly with our team's philosophy. And finally, Wanda Hartwell, whose understanding of magical theory and practical application shows great promise."

As the three girls stood to join their new teammates, Isabeta's voice followed them softly. "Remember, my dears, no matter which team claims you, I'm always here. Need advice on handling a difficult teammate? Find me. Struggling with a challenge? I'm your spirit. Want to complain about the food in the dining hall? Well, I can't help with that one, but I'm an excellent listener."

Dean Yseult rose next, her expertise in Metamorphosis evident in the way her appearance seemed to shift subtly in the candlelight. "I seek those who embrace change, who understand that growth requires the courage to transform not just magically, but personally."

Her selections emphasized adaptability and creativity. "From our graduate program, I choose Morgana Blackwood, whose mastery of transformation magic is unparalleled. From our sixteen-year-olds, Seraphina Vale, whose innovative approaches to metamorphosis have broken new ground. From our fourteen-year-olds, Luna Starweaver, whose courage in the face of change inspires us all. From our twelve-year-olds, Iris Moonbeam, whose natural affinity for shapeshifting shows extraordinary promise. From our eleven-year-olds, Sage Willowbrook, whose intuitive understanding of transformation principles amazes even our faculty. And from our eighteen-year-olds, Phoenix Nightshade, whose mastery of advanced metamorphosis techniques sets the standard for excellence."

Finally, Dean Molli Rose stood, her warm presence immediately noticeable. "My team will be founded on heart, determination, and the understanding that our greatest strength comes from supporting one another. I choose those who lead with compassion and fight with purpose."

Her picks reflected her philosophy. "From our graduate program, I select Aria Moonwhisper, whose dedication to her peers is legendary. From our fifteen-year-olds, Jasmine Brightwater, whose leadership qualities shine in every endeavor. From our twelve-year-olds, Melody Songbird, whose unwavering determination and kind heart embody our team's spirit. From our sixteen-year-olds, Harmony Goldleaf, whose ability to unite others in common cause is unmatched. From our fourteen-year-olds, Grace Starlight, whose compassionate nature and fierce loyalty inspire all who know her. And from our eighteen-year-olds, Hope Silverstream, whose wisdom and gentle strength guide others toward their best selves."

As the selection process concluded, President Aislinn stepped forward, her ethereal form commanding absolute attention.

"Now that our teams have been chosen," Aislinn announced, her voice carrying the weight of millennia, "let me remind you all of the rules governing this year's competition."

The hall fell into complete silence.

"The Aislinn's Cup will be awarded to the team achieving the highest combined score across four equally valued categories: Spirits Magic, Community, Scholarship, and Athletics. While all categories carry equal weight in scoring, the Spirits Magic competition traditionally generates the greatest excitement and rivalry among our students."

Isabeta nodded approvingly to her remaining charges. "She's being diplomatic," she whispered. "Everyone knows Spirits Magic is where the real drama happens."

"Each team," Aislinn continued, "comprises six students from diverse age groups, from our youngest eleven-year-olds to our graduate students. This structure ensures mentorship opportunities and allows wisdom to guide enthusiasm. Competitions will take place throughout the academic year, with the final tally determining our champion."

The president's gaze swept across the assembled students. "Those who excel in individual competitions may be granted access to advanced studies. However, such advancement will never come at the cost of the social bonds you form with your age-mates. Community and friendship remain paramount at this institution."

"Translation," Isabeta murmured to her girls, "don't let success go to your head, and don't forget to have fun."

"The competition begins in earnest next week," Aislinn concluded. "Until then, teams are encouraged to meet, strategize, and begin building the bonds that will carry them through the challenges ahead. May wisdom guide your efforts, courage strengthen your resolve, and friendship light your path."

As the assembly began to disperse, Isabeta gathered her remaining thirteen-year-olds around her. "Well, my darlings, those chosen for teams have their adventures ahead, but don't think for a moment that makes you any less special. Every student here has their own unique journey, and I'll be here to help navigate whatever path you find yourselves on."

She winked at the group. "Besides, someone needs to help me keep an eye on those three troublemakers who just got themselves selected. Something tells me they're going to need all the guidance they can get."

Sister's Entrance

It was during their Advanced Transfiguration seminar that the familiar tingle of recognition swept through Meda like lightning. She looked up from her practice of reshaping crystalline structures to see a new student standing in the doorway—a girl of sixteen with dark hair and eyes that held an unsettling mixture of curiosity and calculation.

Wanda.

Even through Isabeta's glamor that made Meda appear as a tall, willowy blonde, something in Wanda's gaze suggested she sensed the truth beneath the magical disguise. Her younger sister moved through the classroom with confident grace, her attention seeming to drift casually over the other students before settling on Meda with unmistakable recognition.

"Class, we have a new student joining us," Professor Morfydd announced. "This is Wanda Hartwell, transferring from the Meridian Academy. Please make her feel welcome."

Eva caught Meda's eye from across the room, her emerald gaze reflecting the same shock and concern. The name Hartwell hung in the air between them like a challenge—their shared surname from their previous life as Fred, now carried by the sister who had arrived to complicate everything they thought they understood about their transformation.

Family Complications

After class, Wanda approached them with the directness that Meda remembered from their childhood, though now it carried an edge of something harder, more purposeful.

"Interesting glamor work," Wanda said without preamble, her voice pitched low enough that only they could hear. "Isabeta's signature style, if I'm not mistaken. Though I have to say, the tall blonde look suits you better than I expected... Meda."

The use of her chosen name sent a chill down Meda's spine. "How did you—"

"Recognize you?" Wanda's smile was sharp. "You can change your appearance, but you can't change your magical signature. Not when we share the same source." She glanced meaningfully at Eva. "Though I admit, I wasn't expecting there to be two of you."

Eva stepped closer, her auburn hair catching the light as she studied Wanda with careful attention. "You're Fred's sister. The one who was also affected by the artifact."

"Among other things," Wanda replied cryptically. "We need to talk. Somewhere private."

Chimera Revelation

They found themselves in one of the college's meditation gardens, a space where crystalline trees created natural privacy barriers and the sound of flowing water masked their conversation from casual eavesdroppers. Wanda settled onto a bench carved from living stone, her posture relaxed but her eyes alert.

"So," she began, "reincarnation. I have to admit, when I felt the magical disturbance three weeks ago, I wondered if you'd finally managed it. Though I expected you to emerge as one person, not twins."

Meda felt Andromeda's memories stirring, ancient knowledge about the complexities of chimeric transformation. "The process was... complicated. Our love for each other created a resonance that split the reincarnation in unexpected ways. Andromeda had her twin, Eva, too."

"Love?" Wanda's eyebrows rose. "I thought Gwen was just your spirit guide."

"She was more than that," Eva said quietly. "Much more, since I was also Sarah and was romantically involved with Fred. We were together before Sarah died, before Fred found the Bit Bucket."

Wanda's expression shifted, calculation giving way to something that might have been understanding. "That explains the twin manifestation. Chimeric souls undergoing reincarnation together—the magical theory alone must have been fascinating to observe."

"You talk about it like an experiment," Meda said, a note of warning in her voice.

"Everything is an experiment when you're dealing with forces this ancient," Wanda replied. "The artifact that affected our mother didn't just create chimeras, Meda. It connected us to a magical lineage that spans millennia. What you've become—what you've awakened—it's going to have consequences far beyond your personal transformation."

Artifact Knowledge

Wanda reached into her robes and withdrew a small crystalline device that seemed to pulse with inner light. Both Meda and Eva felt their magical senses respond to it immediately, recognizing the same energy signature that had shaped their very existence.

"This is a fragment of the original artifact," Wanda explained. "I've been studying it for years, trying to understand what it did to us, what it made us capable of. The chimeric nature isn't a curse, Nada—it's a gift. But it comes with responsibilities."

Eva leaned forward, her empathic abilities picking up complex emotional currents from Wanda. "You're afraid," she said. "Not of us, but of something else. Something connected to our transformation."

Wanda's composure cracked slightly. "Morgana's awakening sent ripples through every magical realm. But she's not the only ancient power that's stirring. The artifact that created us was one of several, scattered across different worlds after the last great war between light and darkness. Your reincarnation has activated them all."

The implications hit Meda like a physical blow. "You mean there are others like us?"

"Potentially," Wanda said. "But most chimeras don't survive the transformation process. The conflicting natures tear them apart before they can achieve integration. You two are... unique."

But even as Wanda smiled and nodded her agreement, Meda caught something in her sister's expression—a flicker of ambition that spoke of desires beyond mere family loyalty. The fragment of artifact in Wanda's hand pulsed with increasing intensity, and for a moment, Meda could swear she saw hunger in her sister's eyes.

Alliance Formation

The weight of cosmic responsibility settled around them like a shroud. Meda could feel Andromeda's memories pressing against her consciousness, ancient knowledge about the delicate balance between magical forces and the price of wielding power on a universal scale.

"So what do you want from us?" Eva asked, her voice steady despite the magnitude of what they were discussing.

"I want to help," Wanda said simply. "I've spent twenty years living with the knowledge that I'm connected to something vast and dangerous. When I felt your transformation, I knew the time for hiding was over. Whatever's coming, we're stronger together than apart."

Meda studied her sister's face, seeing echoes of the girl she'd known in their previous life but also recognizing something new—a determination forged by years of solitary study and preparation. "And what exactly do you think is coming?"

"War," Wanda said without hesitation. "Not just between you and Morgana, but between all the forces that have been sleeping since the last great conflict. Your reincarnation was like lighting a beacon that every ancient power can see. Some will want to ally with you. Others will want to destroy you before you can reach your full potential."

Eva's hand found Meda's, their sisterly bond providing comfort in the face of overwhelming uncertainty. "Then we'll face it together," Eva said. "All three of us."

The Secret Scrolls

Isabeta materialized in the thirteen-year-old common room with her characteristic theatrical flair, floating gracefully above the assembled girls with an armload of elegant scrolls tied with shimmering ribbons. Her ethereal form practically sparkled with mischief as she surveyed the eager faces below.

"Well, well, my darlings," she announced with a dramatic flourish, "it seems some of you have caught the attention of certain distinguished faculty members." She held up the scrolls, each one sealed with different colored wax—deep blue for Dean Bronwen's team, silver for Dean Yseult's, and warm gold for Dean Molli Rose's.

Meda, Eva, and Wanda exchanged excited glances as Isabeta began her distribution with ceremonial gravity.

"Miss Blackthorne," Isabeta intoned, presenting Meda with a scroll sealed in deep blue wax, "your presence has been... requested." She winked conspiratorially.

"Miss Nightingale," she continued, floating to Eva with another blue-sealed scroll, "apparently your analytical mind has made quite the impression."

"And Miss Hartwell," Isabeta concluded, offering Wanda her matching scroll with an exaggerated bow, "your theoretical understanding has not gone unnoticed."

As Isabeta distributed scrolls to other chosen students throughout the room, Cordelia—a copper-haired girl from Dean Yseult's team—practically vibrated with excitement. The moment Isabeta handed her the silver-sealed scroll, her curiosity overwhelmed her patience.

"I can't wait!" Cordelia burst out, immediately breaking the wax seal despite the meaningful looks from her fellow recipients. "I have to know what—oh my!"

Her eyes widened as she unrolled the parchment, reading aloud before anyone could stop her: "You are cordially invited to a celebratory feast in honor of the newly chosen teams, to be held tonight at the stroke of midnight in the Great Hall. Following the banquet, each team will convene privately with their respective dean for strategic planning and orientation."

The room fell silent except for Cordelia's continued reading: "Those chosen are hereby excused from curfew restrictions for this evening. You are to slip quietly from your dormitories once your housemates are asleep and make your way to the Great Hall. Discretion is paramount—this gathering is for team members only."

Isabeta sighed dramatically, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, Cordelia, darling. The concept of 'sealed for privacy' seems to have escaped you entirely."

Cordelia's face flushed crimson as she realized her mistake. "I'm so sorry! I was just so excited, and I thought—"

"No harm done, sweet child," Isabeta laughed, her voice like silver bells. "Though I do hope the rest of you can manage to contain your curiosity until you reach the privacy of your own beds. The suspense is half the fun, after all."

Meda clutched her unopened scroll, feeling the weight of anticipation. A midnight feast, private meetings with Dean Bronwen, and the thrill of sneaking through the castle corridors while their dormmates slept—it felt like the beginning of something truly extraordinary.

"Now then," Isabeta continued with mock sternness, "I trust you'll all be model students for the remainder of the evening. Get plenty of rest before dinner, because something tells me you'll need your energy for what lies ahead."

As the spirit began to fade from view, she called back with a final bit of advice: "And do try to be quiet when you slip out tonight. The last thing we need is to wake the entire dormitory with your midnight adventures. Some secrets are worth keeping, my dears."

The chosen students exchanged knowing glances, each clutching their scrolls like precious treasures, already counting the hours until midnight would arrive.

Hidden Agendas

The three sisters afterward met again focused on their previous discussion interupted by the distribution of scrolls by Isabeta.

"There's something else," Wanda said, her voice carefully casual. "The artifacts aren't just connected to our chimeric nature. They're keys—each one unlocks a different aspect of the ancient magical matrix that governs reality itself. If someone were to gather them all..."

"They could reshape the world," Meda finished, understanding flooding through her. "That's what you really want, isn't it? Not just to help us, but to claim that power for yourself."

Wanda's mask slipped completely, revealing the ambitious young woman beneath. "Is that so wrong? We're chimeras, Meda. We're already outside the normal order of things. Why shouldn't we take our place as the architects of a new reality?"

The garden around them seemed to hold its breath as the three sisters faced each other across a chasm of conflicting desires. Meda felt the weight of Andromeda's wisdom pressing against her consciousness, warning her about the seductive nature of absolute power and the price of choosing ambition over love.

"Because," Eva said quietly, her voice carrying the authority of hard-won understanding, "power without compassion becomes tyranny. And tyranny, no matter how well-intentioned, always leads to suffering."

Wanda's expression hardened. "Spoken like someone who's never had to fight for recognition, never had to prove their worth in a world that sees them as an aberration."

"We've all fought those battles," Meda said firmly. "But we don't have to become monsters to win them."

The tension between them stretched taut as a bowstring, and Meda realized that their family reunion had become something far more complex than she'd anticipated. Wanda wasn't just an ally—she was a potential rival, someone whose desires for power could either complement their mission or destroy everything they'd worked to build.

As if summoned by the intensity of their conflict, a cold wind swept through the garden, carrying with it the faint sound of laughter that made all three sisters freeze. Somewhere in the distance, Morgana's presence pressed against the college's protective barriers, drawn by the magical resonance of their confrontation.

The ancient war between light and darkness was accelerating, and now they faced the possibility that the greatest threat might come not from their legendary enemy, but from within their own family. The next few days would determine whether the Hartwell sisters would stand united against the coming storm, or whether their conflicting ambitions would tear them apart before the real battle could even begin.