Page 7 of Revenge is a Witch

Where's My Book?

The next morning, I walk intoArcane Mastery & Controlclass—possibly the most important class of my entire life at this point. This class is the one that determines whether or not we’ll get our casting licenses. Without it, I’m basically a glorified hobbyist witch, limited to classroom spells, unable to practice magic in the real world. And today, of course, is the day we hand in our grimoires to assess our skills.

My stomach churns with a mix of nerves and excitement as I slide into my usual seat at the back of the room. The classroom feels more charged than usual, probably because everyone else is just as anxious as I am. The walls are lined with tall bookshelves filled with ancient tomes on magic theory and practice, and the air is heavy with the scent of burned sage and old parchment.

Professor Malakar, our teacher—a stern witch with graying hair that matches the charcoal robes she always wears—stands at the front, her sharp eyes scanning the room. She’s the kind of teacher who can smell fear, and today she’s practically drowning in it.

The usual hum of morning chatter is quieter than normal. Everyone knows what’s at stake today.

I reach into my bag to pull out my grimoire, the familiar feel of the worn leather cover giving me a small sense of comfort. But the second I touch it, something feels... off. The weight is the same, but there’s this strange, unnatural stillness to it.

My heart skips a beat, and I freeze, staring down at it. Slowly, I flip it open.

My stomach drops.

The pages areblank.

All of them.

My breath catches in my throat, and I quickly flip through the entire book, panic rising with each empty page. How is this possible? My grimoire is enchanted to resist any tampering, especially magical interference. There’s no way it should be blank—no way someone could’ve done this.

But the evidence is right in front of me. Page after page of... nothing.

I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“How...?” I whisper to myself, fingers trembling as I flip back to the first page. There’s not even a trace of ink, no smudges, no signs that the pages were ever filled. My entire grimoire—the work I’ve been pouring into for years—is just... gone.

Professor Malakar clears her throat at the front of the room, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. “It’s time,” she announces, her voice cool and authoritative. “Please come forward one by one and hand in your grimoires. You will be notified of your results within the week.”

My pulse races as students start lining up, handing over their precious grimoires with a mix of confidence and fear. Sam, sitting a few rows in front of me, gives me a quick smile and a thumbs up as she walks up to the desk. I can barely bring myself to return the gesture.

I can’t go up there. Not with this.

But what choice do I have?

When my turn comes, I walk up slowly, feeling like every step is heavier than the last. My grimoire feels like a dead weight in my hands. I approach Professor Malakar, who’s seated at her desk, collecting the books in neat stacks.

I stand there for a moment, clutching the blank grimoire, my heart pounding in my chest. “Professor... I—I have a problem.”

Malakar raises an eyebrow, looking up from the stack of grimoires with a hint of irritation. “Yes, Miss Vexx?”

“I—I don’t know what happened, but my grimoire... it’s blank,” I say, my voice shaking slightly. “It was full last night, but this morning, it’s just... gone. Everything is gone.”

Her expression hardens as she holds out her hand for the book. Reluctantly, I hand it over, praying for some kind of miracle. She flips through the empty pages, her brow furrowing.

“Miss Vexx, I trust you understand the importance of this assessment?” Her tone is clipped, almost disbelieving.

“Yes, of course! I wouldn’t lie about something like this,” I insist, feeling a wave of panic. “I swear it was all there—spells, potions, everything! I don’t know how it could’ve happened. The book’s supposed to be protected against tampering.”

She closes the book and sets it on her desk with a sigh. “Without a complete grimoire to present, I’m afraid I cannot evaluate your abilities. The completion of the grimoire is a key component of this course, and... without it, you will have to repeat the year.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Repeat the year? No. This can’t be happening.

“Professor, please,” I say, my voice rising slightly as desperation creeps in. “I’ve worked so hard on that grimoire. You know I wouldn’t make this up. Something must have happened—maybe someone tampered with it, or—”

“Miss Vexx,” she cuts me off, her voice firm. “I’m sorry, but without the completed work, there is nothing I can do. If you can’t present your grimoire in its entirety, you will have to start again next year.”

The words echo in my head, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. Start again? Everything I’ve done, all the spells, all the progress—it’s all gone?

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