Page 8 of Revenge is a Witch

My hands shake as I step back from her desk, feeling utterly defeated. The other students have already left the classroom, and I’m standing there alone, staring at the empty shell of what was once my most prized possession.

“How...” I whisper to myself again, barely able to comprehend how this could’ve happened. I feel like I’ve been robbed—like a part of me has been ripped away, and I have no idea who did it or why.

The weight of Malakar’s decision sinks in, and I slowly turn to leave the classroom, my mind racing with questions and disbelief.

Who could’ve done this? How could they have possibly gotten past the protections on my grimoire? And most importantly... why?

I leave the classroom feeling like I’m walking through a nightmare.

I sit in the cafeteria, staring blankly at the sandwich in front of me. It could be made of cardboard for all I care. Sam and Derek sit across from me, doing their best to comfort me, but their words barely register. All I can think about is that my entire grimoire—three years’ worth of work—vanished overnight. Andworse? I’m going to be the laughingstock of the entire school once people find out.

A witch without a spellbook. What a joke.

Sam reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “Z, I know it’s bad, but you’ll figure something out. You always do.”

I manage a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah, except this time I don’t have a backup plan. Everyone’s going to know I couldn’t even keep track of my own grimoire. I’ll bethatwitch. The one who couldn’t even complete the one thing that defines us.”

Derek leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to come up with a solution. “There’s gotta be some way to fix this. Can’t you just—recreate it? You’ve gotta remember most of what you wrote down, right?”

I shrug, picking at the edge of my sandwich wrapper. “I remember some of it, sure. But it’s not just about remembering spells. There are enchantments, unique tweaks I’ve made over time, little personal touches. And the protection spells... someone tampered with it. I don’t even know how that’s possible.”

Sam frowns, her voice soft. “I don’t understand. If your grimoire was enchanted, who could have broken through that? It doesn’t make sense.”

I shake my head, feeling the familiar frustration welling up again. “I don’t know. It’s like someone erased everything. Every single page.”

The three of us sit in silence for a moment, the noise of the cafeteria swirling around us—laughing students, clattering trays, the faint hum of conversation. But none of it really matters. All I can think about is what happens next.

Sam suddenly perks up, her eyes lighting up with an idea. “What if you went back to Professor Malakar? Maybe youcould ask for an extension—just enough time to rewrite your grimoire.”

I look at her, feeling a sliver of hope for the first time. “An extension? You think she’d give me one?”

Sam nods, her face serious. “You’ve never asked for anything like that before. She knows you’re a hard worker, Z. It’s worth a shot.”

Derek nods in agreement. “Yeah, if anyone could pull it off, it’s you. She might be strict, but she’s not heartless.” I chew on my lip, considering it. Asking for an extension feels... desperate. But what other choice do I have? Without my grimoire, I’m screwed. And if I can at least get a few weeks to put something together, maybe—just maybe—I can salvage this disaster.

“I’ll do it,” I say finally, my voice firmer than I feel. “I’ll go back to Professor Malakar and ask for an extension. It’s my only shot.”

Sam squeezes my hand again, her eyes bright with encouragement. “You’ve got this, Z. We’ll help you however we can.”

I nod, standing up from the table with renewed determination. “I’ll head to her office now. I can’t waste any more time.”

The walk to Professor Malakar’s office feels like the longest one of my life. My heart pounds in my chest, and I rehearse what I’m going to say over and over in my head. I’ve never asked for an extension on anything before, and the idea of pleading my case makes me feel vulnerable in a way I don’t like. But I have no choice.

When I reach her office, I knock lightly on the door. A moment later, her cool voice calls from inside. “Enter.”

I step in, clutching my now-empty grimoire in my hands like it’s a lifeline. Professor Malakar sits behind her desk, sorting through a stack of papers, her expression unreadable. She looks up as I approach, raising an eyebrow.

“Miss Vexx,” she says, setting the papers aside. “To what do I owe this visit? Have you reconsidered your position on the grimoire?”

I swallow, feeling the nerves creep up my throat. “Professor, I—I wanted to ask if there’s any chance I could be granted an extension. Just 30 days to rewrite my grimoire. I know it’s a long shot, but I’m confident I can recreate most of the spells and improve on them. I just... need more time.”

Malakar leans back in her chair, studying me for a long moment. Her gaze is piercing, and I feel like she can see right through me. Finally, she speaks, her voice measured.

“You’ve always been diligent in your work, which is why this situation is... unfortunate, to say the least.” My heart sinks, but she holds up a hand before I can speak. “That being said, I understand the gravity of your request. And while I cannot excuse the absence of your work, I believe you when you say it was complete before this incident.” She taps her fingers lightly on her desk, then nods once. “I will grant you 30 days to present a new grimoire. However, the standards will be the same. This extension does not excuse incomplete work or subpar spells. You will be judged as harshly as any other student.”

A wave of relief washes over me, and I nearly sag with gratitude. “Thank you, Professor. I won’t waste this chance.”

Malakar gives me a small nod, her expression softening just a fraction. “I hope not, Miss Vexx. Now, go. You have much work to do.”

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