Debt, Demons, and a Very Angry Grandma

[Congratulations. You survived. Barely.]

The system's smug commentary reverberated in my head as I trudged down the Academy hallway, dripping wet and utterly drained. My boots squelched with every step, leaving a trail of water behind me that would probably cause some unlucky student to slip. Good. Misery loves company.

"Do you feel accomplished, Liria?" Ananara's voice dripped with mockery from his perch on my shoulder. "All that effort, and you're still a mediocre mage. Truly inspiring."

"Say one more word," I growled, "and I'll chuck you into the nearest soup pot."

Before the pineapple could retort, the hallway darkened ominously, and the faint scent of lavender and brimstone tickled my nose. My stomach dropped. Only one person smelled like that.

Daena.