The echoing silence of the school basement felt deafening after the magical chaos. Booma, still leaning against the damp concrete wall, clutched the Locket of Whispered Wishes and gasped for air. She was back. The oppressive feeling of the Mundane Realm was heavy, but the vibrant power of Aethel still pulsed beneath her skin.
"Less than thirty minutes, Booma. If you don't show, you forfeit the competition," Bujji communicated telepathically, now perched on her shoulder, looking like an exceptionally fluffy, slightly soot-stained house cat. "And you need that stage full of emotional energy to recharge the locket after that expulsion spell."
Booma pushed herself upright. Her school uniform was covered in dust, and her shoes were scraped from the magical skirmish. She focused her intent, channeling a small, controlled stream of Aethel's elemental Nature magic into her uniform. The dust vanished instantly, the fabric smoothing out, looking pristine and untouched. A subtle, shimmering pattern, invisible to the average eye, laced the pleats of her skirt.
"Okay. Fast, quiet, and absolutely no magic unless absolutely necessary," Booma muttered, hoisting her backpack, which still felt impossibly light despite her heavy sketchbook inside.
They found a narrow, rarely used stairwell leading up from the basement. The clatter of her shoes on the steps seemed deafeningly loud. Bursting through the basement door, Booma found herself in the quiet, empty wing of the Science Department—a stark contrast to the buzzing chaos of the gymnasium just a few corridors away.
As she rounded the corner towards the main hall, she ran headlong into a pair of frantic figures.
"Booma!"
It was Maya and Rishi. Their faces, etched with genuine worry, instantly broke into massive, tearful relief.
"Where were you? The police, the teachers—everyone was looking! We were so hurting with worry!" Maya cried, immediately pulling Booma into a tight embrace.
"We thought you'd been broken by the pressure, or maybe... maybe you just ran away," Rishi said, his voice shaking.
Booma forced a weak smile, her mind racing to create a plausible fiction. "I—I just had to get away, you know? The exam stress, the... the whole thing. I went on a really long mountain walk outside the city. No signal." It was a lie, but she hoped the exhaustion on her face made it believable.
"Two weeks?" Maya demanded, pulling back to scrutinize her. "You look... different. Like you haven't slept, but also... like you can fight a dragon."
Booma quickly deflected. "Speaking of fighting, how much time until the Fashion Show starts? I still have to register my final designs!"
The mention of the competition jolted Maya back to reality. "Ten minutes! Hurry! But Booma, there's something you need to know about the show… and Chinnappa."
Before Maya could elaborate, a familiar voice cut through the air, sending a dizzying mix of anxiety and longing through Booma.
"Booma! You're back!"
Chinnappa strode towards them, his usual easy smile replaced by a look of intense, serious relief. He wasn't surrounded by friends; he was alone, carrying her heavy, leather-bound sketchbook—the one containing the design of the Locket of Whispered Wishes.
Booma's heart hammered against her ribs. He had the proof. He knew.
"I found this at your house," Chinnappa said, his eyes searching hers, looking for answers that went beyond "mountain walk." "And I saw the woman by the Metro Train station. Where were you, Booma? What happened with the locket? Did you go... there?"
Booma instantly felt the weight of her secret. She couldn't tell him about Aethel, the Sorrow Amulet, or the Shadow King. She had to protect him. She had to be cruel.
She pulled her hand away, stepping back slightly, injecting a coldness into her voice that made even Maya gasp. "My sketchbook? Thanks, Chinnappa. I was just taking a break. You read too much fiction. What 'locket' are you talking about? And why do you care so much? We're just classmates."
The dismissal was brutal, aimed directly at the heart of their long-standing tension. Chinnappa recoiled, the genuine worry in his eyes replaced by confusion and a sharp flash of hurting. He had risked his sanity searching for a magical explanation, and she was denying everything, treating him like a stranger.
"I see," he murmured, his face hardening. The smile was gone, replaced by the polite, distant mask he reserved for casual acquaintances. "Welcome back, then. I hope the rain didn't spoil your designs." He placed the sketchbook on the nearest desk and walked away, his shoulders tense.
Booma stood frozen, watching him go. The lie hurt her far more than it hurt him, but she knew it was necessary to ensure his safety. My one-sided love will remain one-sided, she thought, because it has to.
"What was that, Booma?" Maya whispered, shocked. "You were so mean!"
"No time," Booma said, pushing past the guilt. "The show. Now tell me about the rival."
Maya, though still reeling from the encounter, quickly caught up. "Okay. Leena. The new transfer student. She's gorgeous, super popular, and get this: she's also entered the fashion show. Her designs are... brilliant. Ethereal, shimmering, almost magical. People are already saying she's going to win."
Booma felt a familiar prickle of recognition. Leena. The new girl who was distracting Chinnappa. The girl who arrived right when the dark energy in the Mundane Realm was spiking.
"Shadow King's influence," Bujji confirmed telepathically. "A beautiful face is the perfect disguise for malice. She's a strong candidate, Booma. Likely a spy, or worse."
Booma looked at the gymnasium doors, which were now thrown open. The stage glowed with spotlights; the air pulsed with a vibrant mix of ambition, desire, and competition. This was it: the final confrontation, not just for a school prize, but for the safety of her entire world. Her magically enhanced Fashion Show designs were her final spell.
"We need to get ready," Booma declared, a fierce look in her eyes. "Let's see whose magic is stronger."
She left the shattered remains of her ordinary life, her friendship, and her broken heart behind her, and strode toward the lights. The competition had begun.