01/30/2026: The Orb of Unwritten Words

The halls of Strixhaven echo with confusion and chaos as the hexmates find themselves scattered across campus, each dealing with their own bizarre predicament.

Debbie wanders through the corridors in a white doctor’s coat, her skin still prickling from the residue of the gelatinous cube form she had been polymorphed into. The stone floor is cold beneath her bare feet. Two of the Silverquill students have fled, and she is alone in one of the empty classrooms.

⚔

In a classroom across the quad, spider-KFC, still trapped in the body of a giant arachnid, scuttles from desk to desk. Her eight legs click against wood and tile as she searches.

Clumsily, three of her legs fumble a small box, which lands on the floor with a crunch. Fluids, both orange and pale purple, seep onto the floor and spatter spider-KFC’s hairy abdomen. Engulfed in a muddy brown glowing aura, she begins singing a tune about loving to drink tree sap in a resinous baritone—one of the effects of the unfortunate combination of potions. Her voice doesn’t quite match her arachnid form, the sound echoing strangely through the empty room, and it can be heard several rooms away.

Still searching for the Orb, spider-KFC works through the classroom and its adjacent office. Unfortunately her spider limbs are not well adapted for opening drawers and searching beneath desks, and soon the floor is covered in overturned furniture and scattered textbooks. The surfaces and corners of the room are thick with sticky webbing.

Battering down the classroom door, which has closed behind her, spider-KFC exits and squeezes up the tight stairwell to the second floor. A dozen students mill in the corridor. Spider-KFC waves in what she hopes is a friendly gesture.

The students scream and flee. Distant doors slam.

Undeterred, spider-KFC continues her search.

⚔

Finally at the Star Arch, Hester arrives in her flumph form, her translucent body pulsing with bioluminescent light. The Arch rises before her, its floating granite stars casting shifting shadows on the pavement beneath. Around its pair of bases, polymorphed students and faculty sit or lie in various states of transformation—a hotdog with relish, a Labrador retriever running frantically in circles and barking, a cactus that occasionally sighs, a small flock of parrots that seem to be discussing school schedules..

An open door beckons from one of the stone bases of the Arch. Hester floats through it and, after turning a corner at the bottom of a flight of stairs, feels the familiar pull of transformation. Her body solidifies, lengthens, returns to its owlin shape.

Whew.

Beyond the door, darkness and fog envelop everything. Hester descends into the underarch—a space she has never been before, and was unaware even existed. Massive machinery looms out of the mist, gears clicking and whirring with irregular rhythm. Electric discharges crack through the ozone-charged air as brilliant blue-white arcs leave afterimages on her vision.

Green glowing fields arc between numerous metal structures, seeming to flow toward a central apparatus sitting in puddles spread across the floor. Their surfaces reflect the sporadic lightning. Hester steps carefully around them, suspecting they are electrified.

A small sound catches her attention—a mew, frightened and insistent. An orange cat lies on its side beneath a piece of machinery, its fur standing on end. Hester approaches slowly and tugs it out by one foot. The moment her fingers touch its fur, the cat shimmers and transforms. Dean Augusta collapses against her, badly burned and disoriented.

“There’s a water elemental,” Dean Augusta gasps, clutching her side where her robes are torn and burned. “Trapped in the arcane machinery of the Star Arch. It’s disrupting everything—the equipment, the emanation flow through campus. We need to free the creature to restore the Star Arch’s function.”

Hester helps the Dean to a dry section of the room and approaches the machinery to investigate. She leans close, trying to identify its purpose and function. A discharge crackles past her ear, close enough that her hair stands on end and the smell of ozone fills her nose. Her heart pounds as she jerks back.

As she bends to examine one of the gauges, the water elemental strains, throwing a watery limb outward in an attempt to pull itself free from the base of the largest apparatus. A glowing green light becomes momentarily visible as the elemental strains against some unseen force. With a groan and a snap, it is jerked back. More water sloshes onto the floor.

The machinery is beyond her knowledge, but one thing is clear: a creature is trapped against its will in the equipment by some sort of spell. Hester calls over her shoulder, “Will a Dispel Magic help here, Dean Augusta?”

The Dean frowns, thinking for a moment before responding. “Possibly, Hester. I have no arcane energy left, my dear. How about you? Is Dispel Magic a spell you know?”

It is not. The only people Hester knows who possess that particular spell are Titania and Quintilius.

Hester pulls out a parchment and her unused Broom of Flying from her pack. She scrawls a quick note explaining the situation and sends it flying upward with her message tucked in its bristles. Hopefully it will find Titania, who hopefully will have enough arcane energy left for a single spell.

That is, if she can make it to the Star Arch without getting polymorphed into something that isn’t able to move.

⚔

In another part of campus, Reyna and Titania face their own challenge. The Orb of Unwritten Words sits before them, its interior swirling with script that forms words like messages in a snow globe.

SUBMIT YOUR ESSAY.

The lettering is precise. Judgmental.

They exchange glances, Titania puts quill to parchment. The Orb has assigned her a five-paragraph essay on footwear, arcane energies, and fey creatures. Titania had objected. Strenuously. To no avail. And so she sits to write.

And is unable to think of a single thing to say.

“I can write for you,” offers Reyna to her hexmate. To the Orb, she asks, “Is that acceptable?”

STUDENTS SHALL DO THEIR OWN WORK.

The Orb makes its wishes known rapidly. Instead, it assigns Reyna a 22-page self-critique of her own final project in her Pyromantic Design class.

While Titania sits and stares at a blank page, Reyna grinds out page after page. Finally, Titania is moved to scrawl a few lines.

Reyna’s thick bundle of sheets is set on the table, and the Orb is placed atop it. Within its swirling interior, the Orb sends word after word twirling through the glass, commentary forming on its inner surface.

HANDWRITING: ATROCIOUS, D-. THESIS: BARELY COHERENT, C-.

Titania submits their single page next. The Orb is placed atop it and renders judgement. It whirls, and finally, after what feels like hours, golden light blooms from inside the glass. A message appears in large letters:

A+++.

YOU MAY REMOVE ME NOW.

The announcement carries what might be satisfaction.

With distaste, Reyna observes that the Orb must grade assignments for the professors—a way to avoid the endless tedium of marking student work. 

A Silverquill student enters the classroom, frowning at them. “What are you doing in Professor Murg’s office? He’s on sabbatical. You need to leave.”

Titania smooths their expression into one of practiced confidence. “We’re taking this orb to IT for calibration.”

The student nods, barely glancing at the Orb, and continues on his way.

The broom arrives moments later, tapping at the window. Hester’s note is clutched in its bristles. Reyna presses the Orb against the glass, and the broom, cooperatively, moves to press the note against it. Immediately, the Orb begins its evaluation.

PENMANSHIP AND WRITING MECHANICS: POOR, D. CONTENT: FAIR, B-.

They ignore the critique and demand a transcription. Soon enough, the content is clear: Hester, along with Dean Augusta, needs help. A Dispel Magic is required immediately.

Titania checks their reserves of magical energy and shakes their head. “I don’t have the arcane energy. I’ll need to rest for at least eight hours to regain them.”

“We don’t have eight hours,” Reyna says, tension threading through her voice.

“Quintilius could do it,” Titania suggests. “If we can find him.”

⚔

Inside one of the unoccupied rooms, Debbie finally locates a tennis racket and some clean gym gear that fits well enough. She pulls on the t-shirt and shorts and continues her search for the Orb. She opens doors and checks classrooms but finds nothing.

From down the corridor—a dormitory wing of Silverquill—Debbie clearly hears the panicked screams and shouts of students. There is some sort of monster somewhere in the building. A giant something: she cannot hear what, exactly.

Stepping into the hall, Debbie is confronted by the hairy back of a massive spider. The enormous creature scuttles to turn in the tight corridor, waving its front pair of legs and snapping its mandibles. Debbie steps back, cautious.

⚔

Spider-KFC is overjoyed to see Debbie, who is dressed for working out. Waving  and calling a welcome that sounds perfectly fine to her own ears, spider-KFC is surprised to see Debbie drop back, a wary look upon her face.

⚔

Crouching, Debbie moves her only weapon—a tennis racket—in front of herself. The giant spider hisses at her, waving its legs in what might be aggression. It starts down the corridor toward her.

Debbie charges.

She swats the giant spider’s side to make room in the hallway so that she can get past it. The huge arachnid shies away, allowing Debbie to scoot by.

Scrabbling, the spider slowly turns to face the direction Debbie has dashed. It follows easily until the corridor narrows with furniture and bookcases. The spider races in only to get stuck fast.

Up the hallway, Debbie throws open a door and rushes into what appears to be a library, hoping the spider does not free itself too quickly. She slides several chairs and a table against the door, which will slow anyone— anything— trying to enter. Including, Debbie hopes most sincerely, the giant spider.

On the wall hangs a framed architect’s compass, old brass gleaming in the lamplight. Debbie recognizes it immediately from the descriptions they have gathered. One of the seven artifacts.

She lifts the frame carefully from the wall and smashes the glass. Prying the compass loose from its mounting, the weight of it is solid in her hands.

Reaching into her pocket, she finds no gold coins. She scrawls an IOU on a scrap of parchment and leaves it atop the destroyed frame.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​