One-word prompt: "melody"

I got this idea from Riot45 and Queen_neef13 (you should definitely check out the prompts that both of them have given) to give just open ended and one word propmt. Cause sometimes that's all you need to get the creativity going! Do with this what you would like! I will be putting my story as a chapter two so as not to influence what you write.

Karla barely even had to try to summon songlight anymore. Just a whisper and the magic crackled to life in her hand, blue and sparking like lightning. She moved down the halls of Presque Isle as silently as she could, although her boot heels complicated that a little bit. Clunking against the smooth stone floor, she made her way toward the center of the great estate.

Something was very wrong at this school. Lord Presque and his servants and schoolteachers didn't seem concerned with it at all, but four students, Karla's friends, were missing. Only Catly, the dean of students, had tried to track them down, and she had found nothing. If anyone was going to set this case to right, it was going to be Karla. She was the most powerful songweaver of her generation--some people might have argued otherwise, but could they control water and lightning at the same time? She didn't think so. Whatever was happening, she was going to handle it. And if she couldn't handle it, the Council would handle it for her.

She remembered when Presque had first announced the creation of a magic school in his house. Her father, Lord Jaken, had been skeptical of the idea at first. "He says everyone will be welcome," he'd told Karla at dinner, "not just the children of songlords." And she had dutifully acted disgusted back then, but now? Now her best friends were children of outlanders, salarymen, and even a kid from the slums of Cleftop. Presque Isle wasn't just a school of magic, it was a place where people from all of Trivera could connect. If it was in danger, she was going to save it.

Something caught her ear as she walked by a hanging tapestry, a picture of Lord Presque magically animated with his gold-colored power. A strange melody, flutter echoing between the thick stone walls. Someone was weaving a songspell--an unfamiliar one. She recognized the key of a powerful spell, but the tune was unfamiliar. The lead voice sounded like... no, that couldn't be right, it sounded like Nicole. The gentle weaver with her lavender-colored power, one of Karla's first friends at the academy. The first friend who went missing. The words were something about unity and power. Then Presque joined in, taking the lead as he so often did when he worked magic with the Council, low and eerily haunting.

If they notice me, I'm in trouble. Students were not supposed to stay at Presque Isle after hours, though Karla knew that Catly sometimes allowed students to break that rule if they had forgotten something or needed a bit of extra mentoring. If she got caught, as a highborn, the punishment probably wouldn't be too terrible. Still, she didn't want to be on Presque's bad side. He was a serious and powerful songlord, at once charming and cold. Sometimes she wondered if he had created this academy because he wanted to help Echohome, or because he wanted to make himself look good.

She closed her mouth, and the songlight in her hand blinked out. The words to an illusion song ran through her mind--could she disguise herself as someone else? As Dean Catly, who was supposed to be here? Better not risk it. Illusions were difficult at the best of times, since they required a level of finesse she didn't quite have yet. Blasting things with electricity? That, she could do. Problems that couldn't be solved by lightning, could be solved by getting the Council involved.

The strange songspell grew quieter as she approached the teachers' quarters. Karla put her ear to each door in turn, hearing nothing but soft snores. The melody was coming from farther ahead. She had never been to that part of Presque Isle before.

She strode forward confidently, summoning light back to her hand and holding it out in front of her. Doorways on either side of this hall led to nothing but storage rooms and empty quarters for the servants Lord Presque didn't have. She swept the songlight through each room, finding nothing, until she reached the very end of the hall.

This is his office, she realized, as she read the name on the heavy oaken door. If I enter it, I'm breaking and entering for real. It might be war between the houses of Jaken and Presque.

So. She just wouldn't get caught. Lord Presque was busy weaving a songspell, so he wouldn't be in his office.

Karla entered the room and saw a messy desk covered in stacks of paper. It sat between two marble statues of trees, an unlit light fixture hanging from the ceiling. She threw a bit of magic onto the lamp, illuminating the whole office in a soft light blue. Frantically, she rifled through stacks of paper, looking for anything that might help.

It was all taxes and business rolls--ordinary governmental documents. Karla shook her head. Her father didn't keep his signature spells in plain sight, so why would Presque? Remembering what she had seen back home, she searched beneath the desk, running her hands across the rough surface and searching for a lever or button. At last, a small drawer popped out the side.

The journal inside was slim, made of plain brown leather. She was surprised to only see one journal; her father had at least five thick ones, and those were just the ones she had seen. Feeling a sense of pride, Karla placed it on the desk and began reading.

Instantly, horror coursed through her. The words Damned Rite at the top of the page stuck out in Presque's jagged handwriting, followed by a list of lyrics and notes that spanned several pages. The more she read, the worse it got. This was a songspell for taking control of people against their will. Stealing all their power and replacing it with your own. Things like this weren't supposed to be possible. And when she saw a list of targets, rattling off the names of her missing friends, the lightning sparked in her eyes of its own volition.

This was the melody she had been hearing as she wandered these halls. If only she had gotten here earlier. If only she had known what he was doing. She could have saved them all.

What Karla didn't notice was that the singing in the other room had stopped. As her back was turned to the door, it swung open with a woosh of night wind.

Nicole walked in the doorway, her eyes sunken. "A thieving sneak," she said, and though the voice and cadence was hers, it held no trace of friendship. When she summoned magic to her hand, it was her starry light, but gold instead of lavender. "Highborn, but a sneak all the same."

Karla stepped back, though she knew there was nowhere to retreat. "The Council will stop you," she intoned.

"The Council cannot stop us," Nicole answered, as Karla's lightning bounced harmlessly off a summoned shield. "When our work is finished, Trivera will have no more use for Lords. All will bow to its King."