Facundo's Associate

The air in the library, usually thick with the comforting scent of aged parchment and quiet concentration, crackled with a different sort of energy. It wasn't the hum of magical discovery, but a nervous tension that had settled over Cora Amauta like a shroud. The 'accidents,' as they were still being called, were becoming too frequent, too specific, to be mere coincidence. A student tripping over an invisible obstacle in the grand hall, another suddenly engulfed in a harmless but terrifying burst of spectral flames, and the most recent, a section of the ancient oak in the courtyard inexplicably wilting overnight, its leaves turning to ash. Each incident echoed the ominous verses of the Centenary Jaguar’s curse, and the whispers in the corridors grew louder, tinged with genuine fear.

"It's too perfect, Emiliano," Amanda murmured, tracing a finger over a worn diagram of ancient summoning circles in a forbidden tome. Her brow was furrowed with a familiar intensity. "These aren't just random mishaps. They're… designed. Too precise. Like someone is staging them."

Emiliano, perched on a stool nearby, meticulously cataloged a series of seemingly unrelated reports of minor magical malfunctions across the school. "Precisely. And the timing? Each incident aligns with a specific warning in that cursed message. The spectral flames, the wilting oak… it’s almost as if someone is *proving* the legend's power." He looked up, his analytical gaze meeting Amanda’s. "But who would want to do that, and why? It doesn't make sense for it to be purely an act of malice towards the school itself. There has to be a deeper motive."