The Stolen Aruba

They say it’s always the people you know.

Riley’s thumb brushes against the hem of her sleeve as she sits stiffly before the Director of Magic. The polished obsidian table stretches wide in the grand chamber, an imposing divide between her and the row of stern-faced Magic Board members flanking the Director. Their gazes bear down on her, sharp and expectant. Her voice still lingers in the room, the last syllables of her testimony echoing faintly. She had recounted every detail—the theft of the Aruba, an ancient magical artifact, and the identity of the thief.

Kendra.

The knot in her stomach tightens. Guilt prickles at her even now, and she hates it. Kendra wasn’t her friend, not by a long shot. She was a bully, a manipulator, the kind of person who thrived on power plays. It shouldn’t be surprising that she would steal the Aruba. More importantly, she’d stolen it for *them*. For their enemies. Riley clenches her fists beneath the table, nails pressing into her palms. She bites the inside of her cheek, repeating to herself: *I don’t owe her anything. I owe her nothing.*

The heavy double doors creak open, their groan breaking the tense silence. All heads turn as Kendra strides into the chamber, the tap of her boots against the marble floor sharp and deliberate. She’s dressed in nude leather, her jacket fitted like armor, her long legs moving with a predator’s grace. Her dark eyes sweep the room, landing on Riley.

Riley feels the death glare sear into her, like ice and fire all at once. She looks away quickly, her heart hammering, and shrinks deeper into her chair. Her fists tighten.

Behind Kendra is her great-grandmother, a striking figure with her silver-white hair arranged in a tight, perfect donut at the crown of her head. She looks far younger than her years, her posture straight, her movements deliberate as she walks with the aid of an elegant cane. The tap of the cane on the marble floor is softer than Kendra’s footsteps but somehow more commanding. She reaches the front of the table, her presence filling the space.

“You can begin, Director,” the woman says, her voice calm but laced with steel.

The Director hesitates. For a fleeting moment, a shadow of unease flickers across his face. He clears his throat, straightens his posture. “Kendra, of the lineage of The Sages,” he begins carefully, his tone measured, “did you steal the Aruba?”

“No,” Kendra replies flatly, her gaze steady.

Riley is on her feet before she realizes it, her voice trembling with fury. “You’re lying! I saw you, Kendra.”

Kendra turns her head slowly, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. “You were spying on me?”

The words hit Riley like a slap. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Yes, she had been spying, but only because she knew Kendra couldn’t be trusted. She had been *right*. Hadn’t she?

“Yes, I took the Aruba,” Kendra says, her voice slicing through the tension. “But I didn’t steal it.”

The room holds its collective breath.

“The Aruba is a Sage family heirloom,” Kendra continues, her tone steady, her eyes flicking to the Director. “You can consult the magical scrolls if you like, though I doubt you’ll need to. It’s common knowledge.” Her voice hardens slightly, each word precise. “We allowed it to remain in the magical library for educational purposes. But we retrieved it for a family emergency.”

The Director’s fingers drum softly against the table, his expression unreadable. “There are processes for such things,” he says at last. “Breaking in and simply taking it isn’t one of them.”

“I didn’t break in,” Kendra says, her hand slicing through the air. “I walked in and—” she exhales sharply, her shoulders tensing. “Look, I apologize for the situation. But the emergency required immediate action. Surely, you understand, Director?”

The silence stretches unbearably. Riley surges forward again, her voice breaking the stillness like shattering glass. “But you gave it to our enemy! You’re lying. I *saw* you.”

“I didn’t give it to our enemy,” Kendra says, her tone unflinching. “It was for a family emergency.”

“You’re lying,” Riley spits, her hands trembling at her sides.

Kendra’s great-grandmother steps forward, her gaze pinning Riley in place. “I would advise you, Ms. Riley, not to throw around baseless claims,” she says, her voice sharp, cold.

The words settle heavily in Riley’s chest, a stone sinking deep. Her fists unclench as she sinks back into her chair, glaring at the polished table, unable—or unwilling—to meet the woman’s piercing gaze.

The great-grandmother straightens, her presence filling the room with an almost tangible force. “The Sages have been at the forefront of this war, Director,” she says, her voice unwavering. “To accuse us baselessly is not only irresponsible but an insult to our legacy. This ends now.”

Her tone shifts, from calm authority to firm command. “I expect a formal notice to clarify this situation and absolve my great-granddaughter of these accusations.”

Without waiting for a response, she pivots and addresses Kendra, her voice softening. “Let’s go, *Adani.*”

Kendra hesitates for a split second before following, her head slightly bowed. As they pass through the doors, she whispers, “Thank you, *Amani.*”

Her great-grandmother pauses just outside the threshold, turning her head slightly. Her expression remains unreadable, but her voice is softer, quieter. “I trust your judgment,” she says. “And I trust that whoever you gave the Aruba to is someone of good integrity.”

The words land like a stone in Kendra’s chest—heavy, binding, and yet oddly comforting. She opens her mouth, wanting to explain, to assure her great-grandmother of her intentions, but *Amani* doesn’t wait. She never does. She walks ahead, her cane tapping rhythmically against the floor, her posture as regal as ever.

Kendra watches her retreating figure, her jaw tightening. This wasn’t her first time standing before the Board of Magic, and she knows it won’t be her last. *Amani* had always stood by her, no matter what. Always unwavering in her belief, her trust. Even when the rest of the world turned against Kendra, *Amani* remained.

But doubt creeps into the corners of Kendra’s mind. Riley’s accusations still sting, their echoes lingering in the chamber even after the doors close behind her.

Because the truth is a dangerous thing.

The rumors were true. She had stolen the Aruba. She had given it to the enemy.

But she’d done it for the right reasons. For the greater good.

At least, that’s what she told herself.