Guinevere weaved between the columns of the Cloister, dodging students coming from the opposite direction. She had woken up late this morning, so late that she didn’t even have time to grab breakfast in Branwen Hall. I’m never drinking that much redgwin again. She woke up with a splitting headache, made all the worse when she glanced around her dorm room only to find that Mair and Alys had already left.

 

She had jumped out of bed quickly, which caused the room to spin around her. After steadying herself on one of her bedposts, she quickly threw on her gray robes. No time for a corset this morning. Those laces take forever. It took her a few minutes to locate her hat, which she eventually found crumpled underneath her bed. I hate drunk Gwen!

 

She threw her Oneirokinesis and Potions books into her leather satchel, dashed out of her dorm room, down the spiral staircase, and out into the cool autumn air. If she started running now, she thought, she could make it to the School of Psychic Arts just as class started. And so she took off, her right hand struggling to keep her hat on her head and her left arm steadying her heavy satchel.

 

The earlier classes had just been let out and the campus was full of witches. Traveling through the centrally located Cloister could be particularly difficult at moments like this. Guinevere made her best effort not to collide with other students as she moved swiftly through the crowd of students and columns.

 

She finally emerged into the greenery of Perl Commons, which was framed on its four sides by the Cloister, Beynon Library, the School of Alchemy, and the School of Psychic Arts. As she stepped out of the Cloister, Guinevere allowed herself a brief moment to appreciate the bright sunlight glimmering off the limestone of the towering Psychic Arts building. Then, remembering her lateness, she dashed across Perl Commons and through the large bronze doors.

 

Guinevere raced up the stairs and through the corridor until she stood outside Naegle Lecture Hall. She placed her right hand on the wall and took a moment to collect her breath. Then she stood up straight, placed her hand on the door handle, and pulled open one of the wooden doors.

 

Expecting to hear the dulcet tones of Professor Dryncaster’s lecturing, Guinevere was happy to register only the murmurs of her fellow students as she entered Naegle. She scanned the hall for her friends, searching for Mair’s fiery red hair and Alys’s long golden braids. Finally, she found them—much to her chagrin—towards the bottom of the lecture hall. She sighed and began descending the steps.

 

“Rough night, Grey?”

 

Guinevere kept her eyes forward as she walked down the steps, ignoring the flash of green to her right. The sound of muffled giggles followed her down the lecture hall. Eventually she came to where Mair and Alys were sitting.

 

Mair looked up at her, “Finally! We tried to wake you, you know.”

 

“You didn’t do a very good job,” Guinevere grumbled.

 

“You told us to ‘leave you alone’ and to ‘get the hell out’,” Alys noted.

 

“Sorry about that.”

 

“If I had a Duke’s son buying me unlimited redgwin,” Mair teased, “I’d have trouble waking up, too.”

 

“It was just two bottles,” said Guinevere, sitting down. “One bottle too many.”

 

“I know, we were there,” said Alys. Then she leaned in and whispered, “I barely got any studying in for today. I’m so nervous. Agrypnos is supposed to be especially difficult.”

 

Guinevere held her head in her hands. “I’m so screwed.”

 

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Professor Dryncaster clearing her throat. She stood behind the lectern, her long gray hair nearly touching the ground. Her mustard-yellow robes made Guinevere feel as if she were about to vomit.

 

“Good morning, my lovelies. Today should be an interesting class. Yes. I’m sure you all spent the better part of last night studying. Well, we’ll see how that went shortly. First, an announcement.” She paused to unroll a piece of parchment, then cleared her throat once more.

 

“The Dawns Mabon will begin tomorrow evening, at dusk, in Branwen Hall. Druicraeft students will be allowed onto campus thirty minutes prior.”

 

Eager murmurs broke out across the lecture hall. Even Guinevere felt a rush of excitement pierce through her hangover. The thought of seeing Trystan again, and so soon, helped to dull her headache, if only slightly.

 

“Faculty and staff members from both Weirhaven and Druicraeft will be patrolling the campus throughout the night and into the morning. Yes. Students are strongly encouraged to travel in groups. Professor Silverthorn would like to remind everyone that no Druicraeft students are allowed in Weirhaven dorms under any circumstances. No. Additionally, Weirhaven students are not permitted to leave campus.” Professor Dryncaster looked up from the parchment. “That includes visiting Druicraeft, my lovelies.”

 

Hushed giggles echoed through the hall. Professor Dryncaster rolled up the parchment with a wry smile.

 

“Okay, back to the important stuff. Yes. Today we will be practicing agrypnos—the ability to be awake even when the body is asleep, to be conscious even when the body is unconscious. Today’s goal is not mastery. No. Some witches—aye, even some acclaimed psionics—never truly master agrypnos.

 

“Today’s goal is merely to expose you to the art. To give you a sense of the depths of oneirokinesis you will explore during your time at Weirhaven. And perhaps…” Professor Dryncaster paused for dramatic effect, “…to learn whom among you are particularly gifted.”

 

Any excitement that had passed through Guinevere’s body was now gone. It was instead replaced with a simmering anxiety. Judging from the hush that fell over the lecture hall, she guessed she wasn’t the only one.

 

Professor Dryncaster must have sensed it too, because she let out a small laugh and said, “No need to be nervous, my lovelies. We’re all here to learn. That being said, do I have any volunteers for our first round? I’ll need about six of you at a time,” she gestured to six leather chairs arranged in a circle next to her lectern. In the middle of the chairs sat a small stone altar, circular in shape. Guinevere could see something sitting on top of the altar, but she couldn’t quite make out what it was.

 

After waiting a couple seconds for students to volunteer (no one did), Professor Dryncaster turned to another piece of parchment on her lectern, put her finger on it, and began reading names.

 

“Okay then. Yes. I’ll have the following students come down: Alys Merwin, Cadi Fflur, Betrys Lush, Lunys Price, Nerys Price, and Guinevere Grey.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Guinevere groaned.

 

Alys didn’t look much happier. Guinevere saw the color drain from her face as she stood up slowly. Guinevere stood up too and gently patted her on the back. “It’ll be alright. I’ll be terrible with you.”

 

Betrys passed them in her descent before Guinevere and Alys could even step out. She gave them a wink as she passed by, her green braids bouncing as she took each step.

 

“I fucking hate her!” Guinevere whispered.

 

“I know,” said Alys.

 

The pair descended the stairs together and walked down to where the chairs were. The each took a seat. Just behind them was Cadi Fflur, Betrys’s pixie-like companion, who sat to Guinevere’s left. Lunys and Nerys Price followed after. The identical twins had matching shoulder-length black hair and dark purple robes. After the Price girls had sat down, Professor Dryncaster began her lecture.

 

“There are many cases in which a witch might be placed under an enchanted sleep, whether by a sleep spell or some sort of potion. Now, in many of these cases, the witch might be rendered unconscious without warning. Yes. Unfortunately, there are not many solutions to such a conundrum, unless you are a particularly advanced psionic.

 

“But what if you did have some sort of warning? What if you saw someone raise their wand and point it at your face? What if you knew the next word out of their mouth would be somneron? And what if you didn’t have your wand ready? Is your situation hopeless?

 

“Of course not! No. This is where agrypnos comes into play. You must quickly gather your wits, relax your body, pretend as if you are already dreaming, and utter the incantation ‘agrypnos’. With the proper technique—and, at your level of education, a fair bit of luck—you will find that your astral body separates from your physical body; your physical body is rendered unconscious, but your astral body remains awake. With a good deal of practice, your astral body can even influence the physical world.

 

“In the middle of your chairs is a stone altar. Yes. On that altar is a single white feather from an ayrderyn. Now, assuming any of you manage to successfully enter a state of agrypnos, I would like you to try to move the feather off the altar. Don’t be fooled, it will be challenging. For the novice psionic, your body will feel like it weighs five times what it does when you’re awake. This is completely natural at your level. All I ask is that you do your best.”

 

Guinevere and Alys exchanged nervous glances. Betrys sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. Guinevere could feel Betrys’s eyes on her, but she didn’t give Betrys the satisfaction of looking at her.

 

“Okay, prepare yourself, my lovelies. Ms. Lush, we’ll start with you first.”

 

Guinevere glanced over. Betrys sat up straight now, both of her hands on the armrests of her chair. Professor Dryncaster brandished her wand and pointed it straight at Betrys’s forehead.

 

“Agrypnos!”

 

“Somneron.”

 

In an instant, Betrys collapsed back into the chair, unconscious. Guinevere couldn’t help but notice how much less evil she looked when she was asleep. Her mouth hung open slightly in her slumber, and if she had successfully pulled off agrypnos, there was no way to tell from the limp body that lay in her chair.

 

“Now, remember students. You don’t want to scream the incantation. You don’t want the bad actor to know that you’ve attempted agrypnos. If they’re skilled, they’ll just place you into a dreamlock. No. You want to do your best to whisper it. Okay, now Ms. Price. Er, excuse me, Lunys Price. Your turn.”

 

And so Professor Dryncaster went one by one, placing Lunys, Nerys, and Cadi into an enchanted sleep. Then it was Guinevere’s turn.

“Okay, Ms. Grey. Ready?”

 

“Yes, Professor.”

 

Guinevere tried to remember the instructions. Relax your body. Instead of sitting up straight, Guinevere sat back in the chair. Pretend as if you’re dreaming. This one was harder. What does that mean? Pretend you’re dreaming?

Professor Dryncaster raised her wand.

 

Guinevere thought back to the dream she had last night. Her and Trystan. Her hand in his. The castle gardens. The sunlight on his face, reflected in his deep blue eyes. His smiled as he leaned down. His face to close to hers.

 

Guinevere closed her eyes and whispered, “Agrypnos.”

“Somneron.”

 

Guinevere continued to sit back in her chair, waiting for the spell to affect her. After a few moments, she opened her eyes. Professor Dryncaster was no longer in front of her. She turned her head to her right, or, tried to turn her head to her right. Her head felt so heavy; her movement so slow. Eventually she was able to look over. Professor Dryncaster stood across from where Alys sat.

 

“Ready, Ms. Merwin?”

 

“Yes, professor.”

 

Despite the fact that Professor Dryncaster and Alys were only a few feet away from Guinevere, their voices sounded like they were whispering to each other on the complete opposite side of the lecture hall.

 

“Somneron.”

 

Alys had also been sitting back in her chair, and when Professor Dryncaster cast the spell Alys’s head merely nodded forward as she fell asleep. If Alys had said the incantation, Guinevere didn’t hear it.

 

The spell didn’t work on me. Strange. Guinevere tried to raise her right hand to the get the professor’s attention, but her arm felt incredibly heavy too, as if there were large stones hidden up the sleeves of her gray robes.

 

After straining for a bit, Guinevere finally felt her arm begin to budge. What happened next nearly made her scream. From her right arm emerged another arm, although this new arm had no sleeve on it.

 

Guinevere slowly turned her head to her left and tried to lift her left arm. After straining for a bit, a second left arm gradually emerged from her first. Guinevere was now a four-armed monster—two robed arms rested on the arm rests of the chair with two bare arms hovering above them.

 

It was only then that Guinevere processed what was happening. I fucking did it! The two bare arms were part of her astral body. That’s why they’re so hard to move.

 

Guinevere took a moment to celebrate. She had successfully pulled off agrypnos on her first attempt. She giggled to herself. Even her own laughter sounded like it was coming from far away.

 

After her brief celebration, she remembered the task Professor Dryncaster had given the group: move the white feather. She placed her new arms on her arm rests and pushed as hard as she could. It was a struggle. The effort it took to move her body out of the chair was enormous. She gritted her teeth and pushed as hard as she could. Inch by inch, she moved towards the edge of the chair. Just a little more…

 

She gave one last push and fell out of the chair and onto the floor. It was a bizarre feeling—she would have expected the fall to hurt, but all she really felt was the pressure of her body on the floor. The real shock came when looked at her body and realized she was completely nude.

 

I guess astral bodies don’t come with clothes. She glanced back towards her chair. There she was, lying back in the chair. Eyes closed, mouth open, a bit of drool dribbling out. How embarrassing!

 

She turned away from her sleeping body and faced back towards the prize: the white feather on the stone altar. It was only about six feet away. How hard can it be? She was about to find out.

 

Guinevere began the seemingly short journey crawling on her knees and elbows. She felt so heavy, like there was someone lying on her back. It took her about ten second to crawl a single foot. With the effort she was expending, it felt like she should be breathing heavily. Then it occurred to her that she wasn’t breathing at all.

 

In the meantime, Professor Dryncaster, who was standing near the altar, turned her head and looked in the exact spot where Guinevere was crawling. She must be able to sense my presence. Guinevere sincerely hoped the professor’s abilities only went as far as sensing, and that she couldn’t actually see her naked body crawling along the lecture hall floor.

 

It took Guinevere about a minute to crawl the six feet to the altar, her astral tits rubbing against the floor the entire way. Getting into an upright position would be another thing entirely. She contemplated a few different options before settling on an approach. She would try to wrap her arms around the altar and use it as leverage to get into a kneeling position; Guinevere didn’t think standing up all the way was an option, but kneeling should grant her the height necessary to reach for the feather.

 

She reached her arms around the stone, interlocked her fingers, and pulled the rest of her body closer to altar. Then she went to work trying to get her legs to catch up the rest of her body. It took her about a minute before she got her knees underneath her. Then it was just a matter of pulling herself up. In theory, not so difficult. In practice, it was a laborious process.

 

After another minute of pulling, her eyes were level with the top of the altar. She glimpsed the small white feather that sat on top. She felt herself fading fast, and, in an attempt to save the effort of raising one of her hands, she tried to simply blow the feather off the altar, but quickly realized that whatever wind she was blowing in her astral state had no effect on the physical world.

 

I’m so close. I can do it. She drew upon the last bit of energy she had in order to raise her right hand onto the altar. Once she raised it high enough to clear the top, she let it fall limply next on top of the feather. Then she wrapped her fingers around the feather and pushed.

 

It didn’t move. The feather felt like it was made of iron. It was the heaviest fucking feather Guinevere had ever felt in her life. She was growing more tired by the second. If it was going to happen, it had to happen now.

 

Guinevere summoned all her remaining strength, screamed into the astral abyss, and pushed against the white feather. Inch by inch, Guinevere pushed the feather at a glacial pace. She heard far-off murmurs. The feather was close to the edge of the altar now. All it would take was one… last… push…

 

Then Guinevere collapsed to the floor and unconsciousness took her.

 

***

 

Cadi Fflur slept on her bed in her dorm room. Eira Cambria stood above her, grasping a small piece of charcoal. As Cadi slept, Eira pressed the charcoal to Cadi’s cheeks, drawing small straight lines across both sides of her face. When Eira was done, it looked like Cadi had whiskers. A small smile stretched across Eira’s face.

 

“That’s your idea of fun?” Betrys moaned.

 

It was nearing midnight and the three girls had shed their robes and corsets long ago; they hung out just in their linen chemises now.

 

“What?” asked Eira in her classic monotone. “You had something else in mind?”

“Something better than that. This is supposed to be fun!”

 

“That’s your problem. You’re too worried about having fun. Maybe if you just tried to study the old-fashioned way, Guinevere Grey wouldn’t have beaten you to the feather this morning.”

 

“I don’t know how she did that,” said Betrys, seemingly deep in thought. “Dilys just knocked me out. I didn’t even have a chance.”

 

“It was the same with Cadi here. And the Price twins. Of course, Alys Merwin claimed that she remained conscious but just couldn’t move.”

 

“Of course the giantess said that. Can’t act like she was just snoozing with the rest of us.”

 

Just then, Cadi began to stir.

 

“The sleeping princess wakes up!” Betrys exclaimed. “Okay, quiz time. What did we do while you were asleep?”

 

Cadi rubbed her head. “I have no idea. It didn’t work.”

 

“You’re not improving at all,” Eira observed.

 

“Eira drew on your face.”

 

“Aww, what?!” Cadi jumped up and ran over to the mirror. “Eira!”

 

“I think it compliments your pixie cut,” Eira noted while sitting down on her bed. “You look positively feline.”

 

“This is going to take forever to get off!”

 

As the two went back and forth, Betrys grabbed her wand from her nightstand. She held it behind her back as she strode over to where Eira sat. When Betrys was directly across from her, she flung her wand around and pointed it at her face.

 

“Your turn, Eira!”

 

Eira’s eyes widened. “What? Hold on!”

 

“Get ready!”

 

Eira held her hands up. “Wait a second!”

 

“No!” Betrys grinned.

 

Eira shut her eyes and whispered, “Agrypnos!”

 

“Somneron.”

 

Eira fell limply back onto her bed, her long black hair covering her face.

 

“Good job!” Cadi exclaimed. “We need to get her back! What’re you thinking?”

 

Betrys smirked. “Well, we need to do something memorable. Something that she would surely remember if her agrypnos worked.”

 

“Oh! I know!” said Cadi, “Let’s draw on her tits!”

 

“Wow, Cadi, you’re a better psionic than I thought. You just read my mind.”

 

Betrys knelt over Eira’s sleeping body and brushed her long black hair out of her face. She looked peaceful like this, although Betrys noted that Eira pretty much always looked peaceful. Her not looking stoic would be out of the ordinary.

 

She reached her hand over and pulled at the top of Eira’s chemise until her small pale tits popped out.

 

“Would you look at that,” Betrys whispered.

 

“They’re smaller than I thought,” said Cadi. “I guess I’ve never really seen them before.”

 

“Me neither. Grab the charcoal.”

 

When Cadi returned with the charcoal, she got to work on Eira’s boobs. The dark charcoal made an excellent contrast with Eira’s pale skin. In large capital letters Cadi wrote “SMILE” above her Eira’s tits, then drew small circles around Eira’s pink nipples and a large crescent shape underneath, making her nipples look like the eyes of a smiley face.

 

“You’re an artist, Cadi.”

 

“Thank you!” said Cadi, genuinely. “Okay, should we wake her up now?”

 

“You don’t think we should have a bit more fun first?”

 

“Like what?” asked Cadi.

 

“I don’t know,” Betrys grinned. “Something even more memorable?”

 

“I’m not sure what could be more memorable than this.”

 

“You know what, nevermind,” said Betrys, grabbing her wand off Eira’s bed. Betrys raised her wand and pointed it at the back of Cadi’s head.

 

“Somneron.”

 

Cadi fell face forward onto Eira’s tits. The bottom of Cadi’s ass stuck out from underneath her chemise.

 

“Sorry, Cadi, but I don’t think your innocent mind can’t handle what I’ve got planned.”

 

Betrys walked over to her nightstand and pulled open one of the drawers.

 

“And sorry, Eira, but I think your incantation was a little too rushed,” she pulled out a long wooden dildo. “I don’t think you’ve mastered agrypnos quite yet.”

 

“Don’t worry though,” Betrys said, turning back to her sleeping friends. “There’s always tomorrow.”