Amr descended the same stairs he had climbed earlier, his boots echoing faintly against the stone steps. Reaching the bottom, he crossed the hallway and began ascending the staircase on the opposite side. These stairs were different, lined with large windows at every landing, flooding the space with natural light.

As he climbed, Amr paused at the third-floor landing. Through the windows, he could see students battling one-on-one in the training field below. He leaned against the railing, observing their techniques with a critical eye.

“Seriously? That’s the best they’ve got?” he thought, a smirk creeping across his face. “Their footwork is sloppy, their stances are all over the place... I could take them all down blindfolded.”

Shaking his head, Amr moved on. He pushed open the door connecting the staircase to the third floor, stepping into a long hallway. Standing in the middle, as if expecting him, was Lady Hera.

“Sorry for being late, Lady Hera,” Amr said, despite knowing he wasn’t late at all.

Lady Hera’s calm voice was almost soothing. “You’re not late, Amr. You’re right on time.” She gestured toward a nearby door labeled THE CURSE LAB. “Come with me.”

Amr followed her inside, squinting as the room’s blinding sunlight hit his eyes. Large windows facing the sun made the space brighter than the outdoors. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust.

The room itself was unsettling. Strange objects were scattered about—skulls with runes carved into them, ancient-looking scripts scrawled in what resembled dried blood. In the far right corner was the door they’d entered through. The centerpiece of the room, however, was a peculiar chair in the middle. It resembled something from a dentist’s office but with added elements—thicker padding, armrests adorned with runes, and straps that hinted at its sinister purpose. The chair faced the glaring windows, creating an almost ceremonial aura.

Narrator: The chair, while resembling a dentist's, was designed for darker purposes. It was where curses were applied, analyzed, or removed. A curse master—a specialist in all things cursed—conducted their work here, ranging from identifying curses to performing complex rituals.

As Amr adjusted to the light, a figure stepped forward from the glare—a hunched old woman with a large, hooked nose and a face that might have scared even the bravest warriors. Her presence was as unsettling as the objects around her.

Amr felt an immediate dislike for her, though he kept his expression neutral.

Lady Hera smiled warmly. “Amr, this is Lady Nani, our school’s curse master.”

Lady Nani’s sharp eyes sparkled with curiosity as she studied him. “Ah, so this is the boy you spoke of. Interesting… very interesting.” Her voice was raspy but carried an energy that belied her age. She squinted at Amr, then chuckled. “I don’t even need to examine him to know he’s unique. It’s written all over his face.”

Amr shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond.

“Take a seat, boy,” Lady Nani said, gesturing to the ominous chair. “We’ll get started.”