The night had fallen over Ebonspire, casting the academy in a shroud of deep indigo. A light fog curled around the ancient stone walls, creeping through the narrow corridors and darkened corners like a silent predator. The moon hung high, its silver light spilling over the grounds, bathing the grand towers in a cold, pale glow. The stars twinkled faintly, their light distant and indifferent to the mysteries hidden below.
Cyrus moved through the academy's shadowy halls, his steps silent and precise, as he made his way to the gardens. He had received the summons in the form of a slip of black parchment, delivered to his quarters by a messenger raven earlier that evening. The note had simply read, "The gardens. Midnight."
His instincts told him this was no ordinary meeting. The Crow's End had eyes everywhere, and they were always watching. Even now, deep within the academy's walls, he could feel the weight of their presence—always lurking, always waiting.
As he stepped into the gardens, the scent of damp earth and night-blooming flowers filled the air. The garden itself was an eerie place after dark. What had been a beautiful sanctuary during the day was now transformed into a place of shadows and secrets. The trees seemed taller, their branches twisting in unnatural ways, and the statues that dotted the pathways were more like silent sentinels, watching, judging.
The air was thick with the sound of rustling leaves, though there was no wind. Cyrus scanned the area, his senses sharp, before his eyes fell on a dark shape perched on a twisted, ancient tree. The crow—black as the void—sat silently, its eyes gleaming like burning coals in the moonlight.
Cyrus stepped closer, and the crow's head tilted slightly, regarding him with an almost human intensity. He knew this was no ordinary crow. This was a conduit, a messenger, for the Master of Shadows.
Without warning, the crow spoke, but it was not the caw of a bird. Instead, the voice that emerged was deep, hollow, and familiar—a voice that sent a chill through Cyrus's bones.
"Cyrus,"** the voice said, the crow's beak barely moving. "How fares the mission?"
It was Kael, the Warden of Shadows, one of the four Ravens of the Crow's End. Cyrus had been expecting this, but the eerie disembodied voice still unsettled him. He stepped closer, keeping his voice low as he spoke.
"The mission is proceeding," Cyrus said, his tone as calm as the night around him. "I've gained the trust of the academy. I've kept my power hidden, as instructed. But..."
The crow's head cocked, waiting for him to continue.
"There's something happening within the dungeons," Cyrus said, his voice barely a whisper. "The fire ogre on Level 1—it was far too powerful for that level. I suspect someone tampered with the enchantments. Magnus himself hinted at the possibility of a larger scheme, though he hasn't revealed much."
For a moment, there was only silence. The crow's eyes burned brighter as Kael's voice returned, this time with a sharper edge.
"Someone tampered with the enchantments?" Kael mused, the words heavy with suspicion. "Interesting. And Magnus… how much does he know?"
"Not much, I think," Cyrus replied. "He's suspicious, but he doesn't know who or why." He hesitated, then added, "There's more. Someone, or something, may be setting traps within the dungeon. This goes deeper than just the academy. I fear there may be another force at play."
Kael's silence stretched for a long moment, the tension between them thickening. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, darker.
"The Monarch Abyss."
Cyrus's brow furrowed. The Monarch Abyss—Crow's End's most bitter rivals. A dark guild as ruthless and secretive as Crow's End, their methods equally brutal. They were known for their infiltration tactics, slipping their agents into positions of power and influence, leaving chaos and ruin in their wake.
"You think they've sent someone?" Cyrus asked, his voice tense.
"It's possible," Kael replied. "The Monarch Abyss has long sought the same artifact we are after. They've coveted it for years. If they've learned of its location, it's likely they've sent their own spy to Ebonspire, just as we have sent you."
The crow's eyes flickered in the moonlight, the glow of their intensity like twin embers. "They may already be ahead of us, Cyrus. The ogre's enchantment could have been their doing, a test to see who is strong enough to survive the dungeon. Be wary of everyone. This academy is a battlefield now, though none but you and their agent may know it."
Cyrus remained still, the weight of Kael's words pressing heavily on his mind. A rival agent? He had expected obstacles, but the thought of facing off against a spy from Monarch Abyss made the mission far more dangerous than he had anticipated.
"You're certain they're after the same artifact?" Cyrus asked, his voice steady.
"We can't be certain," Kael replied, his tone cold and calculating. "But it would be foolish to assume otherwise. The Monarch Abyss has always coveted power, and that artifact is a key to unimaginable strength. You must remain in the shadows, Cyrus. Stay vigilant. Do not let these... distractions weaken your resolve."
Cyrus felt the weight of those words sink into him. "Distractions." He knew what Kael meant. The academy, the students, even the fleeting moments of peace—these were things that could soften him, make him weak. And weakness was not tolerated by Crow's End.
Kael's voice grew darker, a warning woven into his tone. "Remember why you are there. You are not one of them. Do not be swayed by their dreams of honor, of friendship. They will only lead you astray. Stay loyal to the shadows. Stay loyal to the Crow's End."
Cyrus's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. "I won't forget."
The crow's eyes dimmed slightly, as if the connection was beginning to wane. But before the conversation ended, Kael's voice echoed one final time, low and menacing.
"The moment you let your guard down, you will fall. Stay hidden, Cyrus. Stay vigilant. The shadows are where you belong."
With that, the crow blinked once, then spread its dark wings and took off into the night, disappearing into the thick fog that swirled around the academy grounds.
Cyrus stood alone in the eerie stillness of the garden, his mind racing. The conversation with Kael had unsettled him in a way he hadn't expected. There was always darkness in the missions from Crow's End, but this was different. The thought of another spy, of a rival agent from the Monarch Abyss, made the academy feel even more dangerous.
He looked up at the pale moon hanging high in the sky, casting its cold light over the ancient trees and shadowy pathways. The beauty of Ebonspire was undeniable, but beneath it, there was darkness. Secrets. And Cyrus knew that in order to survive, he would have to stay in the shadows longer than ever before.
As he turned to leave the garden, his mind shifted to Magnus, to the warmth he had felt in the old wizard's presence. For a fleeting moment, the academy had felt like something more than a mission. But Kael's words echoed in his ears.
"Do not let yourself be weakened by their false dreams."
The words Kael had left him with, "Do not let yourself be weakened by their false dreams," still echoed in Cyrus's mind as the crow vanished into the night sky, its wings blending seamlessly with the darkness. Cyrus stood still for a moment, his eyes drifting upward, staring at the countless stars scattered across the heavens. They twinkled faintly, indifferent to the shadows that lurked below. He took a deep breath, trying to shake the unease left behind by the encounter, but the weight of his mission pressed heavily on his chest.
"Pretty things, aren't they?"
The sudden voice startled him, and Cyrus instinctively shifted his stance, ready to respond to a threat. His eyes narrowed as he turned, only to find Siera standing there, her silver hair shimmering faintly in the moonlight. She was gazing up at the stars just as he had been, her violet eyes distant and contemplative.
"How long have you been standing there?" Cyrus asked, his voice calm but guarded. He hadn't sensed her approach—an unusual thing, given his heightened awareness.
Siera's lips curved into a playful smile as she tore her gaze from the sky and looked at him. "Not long, just got here actually." Her tone was light, almost teasing, as if they were simply two friends sharing a quiet evening. There was a certain ease in the way she carried herself, but Cyrus knew better than to trust appearances.
"You've recovered from your injuries?" he asked, his eyes flickering over her frame. He remembered her taking a few hits in the dungeon, but now she looked untouched, as if the battle hadn't even fazed her.
Siera shrugged nonchalantly, tilting her head slightly as she considered his question. "I wasn't banged up that bad," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "The others got the worst of it, if we're being honest."
As she spoke, she began whistling softly, a haunting yet melodic tune that seemed to hang in the cool night air. The notes were delicate, weaving through the silence between them. It was almost hypnotic, and for a moment, Cyrus found himself wondering if there was magic hidden in that melody. The thought only made him more suspicious, though he didn't show it.
"Good," he replied, his tone even, though his thoughts were anything but. He couldn't afford complications—not now, not after what Kael had warned him about. Siera was unpredictable, and her presence here, so late at night, felt too deliberate.
Her violet eyes gleamed mischievously as she glanced at him, still whistling her tune. "It's funny," she said, a smile dancing on her lips, "we always seem to meet like this. In the quiet moments, after the sun's gone down. Almost feels like fate, doesn't it?"
Cyrus remained silent, unsure how to respond. His mind was still occupied with thoughts of the Crow's End and the mysterious rival guild, Monarch Abyss. Could Siera be connected? Her presence was too convenient, too... timely. He studied her face, searching for any hint of deception, but Siera was an enigma, always hiding behind that playful demeanor.
She took a step closer, her movements smooth and graceful, until she was standing just inches from him. Her violet eyes locked onto his, and for a brief moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the garden, the academy, even the stars above. Cyrus's heart raced, though whether it was from suspicion or something else, he couldn't tell.
"We should get going before we get into trouble," Siera whispered, her lips dangerously close to his. Her breath was warm against his skin, sending a strange shiver down his spine. There was something unsettling about how close she was, her presence intoxicating and yet laced with danger. She seemed to enjoy walking that thin line between teasing and manipulation.
Before Cyrus could respond, Siera turned with a flick of her silver hair and started walking back toward the academy's hallways, her steps light and confident. "Come on," she called over her shoulder, her tone playful again, as if nothing had just happened.
Cyrus watched her disappear into the shadows of the hallway, his mind churning with suspicion. His instincts told him not to trust her, but he couldn't deny that there was something compelling about her. Her mysterious nature, her confidence—it all made him wonder if she was hiding something far more dangerous than just playful mischief.
As he stood there alone in the garden, his thoughts darkened. Could she be from the Monarch Abyss? The question gnawed at him, twisting in his mind like a serpent. Everything about her was too convenient, too perfect. She moved through the academy like she owned the night, appearing and disappearing at will. Her abilities were advanced for someone of her age, and she had an aura of power that she kept carefully concealed. And then there was the way she kept running into him, always at night, always when he was vulnerable.
Cyrus narrowed his eyes as he thought back to Kael's words: "Stay hidden. Trust no one."
Was this what Kael had meant by distractions? Was Siera a trap, meant to lure him into letting his guard down? Cyrus clenched his fists, trying to keep his thoughts focused. He had spent years in the shadows, honing his instincts, and something about Siera set off alarms deep within him. But he couldn't act hastily. He had to stay cautious, stay sharp.
He let out a slow breath, his gaze drifting back up to the stars. They were still there, shining faintly against the vast darkness of the sky, indifferent to the schemes and plots of those below. "Pretty things," he muttered to himself, but there was no warmth in his words.
Cyrus took one last look around the garden, scanning the shadows for any sign of the crow or other hidden eyes. Finding none, he turned and made his way back toward the academy, his mind filled with a thousand questions. But one thing was certain—he would have to keep a close eye on Siera.
The dark corridors of Ebonspire Academy seemed to breathe with their own life as Cyrus made his way toward the nursing hall. The halls were dimly lit by flickering torchlight, casting long, eerie shadows on the stone walls. It was well past curfew, and every step felt heavier under the weight of the academy's silent rules, yet Cyrus moved like a ghost, his years of training with Crow's End guiding his every motion.
He wasn't supposed to be there. Not at this hour, and certainly not for this reason. He should have been returning to his dorm, disappearing into the shadows as usual, keeping his distance from the rest. But something gnawed at him—a strange, unfamiliar urge to check on Teef, Dale, Layla, and Thalon. The people he had fought alongside in the dungeon, the ones who had nearly lost their lives.
It wasn't part of his mission. And yet, here he was, creeping toward the nursing hall, compelled by a feeling he couldn't fully explain.
He reached the door and eased it open, slipping inside silently. The room was dimly lit by a single lantern hanging near the far wall, its golden glow soft and soothing. The faint scent of herbs and healing potions filled the air, and the rhythmic breathing of the students lying in the beds was the only sound that broke the stillness.
Cyrus moved like a shadow, making his way to the beds where Teef, Dale, Layla, and Thalon were resting. All but Siera. She had recovered quickly and had already left. He didn't quite know why her absence unsettled him more than the sight of the others lying there.
Teef was the first to stir as Cyrus approached, his yellow eyes blinking open in the dim light. He looked groggy but managed a weak smile when he saw Cyrus.
"Cyrus... you shouldn't be here," Teef whispered, his voice low but tinged with gratitude. "We don't wanna get you in trouble, mate."
Cyrus said nothing at first, just nodding as he looked over each of them. Dale was snoring softly, his cowboy hat pulled low over his face, though the bruises and cuts from the battle were still visible on his arms. Thalon lay in the bed next to him, his ankle bandaged and propped up, a pained but peaceful expression on his face. Layla was awake, her head turned slightly to the side, watching Cyrus with those deep, thoughtful eyes.
"I'm not here for long," Cyrus whispered back, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. "I just... wanted to check on you all."
Teef raised an eyebrow, surprised by Cyrus's words. "You? Check on us?" He chuckled softly, careful not to make too much noise. "Didn't think that was your style, Cyrus."
"Yeah, well..." Cyrus started, but he didn't know how to finish the sentence. He wasn't sure what to say. The truth was, he didn't know why he was there. He had spent so long in the shadows, so long keeping to himself, that the idea of actually caring for others seemed foreign. And yet, here he was.
Layla shifted slightly in her bed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Cyrus."
Cyrus's eyes flicked toward her, unsure how to react. Gratitude was not something he was accustomed to receiving. Not in the way she said it. There was no expectation in her voice, no hidden agenda. Just... sincerity.
"You saved our lives down there," Layla continued, her gaze unwavering. "We wouldn't have made it out of that dungeon without you."
"She's right," Teef added, nodding his head. "You were the only reason we stood a chance against that ogre."
Dale stirred in his sleep, muttering something incoherent before turning onto his side. Thalon, too, remained unconscious, but even in his sleep, he looked more at peace than Cyrus had ever seen him.
Cyrus shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't do it for thanks," he muttered, trying to deflect the attention. "I did what had to be done."
Layla smiled softly. "You always say that."
"Because it's true," Cyrus replied, though even as the words left his mouth, he wasn't sure he believed them. The mission, the shadows—that's what he was trained to care about. That's all that should have mattered. But something had shifted in him. He didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but the fact that they were okay—that they had survived—meant something.
Teef's voice broke through the quiet. "Whether you did it for thanks or not, you've earned it."
Cyrus didn't respond, but he gave a slight nod, his eyes scanning the room once more. The soft light from the lantern cast gentle shadows on the faces of the people who had become something he wasn't prepared for—people who trusted him, people who believed in him.
Layla's eyes flickered with a soft warmth. "You don't have to hide it, you know," she whispered. "There's more to you than you let on."
Cyrus felt a small knot form in his chest. He had always been careful, always cautious. The academy was nothing more than a mission, a place where he was supposed to blend in and uncover the secrets hidden within. But now, standing there in the dim light of the nursing hall, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.
Before he could say anything, the door creaked slightly, and Cyrus's body tensed. He glanced at Teef and Layla, motioning for them to keep quiet. They understood immediately, falling silent as Cyrus melted into the shadows of the room.
A nurse stepped in, her gaze scanning the room briefly before she moved toward the far side to check on another patient. Cyrus remained still, his heart pounding in his chest, though his training kept his breath steady.
Once the nurse finished her check and left the room, Cyrus stepped out from the shadows, his face unreadable.
"You should go," Layla whispered softly, though there was no urgency in her tone. "You don't want to get caught."
Cyrus nodded slowly, casting one last glance at each of them. "Get some rest," he said, his voice low but sincere. "We've got more battles ahead of us."
Teef gave a weak thumbs-up, his grin returning. "We'll be ready, mate. Thanks again, Cyrus."
Cyrus turned and slipped out of the nursing hall, the door closing silently behind him. As he walked through the darkened corridors of the academy, the weight in his chest only seemed to grow. The shadows felt heavier than before, and for the first time, Cyrus wasn't sure if it was the mission or the people he was trying to protect that weighed more on his mind.
Whatever it was, he couldn't shake the feeling that things were shifting—and that he was no longer in complete control.
The corridors of Ebonspire were hauntingly silent as Cyrus made his way back to his dorm, his body moving swiftly and silently as it always did. His mind, however, was not as focused as usual. The thoughts of his encounter in the nursing hall still lingered, leaving him unsettled. The gratitude from his companions, the quiet warmth in their voices—it was foreign to him, unsettling in ways he couldn't explain. He had been trained to ignore such sentiments, to push them aside and focus solely on the mission. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had crossed some invisible line tonight.
Just as he rounded the corner toward his dorm, Cyrus froze in his tracks.
"Cyrus," a calm voice called from behind, startling him. "You startled me, what are you doing out this late from your room?"
Cyrus slowly turned around to face Thaddeus, the stern yet regal professor who had been keeping an eye on him ever since the events in the dungeon. Thaddeus stood tall, his sharp eyes glinting in the dim light of the hallway, the dark purple robes of his station brushing the stone floor as he approached.
Cyrus's mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse, but no words came. He had no reason to be out this late, and Thaddeus could see through any lie he might offer. Instead, he remained silent, his face expressionless, his body tense.
Thaddeus raised an eyebrow, studying Cyrus for a long moment. "Well, quiet aren't you?" He tilted his head slightly, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Come with me, child."
Without waiting for a response, Thaddeus turned on his heel and began walking down the hallway, his footsteps light but purposeful. Cyrus hesitated for only a second before following behind, his mind still swirling with thoughts of what this might mean. Was he in trouble? Was Thaddeus aware of what he was up to?
As they walked through the darkened halls, the silence between them stretched on, but Cyrus knew better than to ask questions. Thaddeus was a man who spoke when it suited him, and right now, Cyrus had no choice but to listen.
Finally, after a few minutes of walking, Thaddeus slowed his pace, casting a glance over his shoulder to ensure Cyrus was still following. "You're a member of the House of Tenebrae," he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made Cyrus's heart quicken. "Do you know what that truly means, Cyrus?"
Cyrus said nothing, his eyes focused on the professor as he waited for him to continue.
"The House of Tenebrae was born from the shadows," Thaddeus began, his voice calm yet resonant. "Not just shadows of darkness, but of balance. A place where both the light and dark coexist, though not in harmony. It is a house of power, but that power comes at a price."
As they continued to walk, Thaddeus's voice became more solemn, more reflective. "It is said that to master the power of Tenebrae is to understand both good and evil, light and shadow. The duality of magic is strong, Cyrus, and it requires more than just raw talent. It requires willpower and heart."
They walked past grand, intricate paintings of ancient wizards and witches, their names glowing softly beneath their portraits. Thaddeus's gaze briefly flickered to one of the paintings, his expression unreadable.
"But few—if any—have ever truly mastered it," Thaddeus continued, his tone growing more serious. "Most who walk the path of Tenebrae fall into the abyss, consumed by the very shadows they sought to control. The darkness is... alluring. It offers power, but it can strip you of your humanity. Of your soul."
Cyrus felt a shiver crawl up his spine as Thaddeus spoke. He had seen what the darkness could do. He had been raised in the shadows, molded by them, but what Thaddeus described was something more—something deeper. Crow's End had taught him to embrace the dark, to make it his ally, but this was a warning.
"I see something in you," Thaddeus said, turning to face him as they walked. His eyes were sharp, piercing through the dim light. "A potential. But that potential comes with danger. You must learn to walk the line between light and shadow. To wield both without succumbing to either."
Cyrus felt his heart tighten in his chest. It was as if Thaddeus could see into his very soul, reading the internal struggle that had been brewing within him ever since he arrived at the academy. The mission. The friendships. The shadows. All of it was pulling him in different directions, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could maintain his balance.
Thaddeus's gaze softened slightly, though his voice remained firm. "You've done well so far, Cyrus. But be careful. The path you walk is dangerous, and few have ever come out unscathed. The shadows... can be unforgiving."
They finally reached the entrance to the dormitory, the dark wooden door looming before them. Thaddeus turned to face Cyrus fully, his expression stern but not unkind.
"You shouldn't be wandering the halls at night, especially after what you've been through in the dungeon." His voice was scolding, but there was a hint of something warmer beneath it. "Even the strongest of us need rest. You will do well to remember that."
Cyrus nodded, not daring to argue. He had pushed his luck enough for one night.
Thaddeus gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before gesturing to the door. "Go on now, get some sleep. The shadows will still be there in the morning."
Cyrus hesitated for only a moment before slipping through the door and into the dimly lit dormitory. As the door closed softly behind him, he felt a strange mix of relief and unease settle over him. Thaddeus's words lingered in his mind, heavy with meaning.
"The darkness is alluring."
Cyrus stared at the shadowy room before him, his heart pounding softly in his chest. He had walked in darkness his whole life, but tonight, for the first time, he wasn't sure if he could control it.