Chapter 30 - Chapter 29: Infatuation

Cyrus slipped quietly into the dimly lit Tenebrae dormitory, his footsteps soft against the worn floorboards. The events of the day still weighed heavily on his mind—The Silent Light, Magnus, the sense of something shifting beneath the surface. It was all too much. Teef and Dale were lounging on their beds, clearly waiting for his return.

"There he is!" Teef called out, sitting up, his green eyes glinting with curiosity. "Where've you been, man? You just vanished after the whole orc fiasco."

Dale, his body still showing signs of recent battle fatigue, laughed lightly from his spot. He had his arms crossed, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Yeah, Cyrus. You've been sneaking off a lot lately. What's the deal?"

Cyrus paused, the memory of his meeting with The Silent Light at the forefront of his thoughts. He couldn't tell them—not yet. Not when the stakes were this high. "Just… had to clear my head," he said casually, trying to keep his voice from betraying him. "Needed some space after all that."

Teef raised an eyebrow, skepticism plain on his face. "You're getting all mysterious on us, you know. But fine, keep your secrets for now." He launched a pillow at Cyrus with a grin. "Just don't make disappearing a habit. We were about to send a rescue party."

Cyrus caught the pillow, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't want to make you guys worry. I'm here now."

Before the banter could continue, the door creaked open, drawing their attention. Finn stepped inside, his face shadowed with an expression that set Cyrus instantly on edge. "Cyrus," he said, his voice low. "Can I have a word?"

The tension in Finn's voice wasn't lost on anyone. Teef and Dale exchanged glances, and Cyrus nodded slowly. "Sure." He glanced at his friends. "I'll be back soon."

Teef shrugged, settling back into his bed. "Just don't take too long. Dale's about to tell me the story of his 'glorious almost-victory.'"

Dale shot Teef a glare, though it held no real malice. "Hey, it was closer than you think."

Cyrus slipped out into the hallway with Finn, the cool night air wrapping around them as they stepped into the courtyard. They walked in silence for a moment, the academy's stone pillars casting long, eerie shadows. Finally, Finn stopped, resting against one of the pillars, his gaze distant.

"What's going on?" Cyrus asked, studying his friend. Something was definitely off—Finn's face was pale, his movements slower, as if burdened by some unseen weight.

Finn sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He looked up at the sky, the stars barely visible through the clouds. "The orc attack… it's just the beginning," he murmured. "There's something bigger at play here, Cyrus. I can feel it."

Cyrus moved closer, leaning against the opposite pillar, his eyes narrowing. "Do you know what it is? What's causing it?"

Finn hesitated, his eyes shifting to the shadows as if he could see something lurking within them. "No, not exactly. But there's this feeling—it's like a storm brewing just out of sight. I've felt this before." His hand clenched into a fist. "And the last time I ignored it, people died."

A chill ran through Cyrus. "You mean… your illness?"

Finn looked away, his jaw tightening. "It's not just that. What you saw during the attack—the way I collapsed, the pain… it's happened before. It's like something inside me reacts to dark magic. I don't know why, or what it means. But I know it's connected to all of this."

"Does Magnus know?" Cyrus asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Finn shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Magnus knows… some of it. But this?" He touched his chest, his eyes darkening. "This is different. It's not something that can just be fixed, and I don't need you worrying about it. I've managed this far."

Cyrus frowned, the weight of Finn's words pressing on him. "So what do we do? If the orcs come back…"

"They will," Finn said firmly, his eyes meeting Cyrus'. "They were after something—maybe someone. And the grand tournament at the end of the month? It's a perfect opportunity for them. All the academies gathered in one place… it's too tempting a target."

The knot in Cyrus' stomach tightened. The tournament, the competition that was supposed to be a celebration—it could become a battlefield. "Then we need to be ready," he said, his voice hardening with determination. "We can't let them catch us by surprise."

Finn nodded, his gaze softening. "Exactly. I wanted to warn you—keep your guard up. I've got a bad feeling about what's coming. And I don't think we're the only ones watching."

Cyrus held his friend's gaze, sensing the unspoken words between them. Finn was hiding something, but now wasn't the time to pry. "I'll be ready," he promised.

A ghost of a smile touched Finn's lips. "Good. Just… watch your back, alright? And mine, while you're at it."

Cyrus' lips twitched into a smirk. "Deal. But you better not collapse on me again. I need you in one piece for this."

Finn chuckled, though the sound was laced with exhaustion. "No promises."

It was Siera.

She smirked, her silver eyes shimmering under the moonlight like twin pools of liquid light. "Well, well, white-haired boy," she teased, her voice smooth and carrying a playful mockery that only seemed to deepen the mystery around her. "We keep running into each other, don't we?"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow, the suddenness of her appearance taking him by surprise. There was always something enigmatic about Siera—something that made it difficult to discern her true intentions. Before he could find a suitable reply, she leaned in close, her breath brushing against his ear, and whispered, "Meet me in the garden… the same place we last spoke." Without waiting for an answer, she slipped past him, her fingers grazing his arm for just an instant, her touch warm and fleeting before she disappeared into the shadows.

Finn, who had been standing beside Cyrus, let out a soft chuckle. "Looks like you've got your hands full, mate." He gave Cyrus a teasing nudge, his eyes alight with mischief. "Better not keep her waiting. Who knows what kind of trouble she'll get into if you do."

Cyrus shot Finn a look, though he couldn't completely hide the flicker of curiosity that surfaced beneath his composed expression. He sighed, giving in to the pull of the unknown. "I'll see you later, Finn," he said, his tone taking on a more serious edge.

Finn waved him off, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Have fun," he called, though there was something in his voice that suggested he understood this wasn't just an ordinary rendezvous.

Cyrus turned, his footsteps carrying him through the quiet corridors of the academy. The air was cool, the night silent but for the whisper of the wind rustling through the leaves. Above him, stars shimmered in the dark expanse of the sky, their distant light casting a faint glow over the stone pathways. As he approached the garden, the place where they had met before, a sense of déjà vu washed over him—the memory of their previous meeting fresh in his mind.

The garden itself was bathed in silver moonlight, its shadows deepening beneath the canopy of twisting vines and arching branches. He found Siera standing beneath an arch of ivy, her back to him as she gazed up at the sky. The moonlight touched her hair, turning it into a cascade of silver threads that flowed down her back. She stood there, so still, that she seemed almost like a statue—something ethereal, caught between two worlds.

"Always such a nice place for a chat, don't you think?" Siera spoke without turning around, her voice soft but tinged with that ever-present note of amusement. The way she stood there, bathed in pale light, gave her an otherworldly presence—like a ghost haunting the shadows.

Cyrus stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read her intentions. "Why did you want to speak with me?" he asked, his tone guarded, suspicion simmering beneath the surface. Siera had always been a mystery, but tonight, there was something else—something deeper lurking in her demeanor, something he couldn't quite place.

She turned to face him, her lips curved into a sly smile that never quite reached her eyes. "Oh, come now, Cyrus," she said, her voice dripping with playful mockery. "You don't need to act so guarded. After all, it's not like I'm about to bite." She took a step closer, her silver eyes locking onto his, her gaze unyielding. "Besides, we're both part of The Silent Light now, aren't we?"

Cyrus's heart skipped a beat. She knew. Of course, she did. But the real question was—how much did she know? And what did she intend to do with that knowledge? Before he could formulate a response, Siera continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, each word carefully measured and dripping with meaning.

"It's funny, don't you think?" she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through him. "How two people, born into darkness, find themselves seeking refuge within the light." Her words hung in the air between them, a riddle with no clear answer—a truth wrapped in layers of mystery.

Cyrus frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice low, his tone firm but unable to mask the unease creeping into his chest. He wasn't sure if she was trying to play games with him or reveal something hidden—something dangerous.

Siera's smirk widened, her eyes glinting with mischief, though beneath that playful facade, there was something else—something darker, unreadable. She moved even closer, her breath warm against his skin as she leaned in, her lips almost brushing his ear. "Oh, Cyrus," she whispered, her voice soft, wrapping around him like a spell. "You know exactly what I mean."

Before Cyrus could respond, before he could even begin to unravel her cryptic words, Siera's lips brushed against his cheek—a fleeting, delicate kiss. The touch sent a shiver down his spine, his muscles tensing as her warmth lingered for a breathless moment. It wasn't just the kiss—it was everything she represented, everything she seemed to know.

And then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, Siera slipped away, her form melting into the shadows of the garden's winding paths, leaving Cyrus standing beneath the stars, alone.

Cyrus remained there for a long moment, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. His heart pounded, but not because of the kiss—it was her words that echoed through him, the implications of what she had said. Born into darkness? It gnawed at him, unraveling every interaction they'd shared. Siera had always been just a little too curious, always turning up when he least expected it—whether it was in a quiet corner of the academy library or during a training session. She'd ask questions, deflect his own, and smile in that knowing way, as if she was amused by his ignorance. Now, in hindsight, it all felt deliberate. She hadn't been watching him out of simple curiosity—she'd been studying him. Manipulating him, even. How long had she known? How much had she really seen?

A darker thought took root, one that sent a chill through him, colder than the night air around him: Could Siera be the Monarch Abyss spy?

It would make sense. Siera was clever, elusive, always lingering on the edges like a shadow. If anyone could infiltrate the academy without raising suspicion, it was her. And yet, despite his suspicions, Cyrus couldn't ignore the strange pull he felt toward her. It wasn't just curiosity—it was something more, something that twisted inside him and refused to be named.

He brought a hand to his cheek, touching the spot where she had kissed him. Why do I feel this way? She could be the enemy—everything he had been warned about, everything he was supposed to fight against. He tried to shake off the feeling, forcing himself to focus on his mission, on his purpose. That was what mattered. Not the inexplicable connection he felt to Siera, not the warmth that still lingered from her touch.

But as he looked up at the stars, their cold, distant light offering no comfort, the question remained—a question that gnawed at him, refusing to be silenced. Was he drawn to her because of the darkness they both carried? Or was it something else entirely?

Cyrus exhaled sharply, his breath misting in the cool night air. He had to be careful—had to stay vigilant. The tournament was looming, and with it, the promise of danger. He couldn't afford to be distracted—not by Siera, not by her cryptic words, and certainly not by whatever strange connection had begun to form between them.

Yet, as he turned to leave the garden, the memory of her purple eyes lingered in his mind—the way they had seemed to pierce through all his defenses, the way they had seen something in him that even he wasn't sure he understood. There was more to Siera than met the eye—more than her playful smirks and teasing words. And whether she was a friend or a foe, Cyrus knew one thing for certain: he couldn't ignore her. Not anymore.

As he walked away, the shadows of the garden seemed to close in behind him, swallowing the path he had taken. The academy loomed ahead, its dark silhouette etched against the starlit sky, and Cyrus steeled himself for what was to come. Whatever game Siera was playing, whatever secrets she held, he would find out. He had to.

And until then, he would keep his guard up—and his heart shielded from the girl with purple eyes who seemed to know far too much.

Cyrus entered the dorm quietly, expecting Teef and Dale to be fast asleep. Instead, both were wide awake, lounging on their beds. Teef was staring up at the ceiling, while Dale had an unmistakable smirk on his face.

"So... how did it go?" Dale asked, his tone full of mischief.

Cyrus blinked, caught off guard. "How did what go?"

Teef sat up, a teasing grin on his face. "Oh, come on. Don't play dumb. Finn told us you went to meet up with Siera in the garden."

Cyrus felt the heat rise to his cheeks, his mind spinning for a response. "Uh, it wasn't like that..."

Dale let out a hearty laugh. "Sure it wasn't! Look at you, blushing like a schoolboy!"

Cyrus shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide his embarrassment. The conversation with Siera still played in his mind—the cryptic way she'd spoken, the kiss on the cheek. It had left him more confused than anything.

Teef leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "So, what did she want? Siera doesn't seem like the type to just casually chat."

Cyrus shrugged, trying to play it off. "Nothing important. She just... wanted to talk."

Dale wasn't buying it. He sat up, grinning from ear to ear. "Just talk, huh? That's all?"

Cyrus was about to respond when Dale's expression changed. With a sly grin, he added, "But hey, what about Layla, huh? I've seen how close you two are. You can't have both, mate."

Cyrus felt his blush deepen. Layla. He hadn't even considered how his connection with Siera might look to the others. His feelings for Layla had always been a bit complicated. She was his friend, and he cared for her deeply—he'd been looking out for her since they'd met. But was it more than that?

"I—" Cyrus started, unsure of how to explain it. "Layla's a friend. I care about her, of course. But it's not... it's not like that."

Dale raised an eyebrow, his teasing tone now mixed with something more serious. "A friend, huh? Well, she seems to care about you a lot. You might want to figure out what you're doing before someone gets hurt."

Cyrus looked at Dale, sensing something deeper behind his words. He had noticed how Dale acted around Layla—always trying to make her laugh, being there for her after the fights. Was Dale... interested in her too?

Teef, noticing the shift in mood, nudged Dale. "You're one to talk. You're not exactly subtle when it comes to Layla either."

Dale shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed but still grinning. "Hey, who wouldn't like her? She's amazing."

Cyrus sat on the edge of his bed, still processing his feelings. He knew he cared for Layla, deeply. She had always been there—steady, kind, and familiar in a way that grounded him. They had been through so much together, and that bond had grown into something protective. Layla wasn't just a friend; she was someone he felt responsible for, someone he wanted to keep safe, no matter what. Was that love, though? He wasn't sure. Sometimes he thought there might be more between them, but he had never let himself explore it—not with everything else weighing on him.

And then there was Siera. She was different—mysterious, confident, unpredictable. She challenged him, left him off balance, and he couldn't deny the strange pull she had on him. It wasn't the same as what he felt for Layla. Siera stirred something in him that was thrilling and dangerous, and he wasn't sure if it was curiosity, attraction, or something else entirely. But it was there, undeniable, and it made him question everything he thought he knew.

"Don't think too hard about it," Dale added, breaking the silence. "Just don't mess things up with both of them, alright?"

Cyrus shook his head, feeling the weight of their teasing but also the confusion building inside him. "I'm not messing anything up," he muttered, though deep down, he wasn't so sure.

As the room fell into a more comfortable silence, Cyrus's thoughts kept swirling. He didn't know where things stood with Layla—or Siera, for that matter. But with the tournament looming and the threat of more danger, he needed to focus. His heart and his emotions would have to wait.

Teef yawned, stretching his arms. "Whoever it is, Cyrus, just keep your head in the game. The tournament's still ahead, and we'll need you sharp."

Cyrus nodded, but he wasn't sure if keeping his head clear was possible anymore. The battles ahead were going to test him, but the growing conflict between his emotions for Layla and his strange attraction to Siera was another battle altogether.