The rain came down softly, a steady drizzle that soaked the academy grounds and muffled the sounds of the world.
It was a fitting backdrop for the memorial arranged for Leon—a young boy who, though small in presence, had left behind a void far larger than anyone could have anticipated.
In the center of the courtyard, the academy staff had set up a simple pedestal adorned with white lilies and a bronze plaque engraved with Leon's name. Magical runes glowed faintly, protecting the flowers from the rain and casting an ethereal light around the gathering.
Students and professors stood in solemn clusters, their expressions subdued. The loss of a student was rare and painful, especially one as young as Leon.
The group lingered at the edge of the gathering. None of them said a word.
When Headmaster Eldric stepped forward, his presence commanded the quiet attention of everyone present. His silver robes gleamed faintly in the rain, his staff glowing softly as he raised his hands.
"Today, we gather to honor the life of Leon, a student of this academy and a friend to many," he began, his deep voice carrying across the courtyard. "Leon embodied qualities we hold dear—kindness, perseverance, and courage. Though his time with us was short, his impact was lasting."
The crowd listened intently, their heads bowed in respect.
Mikel stood toward the back, his head down. He couldn't bring himself to look at the pedestal. Every word felt like a weight pressing down on his chest, a reminder of the life taken by his hands.
Lyra stood beside him, her arms crossed tightly. Her face was an emotionless mask, but her golden eyes flickered with unease as Eldric continued.
"Though Leon is no longer with us, let us honor his memory by embodying the values he represented," Eldric said. He gestured toward the pedestal. "Those who wish may step forward to pay their respects."
The rain continued to fall, mingling with the quiet shuffle of footsteps as a few students approached to place flowers near the pedestal.
As the ceremony concluded, the crowd began to disperse, leaving the pedestal surrounded by fresh blooms.
Fiona lingered near the front, staring at the plaque with a distant expression. Rurik stood nearby, his brow furrowed as he watched the students leave. Talin shifted uncomfortably, leaning slightly on his staff as he glanced toward the others.
Mikel and Lyra stayed behind, standing apart from the rest of the group. The rain clung to their hair and clothes, but neither seemed to notice.
"Should we say something?" Talin asked hesitantly, his voice breaking the silence.
Rurik shook his head. "Not now," he said quietly. "Let them be."
Fiona turned to join them, her expression hard to read. She didn't say anything, but her posture was tense as she walked past.
Mikel glanced up briefly, catching Fiona's retreating figure before lowering his gaze again. Lyra placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm but silent.
Without a word, the group left the courtyard and headed back toward the dormitories.
Later that evening, Talin and Rurik found themselves in the common room of their dormitory. The space was quiet, save for the faint crackle of a fire in the hearth.
Talin sat on one of the worn couches, his staff resting across his knees. "Do you think… it'll ever feel normal again?" he asked softly, his gaze fixed on the flames.
Rurik, seated across from him, took a moment before answering. "It's not about things feeling normal," he said. "It's about learning to live with it."
Talin frowned. "That sounds… bleak."
Rurik leaned back, crossing his arms. "It's not easy, but it's the truth. We all carry things like this, Talin. It's what we do with them that matters."
Talin nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful.
Fiona paced in her room, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Books and papers were scattered across her desk, many of them open to passages about cursed artifacts and ancient magic.
Her mind raced with frustration. The professors, for all their experience, seemed to be getting nowhere with the investigation. And Mikel and Lyra… she shook her head, unwilling to finish the thought.
"They don't deserve to just walk away from this," she muttered to herself. "Not after what they did."
But even as the anger simmered, a pang of guilt crept into her chest. She hated feeling conflicted—hated the small, treacherous part of her that understood how desperate things must have been in the cave.
With a sigh, she sat down at her desk and picked up one of the books. If no one else could find answers, she would.
Mikel sat in his room, staring at the faint glow of the magical lantern on his desk. His mind replayed the ceremony, each word of the headmaster's speech cutting deeper than the last.
"You did well," the voice whispered suddenly, its tone soft and mocking.
Mikel froze, his breath catching in his throat. "You're not real," he muttered. "You're gone. The cave is gone."
The voice chuckled. "Oh, but I'm still here. Didn't you feel me? Didn't you hear me? You're marked now, my little pawn. You and your dear friend."
Mikel pressed his hands over his ears, trying to block it out, but the voice continued, its laughter echoing in his mind.
Lyra sat in the academy library, her golden eyes scanning a dusty tome about ancient curses. She had borrowed it from the restricted section under Althea's supervision, though the professor had been hesitant to allow it.
She flipped through the pages methodically, her expression calm but focused. If the Whisperer's influence truly lingered, she needed to understand how to sever it.
"You're wasting your time," the voice whispered faintly, its tone dripping with amusement.
Lyra's eyes narrowed, but she didn't react otherwise.
In his office, Headmaster Eldric stood with Professor Althea, the cursed artifacts placed carefully on his desk.
"I've sent word to the Holy Knights," Eldric said. "If these artifacts are as dangerous as we suspect, their expertise will be invaluable."