The moon hung low in the sky, its light barely breaking through the dark clouds that had gathered above the academy. The night was still, only the faint sound of leaves rustling in the breeze breaking the silence.
Ronan stood by the training yard, hidden in the shadows of a tall stone wall.
His eyes narrowed as he once again focused on his ability, trying to make sense of [Whisper]. He had been at it for hours, hoping to find a way to make it useful.
It wasn't much—just a quiet voice in someone's ear within a ten-meter radius. But tonight, he needed something more. He needed answers.
The moonlight flickered as Ronan moved silently toward the edge of the academy, his eyes scanning the path in front of him.
He'd gotten used to the quiet at night; the academy was eerily silent after curfew. But tonight, something was different.
A figure slipped past the edge of his vision, moving quickly but cautiously.
Ronan froze, instinctively reaching for his dagger, his eyes narrowing as the figure disappeared behind a set of ancient stone pillars. His heart skipped. He recognized the man—a thief.
At least, that was what Ronan assumed. The figure had been skulking around the grounds for the past few days, always lurking at the edges of the academy. No one had caught him yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone did.
Ronan had no intention of confronting him directly, but curiosity gnawed at him. He had to know what the man was up to.
After a moment of hesitation, Ronan silently followed, staying well out of sight. The thief didn't seem to notice him as he made his way to a hidden door built into the stone foundation of the academy. It was a passageway Ronan had never seen before.
The thief was reaching for a hidden lever, activating the mechanism that caused the door to swing open with a soft creak. Ronan held his breath as he watched, his pulse quickening.
The door led to a long, narrow passageway that wound downward, disappearing into the darkness beneath the academy. It was hidden well—most students would never even know about it.
Ronan's mind raced. The Fable.
The rumors said it was kept underground, away from prying eyes. Could the thief be after it?
He didn't have time to consider the possibilities. The thief had already entered the passage, and the door was beginning to close.
Without thinking, Ronan crept forward, slipping into the darkness just before the door closed completely. His steps were light, barely a whisper against the stone. The passageway stretched on ahead, and he followed, keeping to the shadows.
The air was cold down here, thick with dust. The walls seemed to close in around him as he moved deeper into the academy's hidden depths.
The faint glow of the thief's lantern ahead of him was the only light, but it was enough to guide Ronan forward. He could hear the thief's footfalls, quick and anxious, echoing off the walls.
Ronan's thoughts buzzed as he crept forward, careful not to make a sound. If the thief was after the Fable, it meant something big was happening.
The Fable could change everything—unlock new abilities, elevate people to unimaginable heights. Maybe it was the key to everything Ronan had been searching for.
The passage opened into a large, dimly lit room, and Ronan's eyes widened as he saw it. In the center of the room, sitting on a pedestal, was the Fable. It was just as he'd heard in whispers—an orb of light, glowing softly in the darkness.
The Fable was rumored to have the power to elevate people's abilities, to transform them, to make them something greater. Ronan had heard all the stories, the legends, and the rumors, but seeing it for himself… it felt different. It felt real.
The thief was now approaching the pedestal. His eyes gleamed with greed as he reached out for the orb, his fingers brushing against its surface. But before he could make contact, he froze.
Ronan narrowed his eyes. The thief had tensed up, as if sensing something was wrong.
Then, without warning, the thief spun around, his eyes locking with Ronan's. His expression shifted from surprise to shock, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came out.
"How… how did you see me?" the thief demanded, his voice trembling with disbelief.
Ronan blinked in confusion. The thief's eyes flickered nervously, scanning the area around him. "I'm invisible. How—"
Invisible? Ronan was confused before realizing what the thief meant. The thief's ability seems to be related to illusions, capable of rendering the wearer invisible to the naked eye. It was supposed to be foolproof.
But Ronan had seen him. How?
Ronan stayed silent for a moment. He was unsure how he was able to see the thief as well.
With that thought in mind, he began weighing his options. He wasn't scared, not yet, but he couldn't let this thief take the Fable. Not if it meant throwing everything into chaos.
The thief took a step back, his hand reaching for a dagger at his side, but Ronan didn't flinch. Instead, he stepped forward, closer to the thief, his voice cold and steady.
"You're not invisible to me."
The words were simple, but they hit the thief like a hammer. His hand trembled, the dagger slipping slightly from his grip as fear spread across his face. He looked around again, his heart pounding as he searched for any clue of how Ronan had seen him.
"You—how?" the thief whispered, eyes wide. "What… what are you?"
Ronan smiled, his lips curling into a smirk. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Go back, this place isn't for you."
The words seemed to settle in the air around them, hanging there like a dark cloud. The thief's eyes darted around again, his breath quickening. He had to know what was going on—how could someone see him when he was invisible?
Ronan's smile deepened. He didn't need to explain himself. He didn't need to give the thief the satisfaction. Instead, he let the silence linger, his presence like a shadow in the room.
The thief took a step back, then another, clearly rattled. He glanced at the Fable, his eyes burning with desire.
"You're in my way," the thief spat, his voice sharp and dripping with menace. Recovering from his initial shock, he flicked his wrist, lunging forward with the dagger, its tip gleaming like a predator's fang.