A quiet hush had settled over the academy grounds, thick and suffocating like the weight of an unspoken truth. The torches along the stone pathways flickered, their dim glow barely keeping the encroaching shadows at bay. I moved through the deserted corridors with deliberate steps, my breath steady despite the unease curling in my gut.
The hidden passage I had discovered last night lingered in my thoughts. Whoever had entered that concealed doorway had knowledge beyond that of a mere student. They had accessed something ancient, something deliberately buried within the academy's foundation. And if my cursed mark was tied to those secrets, I needed to uncover them—before they consumed me.
The mark pulsed beneath my sleeve, sending a slow throb through my arm. Not painful. Not yet. But I could feel its presence, like a whisper just beneath the surface of my skin.
I reached the western wing, where the stone walls bore the weight of forgotten centuries. The same archway from last night loomed ahead, its edges worn from time. My fingers brushed against the cold surface, seeking the hidden symbols I had seen before.
Nothing.
I frowned. Whoever had entered before had left no trace. No residual magic. No lingering energy. It was as if the wall had never shifted at all.
But I knew what I had seen.
Clenching my jaw, I took a step back, studying the architecture more carefully. There had to be a way in.
A sudden presence brushed against my senses—faint, but unmistakable. I wasn't alone.
I turned sharply, my hand instinctively hovering near my waist, where a concealed blade rested beneath my cloak. The corridor remained empty, but the sensation lingered.
Watching.
Waiting.
"Who's there?" My voice cut through the silence, low but firm.
For a moment, nothing. Then—
A whisper of movement.
My gaze snapped to the far end of the hallway just as a figure emerged from the shadows. Cloaked. Hooded. Their presence was almost weightless, yet the energy surrounding them was anything but ordinary.
I didn't recognize them.
But they knew me.
A Warning in the Dark
"You shouldn't be here," the figure said, voice smooth and unreadable.
I held my ground. "Neither should you."
A pause. Then, a soft chuckle. "Perhaps. But I am not the one being hunted."
The mark on my arm reacted before I did. A sharp pulse, a warning.
I didn't flinch. "Hunted by who?"
The figure tilted their head slightly, as if considering how much to reveal. "By forces you do not yet understand."
Cryptic. Purposefully so.
I exhaled slowly, keeping my stance relaxed but ready. "If you know what I am, then you know I don't have the luxury of turning away."
The air between us shifted.
A slow, deliberate movement—barely perceptible, but enough. This wasn't a mere observer. They were testing me.
"You are different from the others," they murmured, as if speaking more to themselves than to me. "The mark should have consumed you by now."
It nearly had. More than once. But I wasn't about to reveal that.
Instead, I met their gaze directly, my voice unwavering. "And yet, I'm still standing."
Silence.
Then, a whisper of something unseen—like the ghost of a presence brushing against my senses. The figure took a step back, retreating into the gloom.
"If you continue down this path, you will find what you seek," they said, their voice barely more than an echo. "But be warned, Prince—some truths are meant to remain buried."
Prince.
The word hung between us, heavier than any warning they could have given.
And then—
They were gone.
Vanished into the darkness as if they had never been there.
The Weight of a Name
I remained still, listening, waiting. But the corridor had returned to its empty silence.
My heartbeat was steady, but the weight of that final word pressed against my chest.
Prince.
They knew who I was.
Not just a student. Not just another cursed soul wandering through the academy's halls.
They knew the truth.
And if they knew—who else did?
I exhaled sharply, shoving the thought aside. Now wasn't the time for paranoia. I had learned something tonight, even if I didn't fully understand it yet. The hidden passage was real. The secrets beneath the academy were real.
And someone didn't want me to find them.
Which meant I was getting close.
A Night Without Rest
Sleep was an afterthought. When I finally returned to my quarters, the first streaks of dawn were already bleeding into the sky, casting a dull light through the tall windows.
The room was silent. Stiflingly so.
I sat on the edge of the bed, rolling back my sleeve. The mark remained unchanged, its dark tendrils still etched against my skin. But I could feel it—coiling, waiting.
Whatever lay beneath the academy—whatever truth had been buried—I wasn't the only one searching for it.
And I wasn't the only one willing to kill for it.