A heavy silence settled over the academy as dawn's first light crept through the towering windows. The corridors, once steeped in midnight's secrecy, now held the weight of an encounter that refused to fade from my thoughts.
Prince.
The word echoed in my mind, not just a name, but a reminder. Someone had known—had spoken it like a quiet revelation, yet with the certainty of one who had always known. And then, they had vanished into the shadows as if they had never been there at all.
I exhaled slowly, pushing away the restless thoughts that had plagued me through the night. Answers wouldn't come by standing idle.
I needed to move.
---
A Door That Wasn't There
The western wing of the academy stood as it always had—cold stone, intricate arches, a relic of an era long past. But I knew better now. Beneath the façade of history, something had been buried.
Last night, the passage had been there. Sealed now, but undeniably real. And if someone had entered it once, there had to be a way to do so again.
I ran my fingers along the wall, searching for the faint markings I had seen before. Nothing met my touch but unyielding stone. No hidden mechanism, no telltale shift of energy.
Had it truly been there?
I took a step back, frustration gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. The academy was riddled with secrets, some carved into its very foundation, others whispered only among those who knew how to listen.
The figure from last night had known more than they had revealed. They had tested me, weighed my presence here against something unseen. And then, they had left me with a warning:
"Some truths are meant to remain buried."
But I had never been good at leaving things buried.
A flicker of movement caught my eye—a student hurrying through the hall, head bowed, steps quick. I recognized the insignia on their cloak: a third-year scholar, someone far removed from the power struggles of nobility, yet close enough to the academy's archives to have access to records others might overlook.
Knowledge could be more valuable than strength.
And right now, I needed both.
---
The Unspoken Histories
The academy's library stretched high into the vaulted ceilings, rows upon rows of tomes locked away in an intricate maze of knowledge. Few students lingered at this hour—most still trapped in the haze of sleep or morning drills.
I moved with purpose, weaving through the shelves until I found the one I was looking for.
Sorin Velmont. Third-year scholar. Quiet, unassuming. But if there was anyone who knew of forgotten passages and hidden records, it would be him.
He barely noticed me at first, absorbed in a faded manuscript, fingers tracing the worn text with reverence. But as I stepped closer, a flicker of recognition passed through his eyes.
"You're not supposed to be in this section," he muttered, keeping his voice low.
I leaned against the edge of the table, studying him. "Neither are you, if we're being technical."
He hesitated, then sighed. "What do you want?"
"Information."
Sorin glanced around, ensuring no one was close enough to listen. "What kind of information?"
"The kind that isn't in the official records."
His fingers tightened around the manuscript, a nervous twitch. "You should leave."
"You know something." I didn't phrase it as a question.
His silence confirmed it.
I lowered my voice. "There's a hidden passage beneath the western wing. Someone used it last night."
His expression flickered—surprise, then fear.
"You don't want to be asking about that," he whispered.
"Then why do you know about it?"
Sorin swallowed hard, glancing over his shoulder before leaning in. "Because I've seen the records. And those who ask the wrong questions tend to disappear."
I met his gaze evenly. "I'm willing to take that risk."
He hesitated, then exhaled sharply, closing the manuscript in front of him. "There was once a lower level beneath the academy—a place meant for those who were… different."
The weight of his words settled between us.
"Different." A polite way of saying cursed.
"It was sealed off centuries ago," Sorin continued. "The official records claim it was destroyed. But if what you're saying is true, then…" He trailed off, uncertainty darkening his expression.
"Then it was never truly abandoned," I finished.
He nodded. "And if someone is using it, they are either very powerful or very desperate."
Neither option boded well.
---
A Message in the Dark
By the time I left the library, the halls had grown busier, the academy waking from its slumber. But the weight of what I had learned lingered like a shadow in my mind.
The lower level. A place for those who bore marks like mine.
Forgotten by history, but not by those who still walked within its depths.
If I wanted answers, I would have to return.
But I wouldn't be the only one searching.
A subtle shift in the air caught my attention. Not a sound, not a movement—just an undeniable sensation.
I was being watched.
Again.
I turned sharply, scanning the corridor. Faces blurred past me—students, instructors, figures wrapped in daily routine.
Yet someone lingered at the edge of the crowd. Unmoving. Watching.
The same presence from last night.
My pulse remained steady, my steps unhurried as I moved, but every instinct sharpened. If they wanted me to know they were there, it meant one thing.
They were waiting for me to act.
Fine.
I disappeared into the nearest archway, cutting through the labyrinthine halls with the ease of someone who had memorized every possible route. The presence followed—distant, but steady.
A game of patience.
I led them toward the training grounds, where the noise of sparring students masked the quiet rhythm of my own steps. Then, in a single breath, I pivoted—fast, sharp, controlled.
A blade flickered from beneath my cloak, aimed directly at the empty air.
And met resistance.
A gloved hand caught my wrist, halting the strike before it could land. For the first time, I saw them clearly—
A woman. Hooded. Cloaked in dark fabric that concealed everything but the sharp glint of her eyes.
"Impressive," she murmured, unfazed by the attack.
I pulled back, muscles coiled, waiting. "You've been following me."
"And you've been asking dangerous questions."
Silence stretched between us.
Then she took a step closer. "Walk away from this, and you might yet survive."
I didn't move. "That's not an option."
Something unreadable flickered across her gaze. "I thought you'd say that."
Then, before I could react—
She was gone.
Vanished like a whisper in the wind, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of her presence.
And the undeniable certainty that I was running out of time.