Chapter — The Crystal's Secret
May 19th, Afternoon — 1:23pm
Days blurred together after Kain's funeral. The mourning cries of the school still echoed in the corridors like ghosts clinging to memory. But there was no time to grieve. The court hearings, the threats from within, and now the truth about Caleb's supposed crime pressed down like a suffocating storm cloud.
I wrote everything in my journal that morning, neat strokes across parchment:
> "May 7th — the day Class E was sentenced.
May 17th — the case begins, interrupted by the death of a holy one.
May 18th — Kain's funeral, the Silver Kingdom spies revealed their hand.
May 19th — everything connects. Today, the execution begins."
I snapped the book shut, exhaling.
The water from the bathroom tap was freezing, but it washed away the tension in my bones. The cold was sharp, like steel, but it steadied me. I dressed in my uniform, buttoning each piece with deliberate care. Today was not for mistakes.
Then came the knock.
"Paul."
I opened the door. Prisca stood there, arms folded, irritation glowing in her eyes.
"So you're not ready, and yet you wanted me here really early?" she asked, her voice somewhere between scolding and weary.
"Being early is good," I answered calmly. "It gives me the perfect chance to tell you my idea."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to let me stand here all day, or are you coming out?"
I locked the door behind me, and together we walked down the quiet hallway. The air was tense, like it carried whispers we couldn't hear.
"What is this all about?" she pressed.
"This…" I slowed my pace, "…is our final way to win the case."
"Final way? What do you mean?"
I stopped walking. "What I'm about to show you… I want you to be observant. I want you to understand."
Prisca frowned, studying me as if I had become someone unfamiliar. "What is this change in you, Paul? You're not the same as before."
I ignored the jab. Words of incantation slipped from my lips. The corridor trembled faintly, and in front of us, a shimmering door of symbols carved itself into existence, glowing faintly like moonlight bending through water.
Prisca froze. "Wait—Paul, what are you doing? This… this is where the school crystal is kept."
"I know," I replied softly.
Her voice sharpened. "Then you should also know that the only people allowed in are holy ones, prefects, and teachers!"
I placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Stop panicking. I took permission… and besides…" I gestured. "…we're not the only ones here."
She blinked. "Not the only ones?"
I snapped my fingers.
From the shadows stepped Zeek, calm as night itself. His cloak still carried traces of incense from the rituals he had mastered.
"You're late, Paul," Zeek said flatly. "You told me five a.m. It's six."
"Sorry," I answered, scratching my neck. "Got delayed."
Prisca's eyes widened. "Wait—you're working with him?"
"No. He's just here to help."
"Help?" she echoed. "Then… he's on our side?"
"No." I shook my head. "He has business here of his own. We just happen to share the same path… for now."
Prisca muttered, "I see…" but suspicion lingered in her eyes.
We stepped into the room. It was dim, the air thick with the weight of spiritual residue. Faint runes glowed across the floor, arranged in a ritual circle surrounding a tall iron lampstand with an empty socket at its crown.
Zeek raised his hand, speaking words that bent the air:
> "O' veil of spirit, woven in shadow,
By oath of silence, by rite of flame,
I command thee—unravel."
The runes flared and dissolved, vanishing like smoke scattered by wind.
Prisca gasped. "How could Caleb have entered here and stolen the school's crystal? This place… it's supposed to be impossible to break into."
We moved cautiously. My eyes trailed across the floor until I noticed it: a crack along the stone tiles. Misaligned shelving. Subtle flaws.
I turned to Zeek. "Tell me—does the crystal room usually look this old? This easy to invade?"
Zeek frowned. "No… even for me, it should've been nearly impossible. It took me two years just to learn the incantation I used now."
Prisca nodded. "Yes… this is wrong. I've heard that the room is guarded by layers of spiritual entities. Only a holy one, and one well-versed in mastery, could temporarily lift them. Even some teachers can't manage it."
Zeek's jaw tightened. "Exactly. And yet we walked in as if the door were already half open. Something isn't right."
I crouched, fingers brushing the cracks. My mind churned.
"What is the history behind the crystal?" I asked. "Why is it so important?"
Prisca tilted her head. "Wait—you don't know? You didn't study?"
"Even when I read the archives, it was fragmented. Hard to grasp."
"You're hopeless," she muttered.
Zeek's gaze softened with gravity. "The school crystal isn't just a jewel. There are five of them. Five crystals forged in the Age of Collapse by the legendary Amazing Five—the heroes who repelled the endless void beasts and carved nations from chaos. Each crystal holds fragments of their will, their power, their ideals. When the world was divided into kingdoms, the crystals were separated to prevent catastrophe if one kingdom ever fell to corruption."
He paced, his voice heavy with lore.
"One was entrusted to the Silver Kingdom. Another to the Dawn Empire. A third to the floating citadel of the magisters. A fourth vanished—lost to time. The fifth… was placed here, in Astra Academy. This school was not built as merely a place of learning. It was constructed as a fortress of guardianship. Astra exists to protect this crystal, and the next generation of mages are raised here under its watchful aura."
Prisca's eyes widened.
Zeek continued, his tone sharpening. "The crystals are more than relics. They resonate. Together, they stabilize the thin veil between realms. If one is corrupted, destroyed, or stolen… the balance falters. Wars. Invasions. Entire kingdoms collapsing. That is why Astra cannot afford a scandal. Why Caleb was framed. Why someone within wants the blame shifted."
His words hung in the air like thunder.
I stood, my hand brushing against the misfit shelf again. "No… this isn't the real crystal room."
They both turned to me.
"What?" Prisca demanded.
"This is an illusion. Crafted by someone skilled… too skilled. Think about it. The cracked floor. The shelf out of place. The fact Zeek could unravel the barrier too easily, after saying it took him years to learn. This is a staged trap. We've been led here."
Their silence was heavy.
I pressed my palm against the wall. The stone rippled like water.
"The crystal Caleb was accused of stealing was an illusion. Just like this room."
The wall folded inward, spiraling as though reality itself peeled away. The floor trembled violently, and the ritual circle warped into smoke. The chamber collapsed into itself—
—and we were standing in a narrow, haunting corridor, its walls lined with glowing seals and heavy barriers thrumming with power. The true guardianship.
Prisca's eyes widened. "This… this is the real room."
Zeek's voice was hushed. "Then that means…"
"Yes," I said, lowering my hand. "There is an illusionist among us."
Prisca's breath trembled. "But how do we prove Caleb's innocence with this?"
I turned to her, gaze steady. "I want you to handle that."
Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean—?"
I didn't answer. Something was watching us. I could feel it—eyes peering from the veil between barriers. My plan couldn't be spoken aloud. Not yet. If Prisca played her role as bait, maybe the puppeteer pulling these strings would finally reveal themselves.
And if not… then Class E would fall, along with all of Astra.