The hallway was quiet. Not the ordinary kind of quiet—this one pressed down on the lungs, stealing air, muting thought. Only the dull flicker of broken lights hummed above, throwing fractured shadows across the polished floor.
Gray stood at the end of that corridor, his heartbeat steady, his eyes fixed on the silhouette that lingered in the dark. The other boy's form was faint, almost swallowed by the shadows, but Gray could make out the messy black hair and thin build.
'I see, he already figured it out. And he's not here for good reasons, that much I can tell.'
Neither of them spoke at first.
The tension sat heavy between them, like a wire pulled tight. Then Gray exhaled softly, stepping closer.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The boy smiled faintly, head tilting. "Why should I tell you?" His voice was quiet, yet something in it crawled beneath the skin. Still, he gave the answer anyway. "Ahh, why does it matter anyway. You can call me Elian."
Gray nodded once, his tone calm. "Fine, Elian. Then tell me—why have you been following me?"
That earned a laugh, sharp and hollow. "Following you?" Elian's grin widened. "No, no. You've got it backward."
Gray's eyes narrowed.
"I wasn't following you," Elian continued, taking a slow step forward. "I was hunting you. Ordered to, actually."
The smirk vanished from Gray's face. He felt his muscles tense, the instinct to draw his weapon flaring—and then the cold realization that he didn't have it.
"Ordered?" Gray said evenly. "By who?"
"Who else?" Elian's voice lowered, almost amused. "Lucian."
Gray's stomach twisted. Lucian.
Why would Lucian order this? If the cult wanted him gone, they'd have done it quietly—through the organization's chain, through someone trained. Like in the library, not through a student. Unless Lucian acted alone. Unless Lucian was the connection to the cult.
Gray took a slow breath. "Why are you working with him?"
Elian frowned slightly, irritation flashing across his face. "Why all the questions? It's obvious, isn't it?" His hand reached behind his waist. "Power. Status. Gold. What better way to get them than to cling to a royal?"
He drew a thin dagger from his sheath, the blade whispering out with a metallic hiss.
Elian smiled again, cruelly this time. "Enough talk. You're a problem he doesn't need. I'll finish the job before anyone starts asking questions."
Gray sank into a low stance. No weapon. No light. Only Vyre and instinct. He exhaled once. "You're making a mistake."
"Maybe," Elian said. "But it's mine to make."
He lunged.
The air cut apart as the dagger swung, quick and precise. Gray stepped back, narrowly dodging the first strike, then the second. The third came from below—he barely twisted aside, feeling the wind of the blade graze his ribs.
Elian pressed forward like a shadow, unrelenting.
Gray caught the rhythm, ducking under the next swipe and throwing a straight punch toward his chest. Elian blocked it, catching Gray's fist midair. The grip was stronger than it looked. Gray's eyes widened as he tried to pull back, but the boy's hand was like a vice.
So he changed tactics—channeling Vyre down into his legs. A pulse of dark energy sparked beneath his feet, propelling him backward with force. The sudden momentum broke Elian's grip, and Gray twisted midair, landing in a half-crouch.
Elian blinked—just in time for Gray to surge forward, pivot, and drive a kick straight into his face.
The sound cracked through the empty hall.
Elian staggered back, blood spraying from his mouth as he hit the wall. For a second he looked stunned—then he wiped his lip, his smile returning, faint and trembling. "That hurt," he muttered. "Good."
He stepped forward again. "My turn."
Gray moved to brace, but Elian was already in motion. His hand flicked, dagger gleaming as he thrust. Gray ducked low, swinging his arm to deflect, then thrust a palm toward Elian's chest.
A burst of darkness erupted from his hand—an orb of swirling shadow that crashed into Elian's face. It exploded on impact, covering him in smothering darkness.
Elian screamed, staggering backward, slashing blindly through the air. "Stay—stay back!" he shouted, voice cracking.
Gray didn't hesitate. He stepped in and launched another kick, this one Vyre-imbued. The blow struck clean, sending Elian sprawling onto the floor, coughing blood and saliva.
Gray lowered his stance, breathing hard.
"That was too easy," he muttered.
He turned slightly—then froze. His right leg wouldn't move.
He frowned, pulling harder. Nothing. It was as if the floor itself had swallowed him. Looking down, his eyes widened. Beneath his boot, a glowing purple circle pulsed faintly, runic symbols spinning slowly like clockwork.
'What the hell? Why can't I move!'
A trap. And he had fallen for it.
Elian's laughter echoed through the hallway, faint and sharp. "You actually stepped right into it," he said, wiping blood from his chin as he rose. "I told you—you were being hunted."
Gray's heartbeat quickened. He pulled harder, trying to break the bind, but the rune clung to him like a living thing.
Elian advanced, dagger glinting faintly. "Can't move, can you?" he whispered. "Good. This won't take long."
He dashed forward.
Gray twisted, using his free leg to pivot, barely dodging the downward strike. The blade grazed his shoulder, slicing through cloth and skin. Pain seared through him. He gritted his teeth and swung his arm, landing a punch across Elian's face.
The impact sent him staggering back. The rune beneath Gray's foot flickered—just for a heartbeat—and Gray tore his leg free, stumbling backward.
He didn't have time to recover.
Behind Elian, a massive array had appeared—hovering in the air, spinning in slow, deliberate motion. It was larger than the first, its symbols intricate and pulsing with violet light. The air itself seemed to warp around it.
"What the hell is that?" Gray muttered under his breath.
Elian smirked, raising his hand. The circle spun faster.
Then it fired.
Bolts of condensed Vyre shot through the air, purple streaks screaming down the corridor. Gray dove behind a nearby pillar as the projectiles slammed into stone, bursting into flashes of violet light.
Chunks of debris scattered across the floor. Each blast tore deeper into the pillar.
Gray's mind raced. This wasn't like anything he had seen before. This is something else.
The boy's voice rang out, echoing between the walls. "You can't hide forever, Gray! The Curse always finds its mark!"
Curse.
'So that was his Affinity. It makes sense now—the traps, the runes, the arrays. Everything was planned before the fight even began. I'm at a disadvantage, a major one. I have to close the gap or else I'm going to lose!'
Gray steadied his breathing, hands trembling slightly. He couldn't win by force. Not against this kind of opponent. He'd need to think.
The pillar cracked again, shaking under another barrage.
He had seconds.
He closed his eyes, drawing Vyre into his core, forcing it outward—not as an attack, but as a veil. The darkness spread from his body, dissolving his outline into shadow. To any observer, it would seem as though he had vanished into thin air.
When the pillar finally collapsed, Elian stepped forward cautiously, dagger raised. "Where did you go?" he muttered, scanning the hall. His array floated behind him, spinning idly, casting eerie violet reflections on the shattered floor.
Silence.
He turned slowly, eyes darting between shadows. Then he noticed it—a faint ripple, a movement in the reflection of the moonlight seeping through the tall windows.
He smirked. "There you are."
The array behind him pulsed again, faster this time.
Purple Vyre bullets exploded outward, tracing arcs through the hallway. One of them clipped Gray's arm as he tried to shift positions, sending a spray of blood across the floor.
Elian laughed. "You can't outrun a curse, Gray! It's already marked you!"
Gray gritted his teeth, breathing through the pain. He waited for an opening—but Elian was still smiling, eyes half-lidded, like he knew something Gray didn't.
Then, softly, he clicked his fingers.
Two new runic circles appeared—one on the left, one on the right side of the hallway.
Gray's eyes darted toward them.
The one on the right flickered weakly before fading. The one on the left, however, glowed brighter, its edges sharpening until it almost looked solid.
"Got you," Elian whispered.
The circle snapped shut.
Gray felt the pressure first—a pulse around his right leg, the same numbness crawling up through his thigh. He looked down in horror as the purple light coiled up his skin, the seal half-phased into his skin. It pulsed with his heartbeat, tightening each time he tried to move.
He staggered, pain stabbing through him.
Elian's grin widened. "You really didn't think I wouldn't plan for your shadow tricks, did you?" he said softly. "I placed those seals in every patch of darkness you could hide in. All I had to do was wait."
Gray clenched his fists, the world spinning slightly. "You're insane."
"Maybe," Elian said. "But I'll still be the one walking away."
He raised his hand. The massive array behind him began to spin again—faster, louder. Its light filled the corridor, painting everything in deep violet.
The symbols warped, forming a shape like an eye.
Gray's breath hitched.
Elian smiled faintly, almost gently. "Goodbye, Gray."
The array flared.
And the world was swallowed by purple light.