Gray followed the man down the long corridor, his footsteps echoing softly against the marble floor. The silence between them was heavy, the kind that pressed down on his thoughts and made every passing second feel stretched. He had no idea why he was being called, but his instincts whispered that whatever awaited him was not good.
'Was it because of Elian?' he thought grimly. Or maybe the library? Or… something else?
He ran through every mistake he had made in the past few days, and the list was far too long for comfort. When the man in the black suit didn't say a word, Gray could only sigh quietly and follow, his expression blank but his heart unsettled.
As they passed a crossway, Gray's attention shifted to the room on the right. The door to the nurse's ward was slightly open. Inside, under the pale glow of medical lights, a single patient lay across the bed—wrapped in white bandages, bruised from neck to ankle. Elian.
Their eyes met for the briefest moment.
Elian's were burning with something that might have been hatred, but beneath that fire was exhaustion, and perhaps confusion. Gray hesitated, unsure whether to feel guilt or relief, but then Elian turned away, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The suited man didn't stop. He merely gestured for Gray to keep moving.
They finally stopped in front of a set of towering double doors engraved with an intricate crest—it was the same open tome from before.
With the scan of the man's wristband, the doors groaned.
The chamber beyond was vast, silent, and severe.
Statues of hooded figures lined the walls, their stony hands resting on open books. The air was filled with the faint hum of Vyre—restrained, organized, controlled. At the center stood a long table that could seat dozens. Three chairs rested at the far end, elevated slightly above the rest.
Two were occupied.
On the left sat a man perhaps in his early fifties. His gray hair was trimmed neatly, his posture straight, his eyes sharp yet calm. He radiated the aura of someone long accustomed to command—not the arrogance of authority, but the quiet weight of experience.
Beside him sat another man, younger—maybe in his late twenties. His black hair framed a pale, angular face, and his expression was cold as stone. His eyes, deep and dark, held none of the calm the older man had. They were sharp, impatient, and brimming with restrained anger.
The older man wore a deep navy robe trimmed with silver threads. Beneath it, he had a formal black vest and gloves that hinted at both nobility and discipline.
The younger man wore a fitted black suit with faint crimson embroidery along the cuffs and collar, the threads forming subtle geometric runes. His attire was sharp, immaculate, and radiated controlled authority.
The suited escort stopped, bowed slightly, and said, "Gray, as ordered."
The younger man gestured curtly for Gray to sit.
The older one, however, offered a small nod. "Please, take a seat. You're not in trouble… yet."
Gray sat at the far end of the table, trying not to show how his hands trembled slightly.
The older man was the first to speak. His voice was even, measured. "Gray. You've drawn attention recently. Your name appears in several reports, most notably regarding an incident in the library two nights ago. Would you care to explain?"
Gray swallowed hard. He had prepared for this—somewhat. Still, their presence made lying feel dangerous. "I… I was in the library that night," he began carefully. "I was studying. I must've dozed off. When I woke up, someone... attacked me. I didn't see his face clearly, but his power—" He paused, searching for the right word. "—was overwhelming. I fought back as best as I could, but I don't think I would've survived if someone else hadn't shown up."
The younger man leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Someone else?"
"Yes," Gray replied. "It was Seraphine."
The younger man's lips twisted into a faint sneer. "How convenient."
"Enough," said the older one. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the air with quiet authority. "We'll decide what's convenient and what's not."
The younger man leaned back, clearly displeased but silent.
The older one continued. "Tell me, Gray. Have you noticed anything unusual since then? Any… changes in your strain or Vyre flow?"
Gray hesitated but forced himself to shake his head. "No. Nothing like that."
The man studied him for a few moments before finally nodding. "Very well. That will be all for now."
Gray blinked in surprise. "That's… it?"
"For now," the younger man said sharply. "But don't get comfortable. If we find that you've been lying—"
The older man raised a hand, cutting him off again. "That's enough, Riven."
Riven scowled but turned his gaze away.
"Go," the older man said, turning back to Gray. "Return to your class."
Gray stood slowly, bowed his head slightly, and left the chamber. The doors shut behind him with a heavy thud that echoed through the hall.
Inside, Riven turned to the older man."You believe that ridiculous story father? Really?"
"I believe part of it," the man said calmly. "The details don't add up, but he's telling the truth about being attacked. Someone's playing a deeper game here."
Riven frowned. "Then we should detain him—"
"No," the older man said. "Watch him. That's all. If he lies again… we'll know. Either way, their second expedition will be coming up. We should be able to figure everything out by then."
Outside, Gray walked down the hallway, his expression blank but his mind spiraling. He couldn't tell if he was relieved or more afraid now. He was still thinking about the older man's words when he nearly bumped into someone turning the corner.
Seraphine.
Her eyes flicked up in surprise. "Gray? What are you doing here?"
"Council summons," he said quietly. "They...wanted to ask about the library."
Her brow furrowed slightly, concern flashing across her face. "I see." She glanced down the hall, then leaned closer. "Listen. Something's happening. If anyone calls for you again—come to me first."
"What's—"
But before he could finish, she brushed past him, her cloak fluttering behind her as she turned a corner and vanished.
Gray stood there for a moment, his thoughts tangled. Then, shaking his head, he headed for class.
By the time he reached the courtyard, the bell had already rung. People quickly left and came, the teacher nowhere in sight.
Dozens of students stood scattered across the floor, practicing control techniques or sparring. As Gray stepped in, several heads turned his way.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
He ignored them.
He caught Lira's gaze from across the courtyard. She was standing with a group of students but gave him the smallest of nods—barely noticeable, but enough for him to understand. The plan remained. Stay calm. Observe. Wait.
Gray moved toward a seat, only to notice that the one beside him was already taken. Aurelle.
'Again? Really? What sort of coincidence is this...' Gray ruffled his hair as he sat down.
The boy sat with his usual calm, his dark hair framing a face devoid of emotion. As Gray sat, Aurelle turned slightly toward him.
"Congratulations," he said suddenly.
"Congratulations?" Gray blinked. "For what?"
Aurelle tilted his head toward the digital display floating above them.
The leaderboard.
1. Lira Cael
2. Lucian Vesper
3. Gray
4. Korr Vane
5. Elara Kaelith
6. Adel Veyre
7. Aurelle Nocthallow
Gray stared in disbelief. "What…?"
"You're ranked third," Aurelle said evenly. "Apparently word of your little 'incident' got around."
Gray blinked again. "That's insane. I didn't even—"
Aurelle shrugged. "Rankings are titles. They don't mean much outside these walls."
Gray smirked faintly. "You sound like you've said that before."
"I have," Aurelle replied simply. "I could've been higher. But I forfeited my match with Lira."
Gray frowned. "Why would you do that anyway?"
"Because I don't care for meaningless hierarchies." He paused, then turned his gaze back to Gray. "But there's something I do care about."
Gray tensed slightly. "Which is?"
"The thing on your back," Aurelle said quietly.
Gray froze. "What are you talking about?"
Aurelle's voice lowered further. "When I saw you last… there was something attached to you. Not physically, but spiritually. Like a parasite of Vyre. Feeding on your energy."
A chill crawled down Gray's spine. "That's impossible. I—I checked..there was nothing there."
"Because it wasn't attached to your body," Aurelle said, eyes narrowing. "It was attached to your soul."
The words hit him like a hammer. His breath caught in his throat.
Aurelle continued, tone steady. "I could sense it faintly. It was small, but growing. I don't know what it is—but it has been feeding."
Gray's heart raced. Memories flooded back—the blonde girl who had pushed him during class, the faint coldness he'd felt afterward, the brief moment of dizziness he'd ignored.
Aurelle continued. "Luckily for you however, I managed to remove it. If I hadn't noticed, you could've very well died without anyone knowing. Gray, as an issue of advice. Always be careful about the people you are around." His voice was low and steady but carried depths and emotion.
Gray quietly took in the information and looked toward the far end of the courtyard.
Lucian was standing there, speaking with Lira, his expression calm, smug, almost serene.
Gray's hands curled into fists.
That girl… that moment…
It all made sense now.
He clenched his jaw, suppressing the anger boiling inside him.
Something had been attached to him—something unseen, something foreign—and he never even noticed.
Gray stared at Lucian's back, his vision narrowing until all he could see was the edge of that cold, unbothered smile.
He cursed under his breath.
The truth was finally starting to show its shape.
And it made Gray only angrier.