The council chamber of Duskfall Academy was not meant for noise. Its vaulted ceiling and long obsidian windows demanded silence, demanded focus. When Elowen—Solenne to the world—pushed through the double doors, the room's quiet bent toward her like the hush of an audience.
Her duel with Ryujin still clung to her like smoke, every gesture restrained, every breath heavy. Jasper rose from his chair first, his hands together in deliberate applause. Haruki followed, offering a small bow of his head. Even Milo, though reluctant, muttered a terse:
"Good fight."
Elowen inclined her head politely, lips curved but never too high. "There was no winner. Only a stoppage." She sank into her chair at the head of the council's crescent table. The disappointment in her voice was muted, yet present—like an ember under glass.
"Still," Jasper said, "what you showed… no one here doubts where you stand among the apex."
"That's kind of you," she replied, eyes sweeping the council. "But let's not waste breath on pride. What progress has been made on the investigation?"
The air cooled instantly. Haruki shifted through documents, Milo crossed his arms, Jasper avoided her eyes. Nothing was said before the door opened again.
Soraya stepped in.
Her presence was as casual as a storm walking into a parlour. She carried no hurry, no apology. Her smile was razor-thin, and her voice sliced through the stagnant air:
"Congratulations, Solenne. A beautiful fight, even if it ended unfinished."
Elowen nodded once. "Thank you."
"But…" Soraya's gaze wandered, sharp and unhurried. "Day one of the festival cancelled. All eyes on us. A disappointment, don't you think?"
The words curdled the chamber. Milo's jaw tightened; he leaned forward across the table.
"You show up late. You act like nothing happened. And now you mock us?" His tone dripped with restrained fury.
Soraya didn't flinch. She tilted her head, lips curving into that same venomous smile. "If my behaviour bothers you so much, Milo… you're welcome to stop me. By force."
The silence that followed was a blade waiting to fall. Milo opened his mouth and shut it, fingers curling into fists.
Soraya leaned back, satisfied. "That's what I thought."
Jasper looked away, pretending to study the parchment in front of him. Haruki's eyes narrowed, cautious but unvoiced.
Elowen alone smiled—cool, poised, with none of Soraya's venom. "Violence isn't permitted in the council room," she said softly, almost like a reprimand to a child.
"Of course," Soraya said, brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve. "It was only a joke."
But everyone in the chamber knew it wasn't.
She crossed the room and slid into her empty seat. Now, with Elowen at the head, Milo fuming at her right, Jasper and Haruki guarding their neutrality, and Soraya lounging at the far end, the circle was complete.
The council chamber hummed faintly as Elowen raised her hand. A translucent screen unfolded from the air, light painting across their faces.
The map of Duskfall Academy spread wide, dotted with crimson specks.
"These," Elowen said evenly, "are our students with illusion affinities."
Haruki leaned forward, hands folded. "Since the Red Rook Protocol was enacted, none of them have shown abnormalities. Their mana flows, schedules, even their emotional registers—clean."
Jasper gave a soft scoff, lounging back in his chair. "Then the academy is overreacting. Dragging suspicion over a hundred students without reason makes us look paranoid."
Elowen's gaze didn't flicker. "An instructor is dead."
Silence pressed down like a lid. Even Soraya, lounging with that usual detached smile, tilted her head slightly.
Milo's voice broke the quiet. "Where did you get this information?"
Elowen's eyes narrowed—measured, calm. "Chrona herself. The instructor wasn't just A-rank. He was killed without resistance."
Jasper frowned. "Without resistance? That doesn't even make sense. Unless—"
The screen shifted. Words bled across it.
Codename: Nyxshade. Confirmed Illusionist. Believed to be operating from within our walls.
A face appeared. Unfamiliar. Alien. Young.
None of them knew her. None of them should.
Soraya was the first to break the silence. "And how true is this?"
Milo slammed his palm on the table, his glare pinning her. "What truth do you need, Soraya? It's all here. A killer inside our school."
Her smile didn't waver. "Unconfirmed."
That one word broke him. Milo's laugh was harsh, hollow. "Unconfirmed? With evidence this clear? Unless…" His eyes burned into her. "Unless you're her. Or her lackey."
Jasper's voice cut sharp. "You're going too far. There's no proof."
Haruki nodded. "Speculation without substance is reckless."
Elowen said nothing. She watched.
Milo's grin widened, wolfish, and he dragged a bundle of documents onto the table. He fanned them out, pages sliding across the polished wood.
"Proof enough."
The papers glowed faintly with verification seals. Reports and Logs.
"Late-night disappearances. The forbidden library. Meetings with Calla Myre—one of the suspects under Red Rook surveillance." Milo's eyes gleamed. "Care to explain?"
Jasper's face stiffened. Haruki's brows rose.
Elowen's expression remained unchanged. She had known all along.
Soraya leaned back, completely unbothered. She flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder, smirk tugging at her lips.
"Why so eager to throw me on the pyre, Milo? Do you hate me that much? Or are you just desperate?"
His fists clenched. "Answer."
She sighed, as though bored. "First—yes, Calla is my friend. Second—I was the one who let her into the library. Third—I had permission."
Milo's jaw locked. "…From who?"
"Instructor Mae."
The words hit like a stone dropped in still water. Milo faltered.
Soraya tilted her head. "Didn't know that, did you? All that bluster, and yet here you are, making a fool of yourself." Her smile turned cruel. "Because deep down, you can't stand the fact you'll never beat me."
The chair scraped violently as Milo shot up. His hand gripped her collar, hauling her halfway over the table. Frost licked at the air, crawling up her shirt as his eyes burned white.
"Shut your mouth," he growled, "or I'll show you where this leads."
The room surged with tension. Jasper and Haruki pushed to rise—
"Sit," Elowen's voice cut through, calm but immovable.
They froze.
Soraya, still caught in his grip, stared into Milo's eyes. Her smirk flickered into something sharper. "You're ruining my shirt."
Her hand closed around his wrist. The temperature between them spiked, an invisible clash rattling the wood beneath.
The air was seconds from breaking.
"Enough," Elowen said.
No smile now. Just steel.
Milo's breath heaved, frost dissipating slowly. His grip loosened. He shoved her away and dropped back into his seat, anger burning but silent.
Soraya smoothed her collar, smirk restored. "Thank you for proving my point, Milo."
No one spoke. The silence was heavy, the kind that lingered after near-bloodshed.
Finally, Elowen folded her hands. "Nothing more will be achieved tonight. Meeting adjourned."
One by one, they rose and left. The chamber emptied until only Elowen remained.
She lowered herself back into her chair, the holographic map flickering out.
"…Interesting."
Her smile returned—gentle, inscrutable, dangerous.
* * *
The Headmaster's office was dim, its heavy curtains blotting out the morning sun. Bookshelves lined the walls, their spines like silent judges. At the far end sat Headmaster Silas, posture as unyielding as carved stone, his sharp eyes following every movement in the room.
Across from him, Valkara stood with her arms crossed. Beside her lounged her partner, Coil, idly flicking a coin between his fingers, silver flashing each time it spun. Chrona stood near the table, silent until called upon, though the faint twitch in her jaw betrayed her irritation.
Valkara's voice broke the quiet. "We don't have time to waste. Nyxshade and Glass Fang will strike before this festival ends. Two days. At most."
Silas raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Bold words. But unnecessary worry. Do you think I haven't considered this?" He gestured vaguely to the window beyond. "The festival is guarded by professional heroes from all three academies. Whatever rabble this Nyxshade leads, she cannot hope to match our strength."
Valkara's eyes narrowed. "A 'rabble' that killed multiple heroes before even making herself known? You're underestimating her."
Chrona stepped forward, voice sharp. "Headmaster, she's right. If Nyxshade strikes here, it won't just damage Duskfall's name. It'll humiliate the entire country. People will say America's heroes have grown soft, factories mass-producing mediocrity while children die on stage."
Silas's gaze hardened, but before he could respond, Coil's lazy drawl filled the air.
"And if they succeed?" The coin vanished into his palm. "Then it's more than humiliation. It's blood. The academies won't let it go. Accusations will fly—sabotage, negligence. One spark could light a fire between nations. War born from a single festival stage."
For the first time, Silas's composure cracked. His fingers tightened on the arm of his chair. The shadow of that possibility lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Chrona didn't waste the moment. With a flick of her wrist, a holographic screen bloomed above the table, casting pale light across their faces. Duskfall's map, covered in red dots.
"The Red Rook Protocol. Our suspects."
Valkara's arms unfolded. Her eyes narrowed at the screen. "Students?"
Chrona nodded. "Illusion affinity holders, all accounted for. Monitored around the clock. Nothing out of place. No breakthroughs."
"And yet," Coil murmured, "your phantom still kills."
Chrona continued, undeterred. "I involved the student council as well. They ran their own investigation. The results matched mine—nothing. If Nyxshade is here, she hides deeper than we thought. But…" Her gaze flickered toward Silas. "…we're skeptical she's even a student."
Silas's voice cut like a whip. "You involved the council?" He leaned forward, anger flashing now, the calm veneer stripped away. "We agreed—all instructors agreed—the protocol was confidential. No students were to know. Explain yourself."
Chrona did not flinch. Her jaw tightened, but her voice was steady, her words weighted with conviction.
"One of my colleagues, Tempestrike, was killed by Nyxshade. If she truly is a student here, then the council—students themselves—are more likely to notice subtle changes among their peers than we are. I will accept punishment, but not regret. If it means protecting my students, no price is too high."
The silence that followed was brittle.
Silas's lips parted, fury sharpening—
But Valkara lifted a hand. "Enough." Her tone was iron. "We need every pair of eyes. Every hand on deck. Chrona's judgment may not follow your rules, Silas, but her reasoning is sound. Heroes die when pride blinds us."
Silas's glare held, but the words struck deep. He sank back in his chair, his expression unreadable.
"Very well," he said at last, his voice measured but heavy. "The festival continues. Valkara, you and Coil will have your chance to prove your warnings right or wrong. Chrona…" His eyes pinned her, sharp as glass. "…after this is over, you will face the consequences. I don't care how noble your intentions were."
Chrona bowed her head slightly. "As you wish."
The holographic map flickered out, leaving the room dim once more. But the weight of what lingered hung heavy over them all.
The festival was no longer just games. It was bait.