Asher walked to his locker, the clocktower's tick reverberating through Ouroboros Academy's stone corridors, a faint hum pulsing in his scars.
The halls buzzed with students, their chatter a dull roar, but the air felt heavy, like the Academy held its breath.
A classmate, Finn, jogged up, breaking Asher's haze. "Yo, Asher, got those sigil notes?" Finn asked, flashing a grin.
Asher rifled through his bag, handing over crumpled pages. "Here. Don't lose 'em."
"Legend," Finn said, clapping Asher's shoulder before darting off.
As Asher turned to his locker, a folded note slipped from the edge: Library, Elara. His pulse quickened.
Elara hadn't spoken to him since Morgan's death, her cryptic courtyard words lingering like a shadow. What did she want now?
Morning light poured through the library's stained glass, casting soft blues and reds to cloak suspicion.
Elara sat in a shadowed alcove, eyes scanning the empty stacks, fingers twitching on a worn book.
Asher approached, his scars prickling.
She looked up, her face tight with urgency.
"Asher," she said, voice low. "I've been waiting."
He slid into the chair, wary.
"You've been ghosting me since Morgan died. Why now?"
Elara's eyes flicked to the door. "Eyes were on me after his death—prefects, Talus. If I'd met you sooner, eyes would be on you too. I had to wait."
He winced. "I suspected"
"You've met him," Elara said, leaning closer, her voice a whisper. "Kal,"
Asher frowned. "No, my friends have. Not me. How do you even know him?"
Elara's gaze softened, almost pitying.
"Do you remember when Morgan told you about his sister in the observatory, how he came looking for her."
Asher's head throbbed, a sharper stab, like a locked door rattling in his mind. He clutched his temples.
"I can't... At the CCT I pushed past my limit, it cost me a memory. The only thing I remember is walking to the observatory, you, Morgan—nothing else. Did I meet him in the bathroom?"
"Yes," Elara said, her voice grim. "You did. Wow, that's scary, Morgan really said a lot that night."
Elara leaned closer, her words measured.
"The real truth behind Morgan's death was that, Morgan made a deal with Kal—his life for knowledge. A bargain. His time was due, But Morgan tried outsmarting him. So Kal killed him."
Asher's breath caught.
"What? How?"
"I know it's a lot to take in, but that's not even the real shocker," Elara continued.
"A friend of mine was there," Asher said, his voice low. "They saw it. Morgan just… talked to Kal. He didn't fight, what else is there to it."
Elara's eyes narrowed, but she didn't press.
"I'll tell you some other time but now. Morgan wanted you to keep going after he died. He believed you could stop Kal."
Asher's head stabbed again, sharp enough to make him gasp. He steadied himself. "Why me? besides we only met a day."
Elara slid a photo across the table, her fingers trembling. "I believe you have the other two notes, this is the last."
Eleven figures stood under a blazing sun, their outlines sharp. Beside him, a scarred figure mirrored Asher's own.
Pain lanced through Asher's skull, like a memory fighting to break free; he stifled a scream, clutching the table.
"You okay?" Elara asked, her voice sharp with concern.
"I'm fine," Asher gasped, the pain dulling to an ache. "What is this?"
"Morgan could see memories," Elara said, her words careful. "He turned them into chrono photocards. This is the Eleven—the first people with the time cancer, the academy doesn't talk about them for some reasons known to them alone."
Asher stared at the scarred figure, his scars humming. "How does this help me?"
"Kal's in it," Elara said, pointing.
"Right there, next to the scarred one—like you, I believe it's getting obvious and you are starting to understand that you can defeat Kal."
Asher laughed, bitter. "Me? I'm a loser, Elara. I can't even remember that night."
Her eyes blazed, fierce. "Morgan saw it, he knows you can, he is trusting you to finish this story."
Asher face was in disbelief, "I don't think I can".
"There's a journal," Elara said. "It was written by a student, about the Eleven. Morgan pinpointed it to the clocktower. I've searched, but I can't find it, and the eyes are growing nearer, I can't continue. I need you to find it, it could be a step closer to defeating Kal."
Asher groaned, rubbing his temples, the pain lingering. "The clocktower? Again? How's a journal even there?"
"It's bigger than you think," Elara said, her voice low. "More than stone and gears. It's your shot at Kal."
"How do you know it's real if you haven't seen it?" he pressed, doubt heavy.
"Morgan was sure," she said. "That's enough for me. Is it enough for you?"
Asher hesitated, the photo's scarred figure burning in his mind.
"I'll do it," he said, voice firm.
Footsteps broke the silence.
Yul strolled in, his smirk sharp as a blade.
"Since when do you waste time with first-years, Elara?" His eyes flicked to Asher, cold and piercing.
Elara stood, her face blank. "I'll explain that topic later," she told Asher, brushing past Yul.
Yul's gaze lingered on Asher, a silent threat, before he turned and left.
Asher clutched the photo, the scarred figure staring back, his scars humming like a warning. The clocktower's tick surged, sharp and loud.
In the quadrangle, Lira sat on a stone bench, sketching starlilies with quick, jagged strokes, her face shadowed with grief.
Her sketchbook trembled in her hands, the red ink bleeding into the petals like open wounds.
Nico approached, hands shoved in his pockets, his graying hair catching the morning light.
"Hey, Lira," he said, his voice soft, almost pleading, like he was reaching for something already slipping away.
"Hey," Lira replied, her tone cold, eyes glued to her sketchbook. She didn't look up, her pencil scratching harder, as if it could drown out the world.
Nico shifted, his boots scuffing the stone.
He swallowed hard, his voice unsteady. "I just… wanted to check in. It's been rough, I know. Since Victor. I'm here, Lira, if you need to talk."
Lira's pencil paused, her fingers tightening on the sketchbook. "I'm okay," she said, her voice softer but distant, a wall rising between them.
She glanced at him briefly, her eyes flickering with pain, then returned to her drawing, her strokes sharp and unsteady.
Nico's chest tightened, his words stumbling out. "Lira, I get it, you're hurting. We all are. But you're pulling away, and I— I just want to help. Like before, when we'd tell each other everything, and do things together."
Lira's eyes flashed, a spark of memory, but it faded fast.
"I can't, Nico," she said, her voice barely audible, cracking on his name.
"Not now. Not after… everything."
Nico stepped closer, his voice low, desperate.
"You don't have to do this alone. We're a team, Lira. You, me, the others—we face this together. Kal, the rift, all of it."
Lira shook her head, her voice hardening. "You don't get it, Nico. Kal's not done. I saw what he did to Victor. He is still out there"
Her eyes met his, raw with fear, then dropped back to her sketchbook, shutting him out.
Darel's voice cut through the tense air. "Lira! Over here!" He waved from across the quad, his grin bright against the Academy's gloom.
Lira's face softened, a fleeting smile breaking through, like sunlight piercing clouds.
She gathered her sketchbook, standing.
"Bye, Nico," she said, her voice flat, and walked to Darel.
Nico stood frozen, watching her go, his hands clenching into fists.
The ache in his chest deepened, a silent plea unanswered, his graying hair falling into his eyes as he stared after her.
Lira reached Darel, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
"Hope I didn't interrupt you and your friend," Darel said, his tone light but his eyes sharp, glancing back at Nico.
Lira's gaze flicked to Nico, still standing in the quad, his face a mask of hurt. Her expression shifted, a flicker of guilt.
"No," she said, her voice quiet. "You didn't."
Darel nodded, leading her toward the greenhouse.
"So, what you up to? Besides those starlily sketches that look like they're bleeding."
Lira's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Just… keeping busy. You? What's got you out here?"
"Greenhouse, mostly," Darel said, his grin fading. "Academy's pissing me off, though.
Kicked me out of prefect duties, now they're locking me out of places I used to own."
Lira's eyes softened. " This is all my fault you're not a prefect anymore, I'm sorry."
Darel stopped, turning to her, his voice firm.
"Stop that, Lira. Apologizing won't change it, and I don't really care as much as you think. I'm good."
She frowned, unconvinced. "I heard those boys yesterday, Darel. They were cruel. They said things about you."
Darel's jaw tightened, but he shrugged.
"Side effect of falling from grace. Let 'em talk. I'll shut them up eventually."
Lira's eyes blazed, her voice fierce. "Next time they say trash, I'm not standing by. I'll fight."
Darel grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Save that fire for Kal, yeah?"
Lira laughed, a small, genuine sound, her mood lifting for a moment.
"Maybe I will," she said, her smile fading as quickly as it came.
At the greenhouse, the keeper blocked their path, a grizzled man with sharp eyes.
"No entry today," he snapped, arms crossed.
Darel's jaw clenched. "Why not? What's going on?"
"You're in no position to know," the keeper said, his tone biting.
Darel's eyes flashed with anger, but he exhaled, forcing calm. "Fine. Let's go, Lira."
As they walked away, Lira's voice was firm.
"The Academy's trying to break you, Darel. Don't let them."
"I won't," Darel said, his grin sharp. "I'll climb back to the top, just watch."
"Till then, you're stuck with me," Lira teased, her smile warming, a rare light in her eyes.
Darel raised an eyebrow, sarcastic. "Oh, yayy."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lira laughed, shoving his arm.
Their laughter echoed, a brief spark in the Academy's shadow.
Darel's tone softened, his eyes searching hers.
"I don't want to pretend like I don't see it but I see you avoiding your friends, What's going on?"
Lira's gaze dropped, guilt etching her face.
"I see it too, it's just that. Kal's not done with me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I saw what he did to Victor—he drained the life out of him. If they keep caring ". She paused " I can't lose them too."
Darel stopped, meeting her eyes.
"What about me? You think I'm safe from Kal? That I won't die protecting you?"
Lira's lips twitched, almost a smile.
"You'll survive. Ninety-nine percent sure, and also you made a deal to protect me until this was over."
He laughed, shaking his head.
"Ninety-nine, huh? Bold. If that's what you want, fine. But have you ever thought of how your friends feel, don't you think they should understand."
Lira's smile faded, her eyes distant, clutching her sketchbook like a shield.
"I know," she said, her voice cracking. "But it's safer this way. For them."
Darel sighed, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Safer for them, maybe. But you're not alone in this, Lira. You don't have to be."
She looked away, her voice barely audible. "I'm not sure I can take that chance."
Asher sat alone in his classroom, Morgan's photo in pocket, the scarred figure staring back.
A sharp pain stabbed his head, like a memory clawing to surface, but it faded.
Elara's words echoed—the journal, the Eleven, Kal.
Time is running out.