The corridors of the academy were quiet now.
Evening light spilled across the white marble floors, painting long amber streaks that faded into the shadows at each corner. Lauren Hi'orei walked alone, her heels echoing faintly with every step.
Her composure, flawless in Marlen's office, began to falter as soon as she turned the last corridor.
She reached her private chamber in the Student Union's wing and locked the door behind her. For the first time that day, her shoulders slumped. The confident mask — the calm, proud face of the Hi'orei clan's Second Miss— dropped away, leaving only the unease that had been gnawing at her since dawn.
She crossed the room in silence and stopped before her desk. The faint scent of jasmine from the incense bowl filled the air, soothing but ineffective. On the polished surface lay the second object that had haunted her all day — the black envelope, its seal broken but still faintly glowing.
Lauren sat, staring at it.
Then she whispered, "That wasn't Father's mana."
The thought had been clawing at her since the moment she first received it.
When the envelope had appeared — a quiet delivery through a private teleportation channel accessible only to her family — she'd been shocked. The Hi'orei Patriarch never contacted her directly. And yet the moment she'd touched the seal, her blood had responded. The mark of her lineage had pulsed, recognizing the emblem as genuine.
But the mana behind it... it wasn't right.
Hi'orei mana was like sunfire — radiant, dominating, unbending. This, however, had been colder. Still noble, yes, but layered with something deeper. Something she couldn't place. It had depth — like the abyss itself breathing through the lines of the seal.
She reached out now and traced the faint, still-warm wax with her fingertip. The runes shimmered faintly at her touch, the H glinting under the dim light.
"All inquiries into the fourth-floor disturbance are to cease immediately. The Academy is to take no action concerning the anomaly. Surveillance is to continue quietly, but no students or instructors are to interfere."
Those words.
She'd memorized them, recited them perfectly before Marlen.
But the way they'd formed when she read them aloud… it was as if someone else's will pressed through her tongue.
Lauren shuddered and withdrew her hand.
"Why would Father order such a thing?" she murmured. "And why through me?"
She leaned back, her thoughts swirling. The Hi'orei clan prided itself on strength and transparency. Her father, Lord Serion Hi'orei, would never obscure his intentions behind veiled messages. If he wanted the academy to withdraw, he would have sent an envoy or an official writ through the king's channels. Not a shadow letter through her private line.
Then again… she'd tested the seal's mana herself. It was genuine.
At least, technically.
"Unless…" Her brows drew together. "Someone found a way to forge the Hi'orei resonance. Or... a new leader has been chosen!" her expression became bright.
That would be the only way to explain it.
The Hi'orei sigil wasn't just a symbol — it was a living oath, bound by the bloodline's mana. Even other nobles couldn't imitate it; their magic would collapse trying to mirror the strain of it. But what if someone hadn't forged it — what if they'd reproduced it perfectly, as though it had come from the same origin? That was the only way.... if a new leader has been chosen and has awakened inside one of the clan members.
Lauren exhaled slowly, forcing her thoughts to settle. "No one could have done that… unless they were the clan head. I'll ask about it later." she thought to herself.
A low hum filled the air, faint but steady. She turned toward the side of her desk where a small mana crystal flickered, signaling a secure incoming message. Lauren placed her hand over it, and a faint holographic projection shimmered above the crystal — a blur of her father's steward, old Maenor, bowing low.
"Lady Lauren," the projection said. "Forgive the intrusion, but I wished to confirm — did His Grace reach out to you this week?"
Lauren's pulse skipped. "No direct communication. Only the message that came through the sealed channel this morning. Was it not from Father?"
Maenor looked confused. "From His Grace? No, milady. The Patriarch has been in seclusion for three days — undergoing resonance communion. No transmissions were sent from his quarters."
Lauren's fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. "Are you sure?"
"Completely, milady. I was personally assigned to oversee the wards. If a transmission had been made, the inner sanctum would have registered it."
Her heart sank.
Then the steward added quietly, "Is there a reason you ask?"
Lauren hesitated. Her mind raced — she couldn't reveal what had transpired here, not until she understood what she was dealing with.
"…No reason," she said softly. "Just a clerical matter. You may return to your duties, Maenor."
"Of course, Lady Lauren."
The image flickered out, leaving her chamber in uneasy silence.
Lauren rose slowly from her chair, her expression hardening as a cold realization began to settle. Someone had sent that seal. Someone powerful enough to imitate the Hi'orei signature so perfectly that even her blood accepted it as truth.
Her father hadn't silenced the investigation.
Someone else had — in his name.
She crossed to the window, parting the drapes to look down at the academy courtyard far below. The sun had set completely now, leaving the grounds bathed in the pale glow of moonlight. Students were returning to their dorms, mana lanterns flickering along the walkways like small constellations.
And there — near the edge of the field — she saw him.
Asher.
He walked alone, his figure quiet and deliberate, the evening wind tugging faintly at his hair. He wasn't speaking to anyone. He didn't seem to notice the others at all. But he did.
But as Lauren's gaze lingered, the faintest shimmer rippled around him — an unseen distortion in the air, like heat mirage over stone.
Lauren's breath caught. "That pressure…"
It was the same feeling she'd sensed when touching the false seal. A silent, layered mana. Familiar, yet untraceable — like something that didn't belong in this world at all.
Asher stopped, raising his head to meet her gaze to meet his cold, intimidating, icy gaze.
She stepped back from the window, her heart pounding softly in her chest. "No. It can't be. Is he actually.....?"
And yet, some part of her knew.
She stayed up late that night, the envelope lying open beside her lamp. Its faint silver glow had dimmed almost completely now — except for the "H", which still pulsed softly, once every few seconds, like a heartbeat.
Lauren's fingers brushed it one last time, and a whisper — almost inaudible — brushed through her thoughts.
"What sleeps must not be stirred again."
Her eyes widened. She hadn't imagined it. The voice was real — distant, hollow, and neither male nor female. A presence speaking through the seal itself.
She recoiled, knocking over her chair. The light flickered, then steadied.
When she looked down again, the seal had gone dark.
For the first time in years, Lauren Hi'orei — the prodigy of the Hunter's academy, Second Miss of the strongest clan in Valirin — felt the tremor of something she'd never known before.
Fear.
Night draped itself across the academy like a veil of still ink.
The moon hung high — pale, sharp, and cold — casting faint silver streaks over the ancient stone towers. The breeze had quieted, and even the mana currents that usually hummed through the academy grounds seemed subdued, holding their breath.
In one of the upper dorms, Asher sat alone.
He had extinguished the lamps long ago. The only light came from the moon filtering through the half-open curtains, falling in pale slivers across his desk and the small golden pendant resting there.
Asher leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming softly against the desk. His training earlier had gone smoothly — almost too smoothly. His reflexes had been sharper, his mana denser. Even his resonance control had improved beyond his own calculations. But beneath all that progress, the presence still lingered at the corner of his mind.
A faint…... pull.
It had been there all day, like usual — like the memory of a sound that shouldn't exist.
But now, in the silence of the night, it was growing louder.
He exhaled slowly. "What do you want?" he asked lazily.
No response. Only the whisper of wind brushing through the open window.
But Asher could feel it — pressing faintly at the edges of his mind. That formless presence, ancient and patient, coiled deep within the hollow of his consciousness.
He closed his eyes, steadying his breathing, letting his awareness sink inward.
Mana flowed through him — dark, smooth, and steady — swirling along his veins and converging behind his sternum. The moment he touched that center, the air shifted.
A faint tremor rippled through the room. The shadow under him started moving as if it was alive, slowly stretching out what looked like shadow tentacles.
His reflection in the window wavered — not distorted, but doubled. For an instant, another outline flickered over his own. A silhouette, vague and formless, as though a shadow had decided to breathe.
And then — the voice.
"…It stirs again, my dear." the feminine voice echoed seductively. The voice slid into the air like silk through water — smooth, low, unmistakably feminine. It didn't echo; it lingered, folding itself between his thoughts.
The shadows around him responded.
They shifted slowly along the walls, bending toward him as if gravity itself had changed. They didn't touch — but the air trembled, and he felt the faint pressure of something unseen, circling him with quiet intent.
"Oh,really?" Asher said, sarcasm evident in his words.
The voice was not quite sound. It existed between thoughts, sliding into the spaces his mind left unguarded. Each word carried weight — not heavy, but endless. Like a tide pressing against glass.
Asher opened his eyes, staring into the faint reflection of himself. "I can still feel you clawing against my consciousness in vain."
"I'll get what I want, eventually."
He almost smiled. "You think too highly of yourself."
"No," the voice purred. "I think too highly of you."
"I just want you to be mine, Asher." We will conquer this world together. You and I...we've both seen the darkness of this world. We can conquer it together..... as revenge for...."
"Stop!" Asher said firmly. "I want to know about the danger in the dungeon."
"Awwwwww....." it purred once more. "That place is not what they name it. The halls below your academy were carved long before your kind drew their first breath."
The edges of the room seemed to melt into deeper darkness. It wasn't frightening — not to him — but intimate, as though the whole world had folded into this single moment.
The shadows began to move again, slow and fluid, curling along the floor and wall — not reaching for him, but reacting to him, following the faint rhythm of his breathing.