The Academy grew quiet at night.
By day, its courtyards thrummed with voices, laughter, and the clash of elemental training. By night, lanterns burned low, students retreated to towers, and the sprawling campus became something else—solemn, secretive, alive with whispers.
Thaddeus Moon preferred it that way.
Shadows curled around his boots as he crossed the marble halls leading to the Great Library of Elysium. He moved silently, katana at his side, silver hair catching moonlight through high windows. Most students avoided the library after curfew—their fear of the librarians' sharp eyes or the penalties for breaking rules kept them away. But Thaddeus was not most students.
The prophecy gnawed at him. He had grown up hearing fragments of it, warnings passed in hushed tones, but here at Elysium the whispers were louder, more insistent. He needed answers, not hearsay. And answers, he knew, hid in the library's forbidden stacks.
The Great Library stretched like a cathedral of knowledge. Towers of shelves rose to the vaulted ceiling, their wood dark with age, their spines glowing faintly with enchantments. Lanterns of soft white flame hung in midair, casting halos of light onto reading tables below. At its heart lay the Sealed Archives, a circular chamber walled off with iron doors, etched with glyphs that shimmered faintly when approached.
Thaddeus paused, shadows pooling around him. The library felt heavier at night, like the weight of centuries pressed down with every step. He scanned the shelves, eyes catching titles on elemental theory, the rise and fall of noble houses, and volumes marked with the Academy's crest. The prophecy was here somewhere. It had to be.
As he walked deeper, shadows brushed against the shelves like fingertips, guiding him. He passed a row of tomes bound in cracked leather. One caught his attention: Celestial Cycles and Elemental Convergence. He slid it free, dust motes dancing in the air. The book's pages trembled faintly as though resisting his touch.
He opened it. The text within shifted like smoke, lines fading and reappearing, ink swimming into new forms. It was… altered. His shadows recoiled. Someone had tampered with this book. Someone who did not want the prophecy remembered as it was.
He read what little remained legible: "…when sun and moon converge… eclipse shall mark… balance undone or remade… Rank Ten…" The rest was blackened, words consumed as though burned from the page.
His hand tightened on the binding. The cult. It had to be. Who else would alter history itself?
"You shouldn't be here."
The voice was cool, steady, carrying the faint lilt of command.
Thaddeus closed the book slowly and turned. Emily Solgard stood in the lanternlight, her white-and-gold gown shimmering faintly, blonde hair catching the glow. Her blue eyes were sharp as polished steel, assessing him with calm calculation.
He did not flinch. "Neither should you."
Her lips curved faintly. "I could say I came here to study. You, however… look like a thief caught in the act."
Shadows stirred at his heels, bristling at her words. Thaddeus met her gaze evenly. "Studying. Seeking. Stealing. Call it what you will. I look for truth."
Emily stepped closer, hands clasped loosely before her. "And what truth is that? The prophecy?"
He raised a brow. "You speak it aloud without hesitation. Most flinch from the word."
Her eyes did not waver. "I grew up hearing it every day. Sun and Moon. Eclipse. Destiny. My family has always taught me it is a warning. Yours, I suspect, calls it a promise."
The shadows hissed softly, like whispers in the dark.
Thaddeus tilted his head. "And what do you believe, Emily Solgard?"
She paused, considering. Then, quietly: "I believe the prophecy is not about destiny. It is about power. And power is claimed, not foretold."
The words cut deep. For a moment, Thaddeus saw not a rival, not a betrothed, but something else: a girl born into light, bound by family legacy just as he was. A mirror, of sorts, though one reflecting sunlight instead of shadow.
But before he could respond, footsteps sounded against the marble.
Serenity Clearwater stepped softly into the chamber, her gown pale blue, her long hair cascading like water. Her eyes flicked between them, calm but unyielding.
"I thought I might find you here," she said to Thaddeus, though her gaze lingered briefly on Emily.
Emily straightened, her composure sharpening like a blade. "Clearwater."
"Solgard."
The exchange was brief but heavy, two currents colliding without touching. Serenity stepped closer to Thaddeus, her voice even. "The library holds more dangers than answers. Some books here are poisoned—not with ink, but with intention. Be careful."
Thaddeus' shadows coiled tighter. "You knew?"
Serenity nodded once. "My family studies water's memory. We know when rivers have been diverted, when tides no longer flow as they should. These texts… they have been altered."
Emily's eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze turning back to the shelves. "You would believe the world rewritten by shadowy hands? Convenient, isn't it? A prophecy so vague it can be shaped to fit any cause."
Serenity's tone remained calm. "Vagueness is not falsehood. It is a reflection. What you see depends on where you stand."
Thaddeus remained silent, listening, measuring. The two heirs regarded each other like duelists circling before the first strike. And he stood between them, the fulcrum of prophecy neither could ignore.
Finally, Emily turned, her expression unreadable. "Be careful, Moon. Shadows may blind you as surely as sunlight blinds me." With that, she left, her footsteps fading into the hall.
Serenity exhaled slowly, then looked at him. "She is not wrong. But she is not right either."
Thaddeus studied her. "And you? Where do you stand?"
Her blue eyes met his silver. "Beside you, if you'll let me. At least… for now."
Hours later, Thaddeus returned to the Moon Tower. Aurora was waiting in the study, silver hair unbound, a candle burning low beside her. She did not look up from the scroll she was reading as she spoke.
"You were in the library."
Thaddeus removed his cloak, shadows sliding from his shoulders. "You always know."
Aurora set the scroll aside, her gaze sharp. "I know more than you think. I know Emily was there. And Serenity."
His jaw tightened. "And?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You tread dangerous ground. The Solgard heir is bound to you by politics and rivalry. The Clearwater heiress… she could be an ally, perhaps more. But neither will walk with you without cost."
Thaddeus paced to the window, looking out over the silver-lit academy. The shadows whispered, restless, unsettled.
Aurora's voice softened, though it lost none of its edge. "Brother… shadows are loyal. People are not. Do not let either chain you."
He turned, silver eyes hard. "I will not be chained. Not by prophecy. Not by Solgard. Not by Clearwater."
Yet even as he spoke, Serenity's calm voice lingered in his mind. Beside you, if you'll let me.
Aurora extinguished the candle. The room plunged into shadow, and the last whisper of light caught her silver hair before darkness claimed it. "We shall see," she said quietly.
The shadows stirred then, a final whisper brushing against Thaddeus' ear: Rank Ten has been sought before. And found.
His hand tightened on the katana hilt. The prophecy was no longer a distant echo. It was here, alive in the walls of Elysium. And someone was already chasing its end.