Aden leaned back in his chair, one foot pressed against the bottom edge of his balcony rail. The distant glow of the academy's banquet hall pulsed like a headache. Music carried across the courtyard in soft, muffled bursts. Laughter too. All of it annoying.
He took a slow sip from his glass and let the burn settle in his chest.
Another banquet. Another pointless celebration. Another night where nobles pretended to be important.Tonight's excuse: welcoming the new Archmage Headmistress.
He wasn't going.
He rarely went anywhere anymore.
Aden let his eyes drift across the courtyard lights. The academy was everything he used to want. Prestige. Glory. Influence. All of it handed to him the day he was born. Aden Vasco. Heir of the strongest household. The prodigy. The sword genius.
He snorted quietly.
If they knew the truth, half the academy would choke on their wine. His core throbbed under his ribs like a damaged ember. The reminder was constant. Eight years since the incident and it still pulsed like something trying to tear its way out.
Only a handful of Vasco higher ups knew how broken he actually was.
Everyone else worshipped a myth that no longer existed.
Aden rubbed his forehead. "Should've gone to sleep," he muttered.
A faint clicking noise answered him.
He stopped.
Another sound followed, barely a whisper of movement. Something light brushing against wood. His body reacted instantly. His hand dropped the glass onto the carpet and wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed sword.
The noise came from his left.
Aden rose quietly.
His heartbeat slowed, steadying into the familiar rhythm it always took when danger crawled up on him. He moved across the room with controlled steps, eyes fixed on the window.
The curtains swayed gently.
A cold draft seeped in.
Aden's grip tightened. "I locked that," he whispered.
The lock was undone.
He scanned the corners of the room, under the bed, behind the wardrobe, ceiling beams. Everything looked still. Too still.
Then he saw the book.
It sat on his desk near the window, spine perfectly aligned with the wood, as if someone had placed it down with careful intention.
Aden frowned.
He hadn't left anything there.
He approached slowly, sword still drawn. The book wasn't old or worn. It wasn't covered in dust or wrapped in strange runes. It looked like something he might've grabbed from a bookshop because the cover wasn't boring.
Plain dark leather. Clean text.
Blades of Deception.
He picked it up with his free hand.No spark.No pulse.No magical residue.
Just a normal book.
He flipped it open.
The first chapter header read:
Chapter 17 – Winter's EveThe Fall of Aden Vasco
Aden blinked. "What?"
He read on.
On the night of Winter's Eve, the academy was shaken by tragedy. Claire Remes, a promising young mage, was discovered dead at the edge of the eastern forest. The primary suspect: Aden Vasco.
His heart thudded once.
He kept reading.
Although he was considered the strongest among the five heirs, Aden Vasco surrendered without resistance after being cornered by academy guards.
Aden froze.
Him. Surrendering.After a fight.Not happening.
He turned the page.
Witnesses later claimed he appeared exhausted and drenched in blood. Further investigation revealed numerous bodies inside Aden Vasco's private chamber.
Aden's fingertips went cold.
Bodies in my room?What is that supposed to mean?
He flipped to the next paragraph.
Though claims of his innocence circulated, it was ultimately concluded that Aden Vasco was framed.
The sentence lingered in the center of the page.
Then the letters softened.
Aden's eyes widened as the ink glowed faintly, the shapes melting to a soft silver.The words rose off the page like dust caught in sunlight and drifted toward him.
"What the. Hey."
The shimmering particles touched his skin and vanished into him.
Aden stepped back instinctively, but the book stuck to his hand as if he couldn't let go. He flipped back to the line.
It was gone.
Completely gone.
He turned the page again.The text blurred. Letters lost shape. Whole paragraphs dissolved into a faint whiteness, like wet ink washing off parchment.
Then the pages began to lift.
Thin, thread-like strands of pale light peeled from the paper and streamed directly into his chest.
Aden gasped as every vision hit him at once.
Claire screaming.Public hounds.Blood on snow.His own wrists in shackles.His name dragged through academy courts.Prison bars.The Public pulling strings from the shadows.His family crest burning.His reputation rotting away.
The book flickered in his hand, then collapsed into powder. The dust scattered across the floor and disappeared.
Aden staggered back, bracing himself against the desk.
"What the hell was that," he whispered.
He stood there, breathing hard, trying to piece everything together. The room was silent again. Uncomfortably silent.
Aden replayed the words in his mind:
Bodies inside Aden Vasco's private chamber.
He frowned slowly.
Why would investigators find bodies in his room unless
Unless someone was already
A faint scrape sounded behind him.
Aden's blood ran cold.
He spun.
Seven shadows detached themselves from the darkness.
And the fight began.