Adrian’s fingers trembled as he unrolled the scroll. The words on the page were penned in an elegant, flowing script, though it did little to soothe how his stomach twisted into a knot as his gaze locked onto the first line.
Adrian,
I hadn’t intended to involve you this early, but circumstances rarely wait for convenience.
Adrian’s brow furrowed deeply. Convenience? That’s rich coming from her.
Consider this an advance payment for the... clarifications I will make regarding Professor Damien’s little outburst. Though speaking of him, there’s something I need you to do for me.
His eyes darted over the page, devouring the contents despite the sinking feeling building in his chest.
There’s a matter requiring immediate attention. Go to the Luminal Archives, a secluded room just off the east wing of the library. There, you’ll find a hidden alcove near the third stained-glass window. Wait nearby, out of sight. Further details will come in time.
Do this, and we’ll consider the slate between us clean for the time being.
—M.F.
Adrian exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the parchment until the edges crinkled. “She really knows how to twist the knife." Clean slate, huh? Why do I feel like I’m the only one paying the price?
The raven perched on the windowsill let out a low caw, its glossy black feathers gleaming in the fading light. Its sharp, unblinking eyes locked onto him, as if urging him to hurry. In either case, it's probably bad form to refuse the Principal's first request outright.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re impatient,” Adrian muttered, his tone sharper than he intended. He reached for the quill and ink on the desk, dipping the nib carefully before scrawling a single word onto a fresh strip of parchment: Understood.
***
The Luminal Archives were located in a less-traveled wing of the academy. Adrian’s footsteps echoed softly as he approached an arched doorway. Inside, rows of towering shelves stretched into the gloom, the faint scent of aged parchment filling the air.
Hidden alcove, third stained-glass window. He repeated the instructions in his mind like a mantra, moving quickly but cautiously.
Adrian’s eyes scanned the area, catching sight of a subtle indentation in the wall nearby. There.
He moved closer, tracing the outline of the alcove. It wasn’t immediately visible, but a small recess offered just enough space for him to wedge himself into the shadows. He crouched low, his back pressing against the cold stone, and waited.
Adrian shifted slightly, his muscles already starting to protest from holding his position. Silence The silence hung heavy, broken only by the occasional creak of the library’s ancient wooden beams.
Dust motes danced in the faint moonlight spilling through the stained-glass windows, casting fractured hues of red and blue onto the floor. Adrian shifted his weight against the cool stone wall of the alcove, trying to find a position that didn’t numb his legs.
But as time passed, his eyelids drooped despite his best efforts to stay alert. How long am I supposed to wait here? What if this is all just some elaborate test?
He stifled a yawn and rubbed his arms, the drafty corridor gnawing at him. The minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and his focus wavered. His head dipped forward before a faint noise snapped him back to full awareness. He stiffened, the sound of footsteps echoing faintly down the corridor.
Adrian pressed himself further into the shadows, holding his breath as his heart thundered in his chest. The footsteps grew louder, reverberating like the tick of a clock. A figure emerged into the muted glow of the stained glass. Adrian’s stomach knotted as recognition hit him. He's here.
Professor Damien's coat swept behind him with each step. Adrian’s teeth clenched, his hands balling into tight fists against his sides. What’s he doing here? The urge to step out and confront Damien surged within him, but he forced it down. No. Not yet. Don’t blow it now.
Damien came to a halt by the third stained-glass window, looking over the corridor like a hawk searching for prey. His hand brushed the hem of his coat before crossing his arms, his expression unreadable but alert.
From the opposite direction came the faintest rustle, just enough to break the stillness. Adrian’s head whipped toward the sound, his heart lodging itself firmly in his throat as another figure approached.
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The first thing Adrian noticed was the cloak: a deep, rich red that rippled like liquid shadow. A cold shiver ran down his spine as recognition sparked in his mind. That’s the same color... the Mourne. What’s one of them doing here?
The cloaked figure stopped just short of Damien, their face obscured by the hood pulled low over their head. And for a moment, the two stood in tense silence.
“You’re late,” Damien said.
The hooded figure tilted their head slightly, the movement almost mocking. “I came as quickly as I could. This wasn’t exactly a short-notice arrangement, Damien.”
Adrian strained to catch every word, his breath shallow as he listened. He edged closer, keeping his movements controlled, the shadows of the alcove still concealing him.
Damien’s jaw tightened. “We don’t have time for excuses. Do you have it?”
The figure reached into their cloak with a gloved hand, pulling out a small vial. Even from his hidden position, Adrian could see the faint shimmer of its contents. That liquid… it seems similar to the one that Romulus drank all those years ago when I went to that ball with Natasha.
“This is what you wanted,” the figure said. “But remember—our agreement hinges on mutual discretion. If anyone finds out about this—”
“They won’t,” Damien interrupted. He reached out, taking the vial, before looking at it for a moment before tucking it into the inner pocket of his coat. “You’ve done your part. Now leave.”
“You’d better hold up your end. The Mourne don’t tolerate loose ends.” The figure said.
“I don’t need a lesson on your organization’s practices. You have what you need. Go.”
The red-cloaked figure stared for another beat before turning sharply on their heel. Their cloak swirled around them as they walked away, footsteps soft against the polished floor.
Adrian’s muscles tensed as the Mourne figure’s cloak disappeared into the darkness of the corridor. Should I follow Damien or that Mourne? Both of them are up to something, but Faesbane specifically asked me to wait here. She might not forgive me if I let Damien slip away.
He exhaled quietly, shifting his gaze back to where Damien stood. The professor’s posture was rigid, his arms now folded as though he were contemplating his next move. Damien’s the key here. The Mourne might be dangerous, but Faesbane trusted me to deal with him first.
Decision made, Adrian straightened, preparing to follow the professor. But in the instant he blinked, both figures vanished. The corridor was completely empty.
Adrian’s eyes darted from one shadow to the next. Damn it.
He pressed a hand to his chest, steadying his breathing. Think. You’re not out of options yet.. Mimi could help me track them down. If anyone can follow their trail, it’s her.
Yet, before Adrian could move, an instinctive chill prickled down his spine. He twisted his body sharply, just as the faint glint of steel streaked past his shoulder. The blade missed him by a hair’s breadth, clattering against the wall.
Adrian spun to face his attacker, his heels scraping against the polished floor. The Mourne figure emerged from the shadows, their crimson cloak rippling with their movement. A curved knife gleamed in their gloved hand, its edge reflecting muted light.
“Impressive reflexes,” the figure said, tilting their head as though appraising him. “Especially for someone so young.”
Adrian glared, his fingers twitching as he prepared to summon flames. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
The hooded figure ignored his questions, stepping forward. “Faesbane chose her pawn well. But a boy like you shouldn’t meddle in matters beyond his understanding.”
“Answer me!” Adrian demanded, his flames sparking to life. The brilliant blue glow bathed the corridor, illuminating the figure’s hooded visage.
In an instant, the Mourne lunged. Their blade arced toward Adrian’s chest with deadly precision. Adrian brought his hand up instinctively, conjuring a flame-shaped dagger in his grasp. The two weapons collided with a metallic screech, sparks flying as Adrian twisted his wrist to parry the strike.
The figure pulled back, and Adrians responded by stepping forward to press his advantage. His dagger flickered like a living flame as he struck low, aiming for the figure’s ribs. But they moved faster, deflecting the blow with a flick of their wrist.
“Not bad,” the Mourne said. “Your flames… they burn brighter than most. But let’s see how long you can last.”
The figure surged forward, their strikes relentless. Adrian was forced to retreat, his heels skidding against the smooth stone. His arms ached with each parry, the force of the blows reverberating up to his shoulders. But with every step back, Adrian’s determination hardened. I can keep up, this is winnable.
With a sharp twist, Adrian ducked low, his dagger sweeping toward the figure’s legs. The Mourne leaped over the strike with ease, landing lightly before thrusting their blade toward his throat. Adrian countered, flames erupting from his free hand to form a small shield that absorbed the attack. The force pushed them both apart, each staring the other down across the corridor.
Soon, the Mourne raised their hand, and the air shimmered like heat waves on a summer’s day. Adrian’s vision blurred for a split second, but he quickly blinked it away, tightening his grip on his dagger.
Something’s off. He stepped forward cautiously, his gaze locked on his opponent. But as he moved, his foot passed through the edge of the cloak lying on the floor. His eyes widened. An illusion?
The Mourne’s knife appeared from the side, slashing toward his midsection. Adrian barely twisted out of the way, the blade grazing his shirt. The figure’s laughter echoed eerily, coming from every direction.
Adrian whirled, flames erupting around him in a defensive ring. The corridor warped and distorted, the walls seeming to close in. “Where are you?!”
“That’s the problem with relying on your sight,” the figure’s voice taunted, disembodied now. “Illusions are my specialty, boy. And you’ve already lost.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched as the realization hit. I was careless… no, I just haven't had enough practice against illusion magic. That's definitely something I should brush up on.
He stood in the empty corridor, his dagger’s glow casting long shadows. They’re gone. But what was their connection to Damien? What was in that vial?