Ashenwell Academy at night was a different creature.
The lanterns dimmed to a low, pulsing glow—like the walls were breathing. Shadows lengthened in ways they shouldn't, stretching past corners and creeping along spires. Even the wind outside the towers seemed careful, whispering rather than howling.
Grim lay awake in his bunk, staring at the ceiling as the silence pressed in like weight.
"Still thinking about Mister Snake Smile?" Sparks murmured, voice low, amused.
"No. Just… listening."
"To what?"
Grim turned his head. "This place hums."
He was right. Beneath the walls, something faint thrummed. A low-pitched, magical frequency—constant, unnatural.
Sparks sharpened. "That's not normal resonance. That's an Echo grid. Someone's monitoring aura signatures."
Grim sat up slowly. "I thought Kaia said our room was sealed."
"It is. But if they're scanning the halls, then someone's paranoid. Or hunting."
He stood and crossed to the window. Outside, flickers of movement—a few students slipping between buildings, hooded and hurried. Grim narrowed his eyes.
"Night classes?"
"Too quiet. Too fast."
A flicker on the far roof. A shadow moved—graceful, but predatory.
Grim stiffened. "That's not a student."
⚙️ Ashenwell Archives: Restricted Section
Down below, deep under the main towers, a different scene unfolded. A girl in frost-trimmed robes slipped past two echo-sentry glyphs, breath sharp in the cold.
Lys.
Her eyes were silver-bright, her presence calm but feral under the surface—like ice waiting to shatter.
She placed her palm against a hidden sigil etched into obsidian. It flared with sapphire light. The wall split with a hiss, revealing the Vault of Origins.
Books. Relics. Forbidden memory-tech.
Lys moved with purpose, fingers trailing along the bindings until she stopped at a cracked tablet bound in chains of froststeel. A name etched on it in deep glyphs: Nullbind.
She whispered to herself, voice low, half in another tongue.
"They're already waking."
Then, she turned—because she felt it too.
A presence behind her.
A whisper not meant for ears:
"The glitch burns brighter than you think."
Lys bared her fangs, just for a second. Her beast-side, royal and dangerous, flickered under her skin like lightning behind clouds.
And then she was gone.
💤 Back in the Dorm
Grim stepped away from the window, pulse still steady, but his thoughts spiraling.
"We're not the only ones hiding something here."
"Nope," Sparks agreed. "This place is practically built on secrets. And I hate being the smallest one."
"We need to be careful."
Sparks paused.
"I can mask us better during sleep. Block our resonance, bury our aura signature in the ambient noise. It'll drain me a little, but I'll recharge."
"Do it."
A moment passed in the quiet.
Then, Grim asked, "You ever feel like we're being drawn here? Like it's not just about survival?"
"Yeah," Sparks said quietly. "I think this place is a fuse. And we're the spark."
💬 Cutaway – The Upper Tower, Night
Master Halven stood alone at a window high above the campus, robes fluttering in wind that didn't come from any window.
Zevrine appeared behind him—his form glitching between youth and old age.
"You adjusted the records," Zevrine said.
"I protected a student," Halven replied calmly.
Zevrine tilted his head. "You protected a potential ignition point. If the others find out…"
"They won't. Not yet. Let him stabilize."
Zevrine's eyes flickered, glowing faintly.
"And if he doesn't?"
Halven looked down at the academy, where lights began to die for curfew, and shadows grew deeper.
"Then we pray that flame doesn't burn through the fabric holding this place together."