The heavy wooden door creaked as Icarus stepped into his office, the air inside still thick with the lingering scent of old parchment and arcane ink. He sank into his chair, the exhaustion in his bones momentarily eased by the familiar creak of leather and wood beneath him. The weight of too many sleepless nights clung to his shoulders like a silent curse.
Across the room, Kirael hovered lazily above a pile of books, her feathers shimmering faintly in the tower's low light. She poked at the spines with her beak, leaving behind tiny glowing runes—her odd way of marking which books Icarus had finished. With the last task wrapped up, she fluttered to his desk and perched elegantly in front of him.
"So, Master," she chirped, cocking her head, "where's my new gem?"
It had become their unspoken deal—gems in exchange for peace and productivity. She was more bird than familiar sometimes.
"In two days," Icarus muttered, rubbing his temples.
Kirael squawked dramatically. "Two days? I should start looking for a new masters."
"You can't," Vireth's deep voice cut in from the high windowsill, where he sat like a silent gargoyle, eyes glowing faintly. "We get only one master—until death parts us."
Kirael huffed but didn't argue. The truth had a way of silencing even her.
Then the room shifted.
A dark fog slithered in through the cracks of the stone, curling like a living thing. The air chilled. Both familiars instantly stiffened, feathers and wings flaring defensively.
"Icarus!"Abigel burst through the dark, Umbros looming silently by his side like a second spine.
Vireth's wings ruffled in disdain the moment he saw Umbros. The two had never gotten along. Umbros, unbothered, stood still—his form melting into the darkness like it belonged there.
Kirael sneered. "Of course it took after you—so full of shadow and attitude."
"Did you find the diary?" Icarus asked sharply, his eyes focused.
Abigel shook his head. "I searched every corner. Nothing. It's gone."
A tense silence. Then, Abigel's voice lowered, tinged with something darker. "But something else happened."
"I know," Icarus said. "It's the curse, isn't it?"
Abigel stepped closer, his face grim. "It was like something… calling to Aria. Drawing her in. She was sleepwalking toward it, like in a trance."
Icarus's fingers curled around the armrest. His jaw tightened. "He's growing desperate."
"She didn't even realise it. It felt… wrong. Like it knew exactly how to reach her."
The room seemed to grow colder.
"We need to find Duke Raelin's diary," Icarus said, voice hard. "Before whatever's haunting her gets stronger."
"Are you talking about the old man with the black cat?" Kirael chimed in, her voice oddly quiet for once. Her wings folded carefully over her chest.
"You knew him?" Icarus asked.
Kirael didn't answer. She just started grooming her wing in silence.
Icarus sighed. "Would a red ruby make you more cooperative?"
At once, her eyes sparkled. "That old man used to leave his notes all over the place. But that cat—always burying things in the soil like some furry gravedigger."
"So… outside, then?" Abigel asked.
"No," Kirael said, sounding unusually serious. "Check his room. Inside. Under his bed. Maybe even inside the mattress. That cat loved hiding things in places no one ever checked."
"How do you know all this?" Icarus asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I've been around, boy. Watched more fools than I can count," Kirael said, puffing her feathers proudly.
"No. She just liked that black cat," Vireth grumbled, his tail twitching.
That was all it took. The moment the words left his mouth, a spark of fire leapt from Kirael's wings. Vireth hissed, and the two familiars launched into another noisy brawl, feathers and sparks flying.
Icarus barely spared them a glance.
"Hm. Now you know what I deal with, Abigel," he muttered, standing to grab a stack of sealed scrolls.
With barely a word between them, Icarus and Abigel stepped into the late Duke Raelin's chamber. The air was stale, thick with the scent of time and forgotten incense. Dust motes danced in the slanted light, disturbed only by their quiet movements.
Without hesitation, Icarus strode to the bed. He knelt and swept his hand underneath, his eyes narrowing as he studied the floorboards. Then he pulled back the worn rug with a sharp tug, revealing the cold, cracked stone beneath.
His fingers brushed over the surface… and the ground stirred.
As if summoned by recognition, the soil parted on its own—grain by grain shifting and sinking—until a small, timeworn book rose into his palm.
From the windowsill above, Kirael tilted her head, eyes gleaming with amusement."You found it, didn't you?" she chirped, almost smug.
Before Icarus could respond, a blur of shadow slipped silently into the room—a sleek black cat. Its fur shimmered like silk in the dim light, and its golden eyes locked onto Icarus.
"Finally," the cat purred. Its voice was low and oddly melodic. "You found it."
With graceful steps, it padded past Icarus and Abigel, straight toward Kirael.
"Thank you," the cat said softly.
Then, with a flick of its tail and a glint in its eye, it vanished—into thin air.
Kirael blinked.
"…Thank you?" she echoed, clearly offended. "That was it?"
She stared at the empty space where the cat had been, feathers slightly puffed. "After all these years, one polite thank you and poof?"
Abigel chuckled under his breath, but Icarus was already absorbed in the diary. His gloved fingers turned the ancient cover slowly, reverently. The pages were filled with coded glyphs, sigils that only a Tower Master could fully comprehend.
But something caught his eye—a hollow indentation in the center of the diary's spine. Circular, delicate, etched with arcane markings.
A perfect slot for something small.
"The brooch…" Icarus whispered, his eyes sharpening. "Where is it?"
Abigel glanced at him. "The one you found in the secret chamber?"
Icarus nodded. "Yes. It wasn't just decoration. It's the key."