Selia Glassveil had always trusted truth.
Not her instincts. Not her heart. But the pure, unbending clarity of the truth-sight her bloodline carried. It was what had earned her the silver insignia of the Absolute Gaze. What kept her grounded when illusions clawed at reason.
But Rowan Edevane was different.
He didn't hide his lies.
He flaunted them.
Worse—people believed him anyway.
And now, Selia no longer trusted her sight. So she relied on the next best thing: observation.
---
Selia began her secret investigation quietly. She altered her schedule to avoid suspicion, using her Seer Eyes only at twilight when light distortion would mask the glow.
She targeted the professors.
Professor Tellmoor, illusionist. A known sympathizer of the Veiled Path.
She found books in his chambers referencing the Black Jest, a pre-Arcane cult devoted to "unmaking truths." The same cult once dismantled by the Absolute Gaze two centuries ago.
Worrying.
Then came Master Caelor, enchanter.
She caught him whispering to enchanted mirrors in forgotten dialects—Reverse Cant, a language used in secret cult rituals.
Even worse.
But most concerning was High Arcanist Vyne.
Selia observed him standing for hours before a blank wall in the East Wing.
Each time, he would say a phrase:
> "Let the laughter echo within."
And the wall would ripple.
When Selia approached the wall alone, she saw nothing.
So she left a trail of rune-dust.
The next night, the dust was gone—wiped in a spiral.
A spiral—the symbol of Gilded Mask initiation.
---
Selia compiled the data in a hidden codex:
Tellmoor: Cult historian.
Caelor: Ritualist.
Vyne: Active practitioner.
Rowan? Catalyst.
She didn't know whether Rowan was willingly involved—or simply the spark they were using.
She needed answers.
So she approached someone she had once avoided: Lilith.
---
The Cursecrafter's Sanctum was part laboratory, part nightmare. Shelves of bottled whispers, cursed spoons, and insects that dreamed in Latin.
Lilith didn't look up as Selia entered.
"I was wondering when the Seer would finally knock."
"You've been watching me?"
"No. Rowan told me you would come."
Selia frowned. "Why?"
"Because you're not looking for truth anymore," Lilith said, setting down a bubbling skull. "You're looking for the cracks in it."
Selia sat.
"I need to know who's turning this academy into a stage."
Lilith smirked. "Rowan didn't do that. Arcanum was always a stage. He just lit the spotlight."
---
That night, Selia stood on the East Wing's roof, watching the stars shift.
She wasn't sure what was real anymore.
But she was sure of this:
The professors were hiding something.
Rowan was involved.
And soon, the world would laugh—or burn.
END OF CHAPTER 13