Gray's legs barely carried him. Each step through the empty corridor felt heavier than the last, as though the air itself conspired to slow him down. His hand pressed against his side, trying to stop the bleeding, but the warmth still seeped between his fingers. The silence was complete. Even the usual hum of the lights seemed to have vanished.
He could still feel the ghost of that blue light behind his eyes. The book's whispers had not left him; they slithered at the edge of hearing, too faint to make sense of but too persistent to ignore.
The door to his quarters appeared like salvation. He scanned his wristband, the scanner flaring weakly before the lock released. The door slid open with a hiss.
He stepped in and froze.
Someone was sitting by his bed.
The faint light of his room, barely strong enough to reach the corners, caught on pale hair and motionless shoulders. The chair she sat in wasn't his. It hadn't been there before.
"Close the door," a woman's voice said.
Her tone was quiet, but it allowed no hesitation.
Gray did as he was told. The door sealed behind him with a soft click. He stood still, heart thundering.
Seraphine Kaelith.
She didn't move. The low light brushed across her face, catching on the strange contrast of her eyes—one black as night, the other a glacial blue that shimmered faintly, like frozen lightning. Her presence was overwhelming in its stillness. She didn't need to threaten. The silence around her was enough.
'Ahh shit, this day just gets worse and worse.' He took deep breaths, attempting hiding any expression of fear.
"Sit," she said.
Gray hesitated. His mouth was dry, his pulse hammering in his ears. "How did you—"
"Sit."
He obeyed. The chair by the desk groaned faintly under his weight. Every muscle in his body screamed, but the pain felt distant, dulled by exhaustion and fear.
Seraphine's gaze never left him. For a long time, neither of them spoke. The soft hum of the ventilation unit filled the silence, a thin thread of sound against the weight of her presence.
Finally, she spoke. "You were in the library tonight."
It wasn't a question.
Gray swallowed. "Yes."
"After it was locked up."
He nodded, the motion small. "There was… something calling me. I don't know how to explain it."
"Try."
Her voice didn't change tone, but it sliced cleanly through him. He took a breath and began to speak.
He told her everything. The whispers that had drawn him in. The book that seemed alive, humming beneath his fingertips. The man who appeared from the shadows and attacked him without a word. The way the fight had ended — the freezing air, her arrival, and the look in her eyes when she'd seen the book.
Seraphine listened in complete silence. Not once did her expression shift. When he finished, she leaned back slightly in the chair, her fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the armrest.
"Did you know him?" she said.
Gray blinked. "Who?"
"The man who attacked you."
He hesitated, remembering his words.
"I...didn't know him, but he acted as if he knew me." His voice quiet.
For the first time, something changed in her expression. Barely perceptible, but it was there, a flicker of recognition, quickly buried beneath the same icy calm.
"I see," she murmured. Her voice had turned distant, almost thoughtful.
Gray shifted in his seat. The silence stretched. "Do you know him?" he asked finally.
Seraphine's gaze returned to him. "You do not need to know."
"But... he tried to kill me."
Her tone dropped, quieter but somehow sharper. "And yet you live. You got yourself that mess by sneaking into the library."
Gray's hands clenched against his knees. Ignoring her comments."You knew him, didn't you? You recognized that mark."
Her eyes flicked upward. For a moment, he thought she might strike him, not out of anger, but to end the conversation entirely. But then, to his surprise, she sighed.
"I have no reason to tell you," she said.
The words chilled him. There was no threat in her voice, but they left no room for argument. He wanted to ask more, to demand an answer, but something in her gaze told him not to.
She rose slowly from her chair. The movement was smooth, graceful, controlled. She walked toward the narrow window, where faint light from the distant towers spilled across the floor.
After a long pause, she spoke again. "He was part of a group. An organization that once moved beneath the eyes of the generations. You might call it a culture, or perhaps a faith. They called themselves the Fractured Dawn."
The name hung in the air like smoke.
Gray's breath caught. "The… what?"
"The Fractured Dawn," she repeated. "You may have heard of them, though most records have been purged. They were almost worshipped during the Second Generation. Scholars, mystics, believers of a kind. But by the Third, they had all but vanished. Only in recent months have they begun to stir again. But even those were but rumors."
Gray's mind raced. The man's words echoed back at him. "The Apple… give me the Apple."
'The Apple of the Waning Dawn,' he thought. The connection formed instantly. 'That relic I have—he knew I had it.'
He looked up. "You said they vanished. Why would they return now?"
"That," she said quietly, "is what no one knows. The three kingdoms have tried to uncover their purpose, but every attempt ends the same. Disappearance. Silence. The few who speak of them… do not stay sane long enough to finish."
Her words crawled under his skin. He could feel it, the truth she wasn't saying.
After a moment, she stepped closer, her boots making no sound against the metal floor. "Tell me," she said. "Are you affiliated with them?"
Gray's eyes widened. "What? No. I didn't even know they existed."
Her stare pinned him where he sat. He felt like she could see through him, reading his heartbeat, his breath, every flicker of doubt. The silence dragged on, unbearable.
Finally, she blinked. "Good."
Gray's lungs released the air he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
She turned away, gaze drifting once more toward the narrow window. "I do not know much about them either," she said softly. "Even within the city of dawn, their name is forbidden. What remains are fragments—mentions of the Child of the Dawn, an Apple, and a promise that something would one day return."
"The Child of the Dawn," Gray repeated under his breath. "That's what he said… or something like it. What does it mean?"
Seraphine didn't answer immediately. Her silhouette stood framed against the faint light, her expression hidden. When she finally spoke, her voice carried something deeper—not cold, but tired.
"I don't know," she said. "And that should worry you more than if I did."
Gray frowned. "So you don't know what they're after? Or what the Apple is supposed to do?"
"The Apple, I'm not sure what it is, but i know that it is an artifact, an ancient kne at that." She said quietly.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Then... why are they searching for it?
Her eyes flicked toward him, sharp again. "Once again, if I knew the answer, the problem would've been resolved long ago."
The room fell silent once more. The air felt thinner now, colder.
Seraphine stepped closer. Gray could see the faint shimmer of Vyre tracing along her arm, pulsing in rhythm with her breath.
"I am surprised you survived that encounter," she said after a moment. "A Rank Two, at least. You should not have been able to stand against him."
Gray let out a shaky laugh. "I didn't stand. I ran."
"Running is still surviving," she said. "Few can claim as much."
Her expression softened—barely, almost imperceptibly. But then it vanished, replaced by the same unreadable calm. She reached out, brushing her hand lightly against his shoulder.
Gray flinched.
Her touch was cold. Colder than ice.
"Do not let this happen again," she said. "The next time you go where you shouldn't, I will not arrive in time. Keep that in mind, Gray."
Before he could respond, her hand shifted—a quick, precise movement against the side of his neck.
A flash of numbness flooded his body. His vision blurred instantly.
He tried to speak, but no sound came out.
The last thing he saw was Seraphine's eyes—one black, one blue, watching him fall.
Then darkness claimed him.