The silence in the classroom was thick enough to press against Gray's chest. The teacher's voice, calm and methodical, drifted somewhere far away as words about strain theory and resonance diagrams blurred into meaningless hums. Gray's hand trembled against the desk. A faint trickle of sweat rolled down his temple. The air felt wrong—heavy, watchful.
He blinked, trying to focus, but the walls seemed to breathe. His pulse quickened. The faint echo of footsteps behind his mind refused to fade.
A gentle touch on his shoulder made him flinch. "Hey," Renn whispered, his eyes narrowing in concern. "You alright?"
Gray swallowed hard. "Not really." He tried to lower his voice, but it still shook. "I think someone's targeting me."
Renn's fingers tightened around his shoulder. His usual lighthearted expression faltered, and for a heartbeat, his eyes reflected genuine fear.
Before he could respond, the teacher paused mid-sentence and turned toward them. "Is something wrong back there?"
Gray opened his mouth, but Renn cut in immediately. "He's not feeling well, sir," he said quickly. "His...resonance's been unstable all morning."
The teacher hesitated, gaze darting between the two. For a moment, Gray thought he might question them further. But then the man sighed and gestured toward the door. "Take him to the nurse's room, Renn. Make sure he gets there safely."
Renn nodded without hesitation and stood, tugging Gray to his feet. They left quietly, the sound of their footsteps echoing down the empty hall.
Once they were out of sight and earshot, Gray exhaled sharply. "You didn't have to cover for me," he muttered. "I could've—"
Renn cut him off, his tone lower than usual. "No. You don't get it. I've been noticing something weird lately."
Gray slowed his pace. "Weird how?"
"The kids from the cafeteria," Renn said, glancing around the corridor as if expecting someone to appear. "The black-haired one and the blonde girl. I've seen them near us more times than I can count. They were in the history hall this morning, too."
Gray frowned, his thoughts snapping back to the quiet black-haired boy who had barely spoken a word, and the woman with the distant gaze. "It can't be a coincidence," he murmured.
"I don't think it is," Renn continued. "They've been following not just us, but Lira and Adel too. Keeping distance, pretending it's random."
Gray rubbed at his temple, trying to piece things together. "You think they're part of the group?"
Renn nodded slowly. "Yeah. Maybe not directly, but they're connected. It feels planned."
Gray's thoughts spiraled back to the events in the ruins—the decaying murals, the shattered altar, the hollow chant of an ancient name. "Then we need to figure out why," he said finally. "Let's head to the library."
The halls were empty. Too empty.
Gray's boots hit the polished floor in uneven steps as they rounded another corner. Every sound felt sharper in the silence—the hum of distant lights, the soft echo of their movements. Renn's breathing was quick and uneven beside him.
"Are you sure this is a good idea? Going to the library?" Renn muttered, glancing back over his shoulder.
"No," Gray said, his voice low. "But I can't sit through a lecture when I'm being hunted by cult lunatics."
Renn gave a shaky laugh. "You make that sound so casual."
Before Gray could respond, a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
"What are you two doing out of class?"
They both froze.
Seraphine Kaelith stood at the end of the corridor, her coat trailing faintly behind her like a shadow that moved of its own accord. Her gaze was unreadable—her navy blue eyes both sharp enough to slice through excuses.
Renn stammered first. "Uh—we were just—Gray wasn't feeling well, so the teacher said—"
Her gaze lingered on Gray. "You were in the nurse's office, then?"
Gray hesitated. "We… were on our way."
Seraphine sighed softly, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of too many sleepless nights. "So you told him...Follow me. Both of you."
'How the hell did she...nevermind' Gray and Renn exchanged looks but obeyed.
The walk to her office was quiet. The halls grew darker the deeper they went, lined with tall windows that revealed only the fog-shrouded skyline outside. When they finally reached a reinforced door marked with an old insignia—a fractured sun half-swallowed by darkness—Seraphine pressed her wristband to the scanner.
The door opened with a muted hiss.
Her office was nothing like Gray expected. It was large but dimly lit, the walls lined with towering shelves of old texts and metallic drawers marked with serial codes. A faint aroma of paper, ozone, and coffee hung in the air. In the center stood a wide desk, cluttered yet organized: reports stacked with precision, several unlit candles, and a small crystalline device that pulsed softly, releasing faint waves of blue light that shimmered like ripples in still water.
"Sit," she said simply.
Gray and Renn obeyed, taking the chairs opposite her desk. The moment they did, the door sealed behind them with a gentle hum, and the faint vibration of a barrier activating followed.
Seraphine sat down slowly, resting her hands together. "I assume you both have questions," she said, her tone level. "But let me begin with the situation as it stands."
Renn shifted uncomfortably. "Situation?"
"Yes." Her gaze moved between them. "The Fractured Dawn have already infiltrated both the Academy and the Sanctuary."
The words hit like a physical blow.
Gray sat straighter. Renn's face went pale. "What—how is that possible?"
"They are not what they once were," Seraphine said quietly. "They've adapted. Hidden themselves behind titles, scholarships, and funding grants. They recruit through secrecy and silence. And after last night's incident…" Her eyes flicked to Gray briefly. "We can no longer pretend they're distant."
Gray swallowed hard. "You're saying they're here. Inside these walls."
"Yes."
She turned the small crystalline device slightly. The light shifted, casting fractured patterns across the walls. "I have confirmed that the organization is searching for something—or rather, someone—within the Academy. They call this individual the 'Child of Dawn.' According to the fragments we've intercepted, this person is of great importance to them. A figure linked to an artifact they refer to as an Apple."
Gray's stomach turned cold.
"An artifact," Renn repeated faintly.
"Yes. Supposedly powerful. Possibly ancient. They believe it can awaken what they call the Dawn's Second Light."
Gray tried to breathe, but his chest felt tight. Every word pressed heavier on him. Child of Dawn. Apple.
He had a feeling that...he was the Child of Dawn. It only made sense, he qas the one with the Apple after all.
But before he could speak, something seized his throat. It wasn't physical—no hand, no pressure—just a constriction that came from nowhere, tightening until even the thought of speaking hurt. He tried to open his mouth, to say something, anything, but only silence escaped.
'What...the hell...'
Seraphine noticed immediately. "Gray? Are you all right?"
He forced himself to nod. Sweat ran cold down his neck. Whatever force was stopping him—it wasn't fear. It was something else. Something protective.
Renn frowned but didn't push it. He looked between the two of them before clearing his throat. "There's, uh… something else, actually. We've been seeing strange behavior around the Academy."
Seraphine tilted her head slightly. "Go on."
"The trio," Renn said. "The ones we saw in the cafeteria. The blonde girl, the quiet black-haired boy, and the white-haired one. They've been… following us. Not just us, though—everyone. Even other people. We thought it was coincidence at first, but they keep showing up. Every time we leave a room, one of them's nearby."
Seraphine's expression didn't change, but her silence was telling.
Gray frowned. "You've noticed too, haven't you?"
"I have," she said simply. "In fact, I suspect the same thing you do."
Gray's voice dropped. "Surely you don't think…"
"I do." Her eyes glinted faintly. "The white-haired boy is likely part of the group."
Renn blinked. "Wait, seriously? Then why hasn't he been—"
"Arrested?" Seraphine finished. "Because he's a royal."
The room went still.
Gray blinked, confused. "A… royal?"
"Yes. House Vesper, to be exact. Not a very old bloodline, but an important one from the Eastern Kingdom. Caer Thorne. His status complicates everything."
Renn rubbed his face. "Oh, perfect."
Gray tilted his head. "So what? Being a royal means you can't get in trouble?"
Renn gave him a tired look. "Gray, they don't get in trouble. They buy the definition of trouble."
Seraphine nodded. "An oversimplification—but accurate enough."
Renn leaned back. "That means interrogation is off the table, right?"
"Correct," she said. "No intimidation, no containment, not even surveillance without legal consequence. The Academy relies heavily on royal funding, and crossing one of their heirs could collapse several programs overnight."
Gray blinked. "So, what, we just let him walk around and hope he doesn't stab anyone?"
Renn sighed. "That's… basically the policy, yes."
Gray groaned softly. "This place is insane."
"Better get used to it," Renn said with mock cheer.
Seraphine ignored them both, standing to adjust one of the holographic displays on her wall. Lines of text scrolled across it—records, attendance sheets, fragments of intercepted data.
"I'm telling you both this because," she began, "officially, I can't investigate him. Not without risking more than I can afford. But unofficially…" Her gaze returned to them. "I need help."
Gray blinked. "Help?"
"Yes. I cannot monitor them, but you can. You, Renn, and if necessary, any of your classmates you trust. I want you to observe. Discreetly. Who they speak to, where they go, what they ask. The cult has eyes everywhere, and if we do nothing, more people will die."
Renn shifted nervously. "You want us to spy on royals? We'll be expelled."
"Not if you're careful," she said. "And not if you report only to me."
Gray looked between them, torn. "Why us? You've got soldiers, enforcers, people who actually know what they're doing."
"Because they're compromised," Seraphine said softly. "I don't know who I can trust. But you—" Her gaze fixed on Gray. "—you've already been targeted. Whether you like it or not, you're part of this now."
Gray wanted to argue, but the weight in her voice silenced him.
He thought of the man in the library, the whispers, the book, the blood. The feeling that something vast and ancient had noticed him. Maybe this was the only path left.
He nodded slowly. "All right. We'll help."
Renn groaned under his breath. "We are so dead."
Gray shot him a faint smirk. "You'll live."
"Barely."
Seraphine exhaled, relief flickering briefly across her features. "Good. Then here's where to begin." She picked up a thin data-slate and slid it across the table toward them. "Get closer to Lira Cael. The white-haired boy has been making obvious efforts to approach her. I don't know why. But she may be key to understanding what he wants."
Gray blinked. "Lira?"
"Yes. She's been unusually guarded since returning from the field. There's more she's not telling anyone."
He thought back to her distant mood lately—the way she'd avoided eye contact, the clipped tone when she spoke. Maybe it wasn't just stress. Maybe she knew something.
He nodded. "I'll try to talk to her."
"Do more than talk," Seraphine said quietly. "Watch. The cult's methods are subtle. A glance, a gift, a phrase repeated in conversation—it all means something. Be attentive."
Gray stood, pocketing the slate. "And if he's part of the cult?"
Seraphine's blue eye shimmered faintly. "Then you'll report to me before anyone else."
Renn stood as well, glancing at Gray. "This feels like the kind of thing people disappear for."
Gray forced a weak grin. "Good thing we're hard to get rid of."
Seraphine's voice followed them as the door hissed open. "Be careful. The walls here listen more than you think."
They stepped into the corridor, the door sealing behind them. The silence returned, heavier now, carrying the weight of everything left unsaid.
Renn let out a long breath. "So… we're spies now. Great."
Gray stared down the long hallway ahead, the fogged glass catching faint reflections of distant lights. "I guess," he said softly. "This week just gets worse and worse."