The Academy felt different today. Not because the white stone corridors looked dimmer or the echo of footsteps had changed, but because the air itself was thick, heavy, weighted with something unseen. Every glance felt sharper, every murmur carried weight. Ever since the duel, Erevan felt it pressing against him like water deep beneath the surface, silent, unrelenting, crushing against his chest.
Students didn't just whisper anymore. Their eyes followed him with subtle shifts—sidesteps, almost imperceptible flinches as he passed. Even the instructors were different. Master Deymour's gaze lingered longer than usual, measuring him, weighing him. Other masters hesitated, polite tones carrying an edge of caution, a tremor he could sense even in their smallest inflections.
Do you feel it? Harrax's voice coiled in his mind, silk over a knife's edge. Every step, every breath—they sense it. You are no longer invisible. You carry a weight they cannot name.
Erevan's fingers curled into the rough weave of his robe sleeves. The fabric bit into his palms, grounding him just slightly, but it did nothing to calm the roaring in his chest.
I didn't want them to see, he whispered, voice nearly lost beneath the echo of his own steps.
Oh, but you did, Harrax purred, curling through his thoughts like smoke. A few threads of shadow, a flicker of fear, and they recoil. Even Cassian.
The mention of the golden boy's name made his stomach twist. That tiny crack, the minuscule fissure in Cassian's perfect composure during the duel—Erevan had seen it. A pulse of satisfaction had flared briefly before fear sank back in. If Cassian suspected, he would not rest until he had pried the truth loose. Cassian never allowed a loose end.
The library's great oak doors loomed ahead, a sanctuary of silence. Erevan slipped inside, breathing in the dry, warm scent of old parchment, dust, and ink. It wrapped around him like an old blanket. Even here, the faint pressure of unseen eyes lingered in corners, but fewer dared disturb the peace of stacked parchment.
He sank into the shadowed alcove among older stacks, notebook open but blank, quill poised yet useless. Words felt heavy, each letter a struggle. His thoughts crowded with voices—the students' whispers outside, the faintly judgmental hum of instructors, and the ever-present, ever-taunting Harrax.
You think hiding here will change anything? the shadow murmured, curling lazily around his skull. The library is a cage with no bars for truth. You are mine, and they sense it. You cannot run. You can only pretend.
I am not yours, Erevan muttered, voice shaking. He pressed his palm to the page, hoping the cool parchment would anchor him. I never asked for this.
You begged for it, Harrax whispered back, laughter faint, like water trickling over stone. On that night, when desperation drew your circle and you called, I answered. Who else? No spirit, no guardian—only me. And yet you resist, as always.
A bead of sweat traced down his temple. He pulled back from the notebook abruptly, as if it might judge him.
A soft shuffle of footsteps made him stiffen, heart hammering. Aria appeared at the edge of the alcove, balancing a precarious stack of tomes. Her violet eyes widened imperceptibly as they landed on him. They lingered on the dark circles under his eyes, the ink stains on his fingers, the robe hanging loose from restless nights.
Erevan, she said softly, voice gentle yet cautious.
He forced out her name. Aria.
She placed her books on the table, gaze scanning his face as if trying to read a story he would not tell. I saw what happened in the arena, she said quietly. Everyone did. I just… I wanted to check if you're alright.
A bitter laugh clawed at his throat, but he swallowed it. That was Aria—kindness wrapped in caution. Even so, her eyes held a flicker of unease, not fear yet, but hesitation.
I'm fine, he said flatly, snapping the notebook closed.
Her brow furrowed. Erevan, that wasn't any summoning I've ever seen. The System couldn't even—
Don't, he cut sharply, voice rougher than he intended. She blinked, startled, and for a fleeting moment he wished he could take back the words. But Harrax's laughter thrummed in his mind, mocking restraint.
I don't want to talk about it, he finished, voice low but firm.
Silence stretched, heavy, broken only by the faint creak of the library floor and rustle of parchment.
Aria stepped back, brushing her hands lightly along the edges of the books. Alright, she said softly. But if something's wrong, you can come to me.
Erevan wanted to laugh bitterly at the impossibility. If only she knew the truth, the shadow that whispered, the hunger curling in every corner of his mind. Instead, he nodded, avoiding her gaze. She lingered a moment longer, then left, the soft thud of footsteps fading into the hall.
Harrax's voice slid along his nerves, velvety and gleeful. She pities you, vessel. She senses the shadow you wear and calls it sorrow. How quaint. How easily she would cradle you while recoiling from what lurks beneath your skin.
Shut up, Erevan hissed, pressing his hands to his temples. His voice cracked. A student passing by shot a startled glance and hurried on.
When he finally staggered from the library, the corridors felt narrower, the whispers sharper, the glances heavier. Anomaly. Dangerous. Cursed. The words floated just beyond hearing.
Rain had begun to fall as Erevan stepped into the courtyard. Cold, relentless, each drop hammering against his cloak, soaking through to his skin. The sound was sharp, staccato, echoing off stone walls that seemed to press inward. He felt every shadow in the courtyard weighing down on him, every corner of the academy watching, sensing, waiting.
He wrapped his arms around his satchel, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Each step dragged, heavy with dread. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harrax purred, coiled and eager.
The golden boy is near, vessel. He has scented your marrow. How long before he bares his teeth? And will you show him the full truth if he asks?
Erevan shivered, pulling his cloak tighter. Rain soaked his hair, chilled his skin, but nothing compared to the storm swirling inside him. The courtyard had emptied of students by now, leaving puddles of rain reflecting slate-grey clouds that hung low, oppressive. The world outside mirrored the turmoil in his chest.
A voice cut through the patter, smooth and deliberate.
Erevan.
The syllable struck like a blade. He froze.
Cassian stood at the base of the stair, ceremonial blade at his hip, posture impeccable, silver trim catching the muted light. Behind him, two companions lingered at a careful distance, silent sentinels. Cassian's expression was unreadable, but the subtle tension in his stance screamed caution, control, readiness.
Erevan's pulse spiked. The whispers that had clung to him all day felt amplified, coiling tight around his mind.
I'd like a word, Cassian said. Smooth. Formal. Unyielding.
Erevan's mouth went dry. He wanted to vanish, disappear into corridors, become invisible again—but his feet refused to move.
Cassian descended slowly, measured, eyes fixed on him. Every step brought a faint weight, a subtle pressure that made the rain feel sharper, colder against Erevan's burning skin.
That thing you summoned, Cassian said, voice low. What was it?
Erevan's throat tightened. I told the instructors, he muttered, weakly. I don't know.
Cassian's gaze sharpened, steel threading through warm curiosity. Don't lie. The wards nearly broke. My spirits recoiled. The System couldn't classify it. No one has ever seen anything like it. And you expect me to believe you don't know?
I don't! Erevan snapped, louder than intended. Rain stung his eyes as he blinked, fists trembling at his sides.
Cassian tilted his head, studying him like a puzzle. A faint, almost predatory smile brushed his lips—not mockery, but curiosity. Perhaps you don't know. But something bound itself to you. Something outside the System. And if you won't tell me… He leaned in, whispering, I'll find out myself.
A shiver raced down Erevan's spine. Shadows at the edges of his vision twitched, curling like living things. Harrax stirred, delighted.
Let him try, the whisper murmured. The golden boy bares his teeth. He will dig, prod, search until he exposes you. Shall we let him see the marrow beneath your ribs?
No, Erevan thought fiercely, chest heaving, teeth gritted. Rain soaked through his robe, biting into his heated skin, but he barely noticed. Only Cassian's gaze mattered, unflinching, patient, pressing down on his will.
Cassian's aura shifted subtly. His knight spirit flickered faintly at his shoulder, a hint of steel and light pulsing with quiet authority. Not a full summoning, but presence enough to press the weight of expectation into Erevan's chest.
The whisper in his mind hissed, coiling, insistent. Show him. Let him see. Do not resist. Do you not want them all to fear you?
Erevan's lips parted. Words not his own spilled out, harsh and jagged, scraping the air before he could stop them. Panic shot through him as Cassian's eyes caught the smallest tremor, the subtle pull of shadow at the edges of his being.
With a gasp, he slammed his mouth shut, locking the darkness behind clenched teeth. His body shook violently, knees threatening to buckle. Rain stung his face, soaked his hair, but nothing matched the storm inside.
Cassian's eyes softened just enough to unsettle him further, sharp and calculating, lips curving in that enigmatic smile. Interesting, he murmured. Then he stepped back, easing the pressure marginally, though the weight of awareness lingered.
The companions fell into step behind him as he turned. The courtyard returned to its quiet punctuated by rain, broken only by the soft murmur of curiosity and fear from lingering students at the edges.
Erevan remained frozen, chest heaving, palms slick with rain and sweat, nails biting crescents into his skin. Iron filled his mouth, taste sharp.
They will not stop, Harrax whispered, velvet and heavy. The golden boy has scented your marrow. He will dig and pry until you are bare. Unless… A pause, tantalizing. Unless you strike first.
No, Erevan whispered, ragged, breaking. No more.
Harrax's laughter followed him long after Cassian vanished into the mist of rain, threading through shadows, curling around every fear. It would not be silenced. It would not be denied.
Erevan tightened his cloak around himself, shivering not from cold but from the weight of realization. The academy walls pressed closer, whispers sharper, and the golden boy's curiosity was now a predator stalking him.
For the first time, Erevan understood. He could never slip quietly into the background again. The anomaly was no longer a secret. It had become his shadow, his mark, his truth.
Somewhere deep in the folds of darkness that clung to him, Harrax purred in satisfaction, coiled, triumphant, waiting.