The great halls of the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn stood silent, save for the soft rustle of parchment and the occasional crackle of enchanted lanterns. Amid the labyrinth of books and scrolls, a lone scholar toiled. Bent over a tower of research reports, her quill scratched endlessly, a pale light glinting off its silver tip. A weary sigh slipped from her lips, her wings shifting with quiet frustration. "Nothing," she murmured, her voice soft yet edged with discontent. "Nothing new about these blasted spirits…"
Rising from her chair, the scholar—a proud alicorn named Nerath—stretched, her muscles tight from hours spent hunched over her work. Her curly mane, once restrained in a hastily tied bun, now cascaded down her neck in wild, untamed spirals. She cast a longing glance at the cluttered desk before turning toward the vast corridors of the Academy. "Perhaps the others have fared better," she said aloud, her words filling the empty space as she stepped purposefully into the hall. Her hooves echoed against the polished stone floors.
Her first destination was the laboratory, the sanctum, where only the most esteemed academicians dared tread. Here, the enigmatic spirits—the very subjects of Nerath's relentless study—were kept, their presence as much a mystery as the forces that had bound them. Few were permitted to linger in the lab's shadow, for even the sharpest minds found themselves humbled by the secrets it guarded.
Normally, she would consult an Ardenian scholar who meticulously recorded the comings and goings of the laboratory's visitors. But with the Festival of Sorority in full swing, he had departed to celebrate with his family, leaving the task to others. Nerath's keen eyes scanned the chamber until they fell upon a Ventian academician seated at a desk near the entrance, her quill flicking across a parchment.
"Excuse me," Nerath began, her tone warm yet purposeful. "Have you seen Naegissa, Raybarn, or Feyn in the lab today?"
The Ventian looked up, her pale features softening with a friendly smile. "Nerath! I'm sorry, but no, I haven't seen them since I arrived. Perhaps they're in the library?" she suggested, her voice laced with a hint of regret.
Nerath offered a small, gracious smile in return. "Thank you. That's helpful. I'll check there next," she replied before stepping back into the corridor.
Her search continued, her hooves carrying her through the sprawling halls of the Academy. The Academy bustled with scholars, their robes a kaleidoscope of colors that marked their disciplines. As she passed, many paused to greet her with smiles and respectful bows. It was no secret that Nerath was admired among her peers, her reputation as both a dedicated scholar and a kind soul preceding her wherever she went. Yet admiration could not guide her now, for none she encountered had seen her elusive companions.
Still, she pressed on, her heart tugged forward by an unyielding hope. If the spirits themselves would not yield their secrets, then perhaps her friends, scattered somewhere amidst the Academy's countless chambers, held the key.
Nerath prowled the endless shelves of the library, her sharp eyes scanning the aisles as she moved with purpose. Her search proved fruitless at first, the weight of the Academy's sprawling collection pressing down on her like a heavy cloak as she continued her journey, rumbling, patience starting to wane. It was only when she reached the Sand wing, a secluded corner of the Academy steeped in golden light and warm desert hues, that she finally encountered someone with answers.
The scholar she found there was young, barely more than a student, his pale coat marked by the deep bronze tones of his Saburian heritage. He straightened as she approached, a glimmer of eagerness in his eyes. "You're looking for Naegissa and Raybarn, aren't you?" he asked, his voice carrying the unsteady confidence of youth. "I saw them both at the Academy's Teleportation Service. It wasn't long after I left—I've been studying it for my paper, you see. My father runs the ATS." His chest puffed slightly as he spoke of his father, pride lighting up his face.
Nerath's brows rose in mild surprise. "The Teleportation Service?" she echoed. It wasn't like them to vanish without a word. "Did you see where they were heading?"
The young alicorn shook his head, an apologetic grimace crossing his features. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't catch that."
Nerath's sharp mind moved quickly, her questions tumbling one over the other. "And you mentioned only Raybarn and Naegissa," she pressed, her head tilting slightly. "Was there a younger Fulmenian with them? One named Feyn?"
But again, the scholar shook his head. "No, ma'am. Just the two of them," he replied, his tone regretful.
Nerath offered him a kind smile, though her thoughts churned. "Thank you for your help, and good luck with your studies," she said, her words gentle yet distant. As she turned to leave, her mind raced with unanswered questions. Why hadn't they told her where they were going? What business did they have at the Teleportation Service? And, most troubling of all, where was Feyn?
Her musings were interrupted by a voice from the aisle behind her. A Virtusian scholar, her silver robes shimmering faintly in the soft light, had caught part of the conversation. "Nerath," she called, her tone light and helpful, "are you looking for Feyn? I saw him heading toward the Guild Inn early this morning."
Nerath turned, her surprise plain. "You're sure?" she asked, her heart lifting slightly.
The Virtusian nodded. "I am. Good luck finding him."
"Thank you!" Nerath said, her gratitude genuine. Yet as the Virtusian went on her way, the Pythonian scholar felt a pang of melancholy. Her friends' absence was strange enough, but their silence stung more than she cared to admit. Why hadn't they spoken to her? Why had they gone their separate ways without a word?
But Nerath was not one to linger on hurt feelings, especially when the pursuit of knowledge called louder than her doubts. "They're all chasing leads," she reasoned, her voice a murmur in the empty aisle. "Feyn must've gone to speak once again with the Protectors who captured the spirit. Raybarn and Naegissa…perhaps they sought books beyond the Academy's walls, or counsel from someone beyond its gates."
Her steps quickened as she left the library behind. Whatever their reasons, she would find them. And if answers to her questions lay with her companions, then she would have them soon enough.
Nerath's thoughts churned as she strode through the grand halls of the Academy, her determination solidifying with every step. Her deduction was little more than a threadbare guess, but she clung to it nonetheless, driven by the thought of her companions pouring themselves into their tasks. "If they're all hard at work, then it's my duty to do the same," she muttered, her voice carrying a hint of wry amusement. "And when they return, I'll have answers waiting to ground them—what better way to even the scales?" A chuckle escaped her lips as she pressed on, weaving through the labyrinthine corridors toward the inner sanctum.
Her route was familiar, the well-worn path guiding her quickly through the bustle of the Academy. Scholars and researchers just caught a glimpse of the Pythonian as she passed—a blur of tawny fur and wild mane. She returned their nods with fleeting ones of her own, her mind occupied with plans to match her companions' elusive efforts.
As she approached the inner sanctum, the air seemed to grow heavier, charged with an intangible weight. The laboratory loomed ahead, its imposing doors a gateway to the heart of the Academy's mysteries. Here lay the most corrupted spirit the scholars had ever captured, bound within enchanted confines. Nerath felt a ripple of unease crawl down her spine, an instinct she couldn't ignore.
The doors yielded to her touch after she scanned her badge, sliding open with a faint hum. Darkness greeted her—a suffocating, unnatural void. The laboratory's usual glow was extinguished, the quiet hum of activity replaced by an eerie silence. Nerath's sharp eyes swept the room, searching for any sign of life, but the space was utterly abandoned.
Her first thought went to the spirit. She turned her gaze toward its containment field, half-expecting the worst. Yet the entity remained as it had been, its chaotic essence subdued within its prison. That alone steadied her nerves, though only slightly.
Cautiously, she stepped further inside, her hooves almost made no sound against the polished floor. The stillness was oppressive, the dark pressing against her like a shroud. She reached for the nearest light panel and pressed the activation rune. Nothing happened. The darkness refused to retreat.
Nerath frowned and stepped deeper into the laboratory, her hooves striking the stone with hesitant rhythm. A chill clung to the air, settling on her fur like damp ash. Her shoulders and wings tensed. Something was wrong—she felt it in the tightening of her gut, in the prickle crawling up her spine.
A sudden sound shattered the oppressive silence, a faint and unnatural noise that clawed at the edges of her awareness. Nerath's ears flicked backward instinctively, her head snapping toward the source. Her breath hitched, her heart pounding against her ribs as dread coiled tighter in her chest. She strained to see through the darkness, searching for movement, for any sign of life.
Then it came—a voice, low and hollow, resonating as though it rose from the depths of some unseen chasm.
"Who are you?"
The words slithered through the stillness, carrying with them a weight that pressed against her mind like a vise. It wasn't a question meant for conversation but an invocation, a demand that felt more ancient and invasive than mere language.
Nerath froze, her breath caught in her throat. The empty darkness seemed to twist and pulse around her, the shadows shifting in ways her eyes could not fully track. Straining to pierce the gloom, she answered, her tone measured and calm despite the growing disquiet. "I'm Nerath, lead researcher on the case of the enigmatic spirits. If this is some foolish prank, I warn you: this is neither the time nor the place. Reveal yourself."
No answer. Only the suffocating stillness. Her words seemed to vanish into the void, swallowed by the black. She turned, her keen eyes scanning for movement, for any sign of life. For a heartbeat, there was nothing. Then, at the edge of her vision, a flicker—a shadow moving where no shadow should be. She whipped her head toward it, but the flicker dissolved, leaving only the void in its wake. Her pulse quickened.
"Nerath…"
The whisper was soft, almost tender, yet it carried with it a malice that burrowed deep into her soul. She spun, her breath catching in her throat.
"Nerath…"
This time, it came from the opposite side of the room. Her name, repeated over and over, like a prayer or a curse, each iteration a dagger of dread stabbing deeper into her mind. The voices encircled her, slightly louder than a breath but far too clear to ignore. Her skin prickled, a cold shiver racing down her spine.
She turned again, the tension snapping like a taut string. And there, where moments ago there had been only empty space, now stood a figure.
An alicorn loomed in the shadows, its form cloaked in darkness that seemed to bleed into the air around it. Nerath's breath caught, her eyes struggling to make sense of the silhouette. The faint glimmer of stripes marked its fur, the dim phosphorescence confirming it was one of her kind—a Pythonian scholar. Yet something about its presence was wrong. Its stillness was unnatural, its figure half-formed, as though it had been carved from nightmares instead of flesh and bone.
"You're not like the others," the figure murmured, its voice as cold and hollow as the void itself. It was not a question, but a statement, delivered with a terrifying certainty. There was something in the tone—an unsettling intrigue, like a predator observing prey that intrigued it.
"What makes you different from them?" it asked, taking a deliberate step closer. The movement was impossibly fluid, almost serpentine. The air grew heavier, charged with a malign energy that made her limbs feel as though they were mired in tar. Nerath stood frozen, her courage a fragile thing crumbling under the weight of that gaze.
She wanted to speak, to move, to run. But all she could do was watch, her fear a silent scream trapped within the prison of her body, as the shadowed alicorn crept ever closer.
Nerath's heart thundered in her ears, a deafening drumbeat that matched the frantic rhythm of her fear. A thin sheen of sweat dampened her coat, and her legs quivered beneath her, hardly able to hold her upright. Every instinct screamed at her to flee, but her body betrayed her, weighed down by an oppressive force that turned her limbs to lead. The creature before her, this alicorn-shaped shadow, advanced with an unnatural grace, its very presence exuding an otherworldly menace.
The faint light from the laboratory door caught something on the being's form—something unnatural. A glimmer, sharp and alien, flashed in the suffocating darkness. Despite her terror, Nerath's scholar's mind seized upon this fleeting chance to study the intruder. Her eyes locked onto the figure, focusing with desperate precision even as her limbs refused to obey her commands.
The light revealed jagged crystals embedded in its body, glistening like fractured starlight. As the creature moved, these crystalline growths began to crumble, shedding fragments that seemed to dissolve into the shadows themselves. The creature paused, its hollow voice rumbling with a tone both mocking and resigned.
"Ah…this vessel cannot sustain my power much longer," it murmured, its words laced with an alien detachment as though the crumbling of its form was but a trivial inconvenience. Its gaze—or what passed for one—shifted down to its deteriorating frame, the shards falling away faster now, disintegrating into motes of nothingness.
Nerath's breath hitched as the disintegration accelerated. The shadow's alicorn-like semblance collapsed inward, revealing an emptiness more profound than mere absence, a void that gnawed at her sanity. Yet even as its body dissolved, the voice lingered, a chilling echo reverberating through the chamber.
"Tell your queen that I shall visit her soon…"
The words carried with them an unbearable weight, an icy whisper that seemed to seep into her very marrow. At those final syllables, the room itself seemed to shudder. The air turned frigid, and the shadows at the edges of her vision writhed like living things, growing and recoiling in a macabre dance. For one horrifying moment, Nerath felt as though the darkness itself would consume her.
And then it was over.
The last shard of crystal disintegrated, vanishing into the ether with a final, silent whisper. The oppressive weight lifted abruptly, and the laboratory snapped back to its former state. Lights flickered to life with a mechanical hum, banishing the unnatural gloom. The equipment whirred and clicked as though awakening from a long slumber.
Nerath flinched at the sudden brightness, her body jolting as though released from an invisible grip. Yet she dared not close her eyes, too terrified to miss any trace of what might still linger. Her breathing was ragged, her heart still racing, and though the room seemed to have returned to normal, the icy chill of those final words lingered, a scar upon her mind that she knew would never truly fade.
In the periphery of her vision, the capsule loomed—an ominous reminder of what lay contained within. Nerath's gaze shifted, drawn despite herself to the holding chamber where the spirit had been imprisoned. When she had entered, it had been inert, a maelstrom of chaos subdued into eerie stillness. Now it was disintegrating before her eyes, its form collapsing into an iridescent cascade of crystalline dust.
Her breath caught in her throat as realization struck her like a hammer. The first spirit—their prize, their mystery, their hope for answers—was gone. What remained was only the second, its corruption far less pronounced, its value to their research diminished to near worthlessness. The containment chamber, once a fortress, now seemed little more than an empty shell.
A wave of dread swept over Nerath, as if the air itself sought to suffocate her. Her thoughts spiraled, her mind unable to reconcile what she had seen. Her hooves moved before her will could catch up. Fear had seized the reins. She was running.
The grand halls of the Academy blurred as she fled, her body trembling with each hurried stride. Researchers and scholars turned at the sound of her hooves pounding against the stone floors, their expressions a mixture of surprise and concern. Some called out, others leaped aside to avoid her frantic dash, their startled exclamations falling into the void of her awareness.
The convoluted corridors gave way to the open streets of Alykarn, the capital city's sprawling life bursting into view. The noise, the bustle, the vibrant motion of her kin offered a stark contrast to the suffocating silence she had left behind. She plunged into the crowd, the press of alicorns around her a fleeting comfort against the void still clawing at the edges of her mind.
Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her legs quivering as she finally slowed, swallowed by the chaotic rhythm of the city. Yet she could not escape the weight of what she had witnessed. The image of the disintegrating spirit, the whisper of malevolence that lingered in the air, the empty promise of return—all burned into her thoughts like brands.
One thought repeated itself with relentless clarity: she could not bear to be alone. Not now. Not with the shadows that might follow.