For a moment, neither of them spoke. The campus hummed around them with the usual careless rhythm of students who had no idea how delicate their safety really was. Laughter drifted from the courtyard. Someone called out to a friend. A motorcycle passed in the distance.
The world moved on.
But Leora didn't.
She sat beside Aldric, her breath finally steady, her eyes no longer darting around like a trapped animal. She held her juice with both hands now—trying, perhaps, to anchor herself.
Aldric didn't rush her. He'd learned long ago that panic doesn't evaporate when commanded; it drains slowly, like poison leaving the bloodstream.
Finally, Leora inhaled carefully and spoke.
Not in English.
Not in any language casual ears could register.
But quietly—barely above the wind—she muttered:
"Ek sá þá ganga undir hyldýpi náttmyrkranna… blóð á höndum, logar í skugga… en engin mannvera var þar."
Aldric looked up slowly, eyes narrowing.
Old Norse.
Not modern Scandinavian.
Not Icelandic.
Old Norse.
The language of sagas. Rituals. Runic inscriptions.
A dead language.
A language no university in Castria taught.
And she had spoken it fluently.
She's not stupid, Aldric thought.
She said it this way on purpose. Smart girl.
He leaned back on the bench so their posture looked casual—two classmates resting during a break—but inside, his mind tore through every word at lightning speed.
Ek sá þá ganga undir hyldýpi náttmyrkranna…
I saw them walk beneath the abyss of night…
…blóð á höndum, logar í skugga…
blood on hands, flames inside shadows…
…en engin mannvera var þar.
but no human was there.
Aldric felt a chill crawl up the back of his neck.
No names.
No specifics.
But she described a place. A ritual.
A presence that wasn't human.
Not human.
That part hit him harder than he wanted to show.
Whatever Leora had witnessed… it wasn't ordinary corruption.
It wasn't just some powerful man doing something illegal.
It wasn't a cult performing a show for theatrics.
It was something… older.
Darker.
The kind of thing ancient people looked at and wrote in languages built for myth and fear.
He turned his head slightly toward her without losing his calm exterior.
"You choose Old Norse to say that?" he murmured.
A small, almost invisible nod.
Smart indeed. If someone was listening—or if hidden microphones were planted nearby—there was a decent chance they wouldn't recognize the language. Even if they did, translation wasn't trivial.
Aldric translated the words fully in his mind—and the shock sank deeper.
Blood.
Shadowed flames.
No human presence.
He didn't show his horror.
He couldn't.
I'll understand the true meaning when I get home…
There were books there. Documents. Old research he'd hidden away long before this started.
Old Norse warnings that spoke of beings who moved in silence, unseen, leaving only "flames within shadow" behind.
God… don't let it be that…
Leora swallowed, her eyes still trembling at the edges even as she tried to remain composed.
"Good choice," Aldric said quietly. "Keep doing things like that and you might live through this."
She let out a shaky exhale.
Aldric leaned closer—but not enough to draw attention.
"Listen carefully," he whispered. "Don't trust anyone. Not inside this school… not outside it."
Her breath caught.
"They could be everywhere," he continued, "and nowhere at the same time. That's how they operate."
Leora's fingers clenched around the juice.
"You're going to come to class," he went on. "You're going to talk. Laugh. Complain about homework. Be yourself. Nothing changes."
She slowly nodded.
"Because the fastest way to die," Aldric said with a quiet, merciless certainty, "is to act like you know something. And don't forget…"
His eyes hardened, but his voice stayed gentle.
"…seeing what you saw is already a death sentence. Corruption like this—real corruption—they never leave traces. They don't tolerate witnesses. Not even accidental ones."
Leora's breath hitched, but she covered it by pretending to sip her drink.
"Good," Aldric murmured. "Normal. Stay normal."
He looked ahead toward the courtyard, forcing a casual expression.
And then his gaze slid to the street.
The black car was still there.
Same place.
Same angle toward the bench.
Still watching.
Leora didn't notice, and Aldric didn't let his eyes linger too long. But that single, cold awareness pressed against him like a blade tucked under his ribs.
He stood slowly, stretching as if shaking off stiffness.
"We'll walk back separately," he said softly. "Don't look nervous."
Leora nodded again, breathing deeply as she collected herself. She wiped her eyes subtly with her sleeve and stood as well, putting on the faintest smile—a brave, shaky smile, but still a smile.
Aldric's thoughts sharpened.
They're already here. Already watching. And she saw something she shouldn't have.
I need to decode her words fully. And fast.
Because whatever she saw… it wasn't human.
Leora walked away toward the main entrance with carefully measured steps.
Aldric turned the opposite direction.
Behind them, the black car didn't move.
Didn't start.
Didn't even breathe.
It simply watched.