Luke sat at his desk, flipping through the notes he had gathered since arriving at Crystal College. The glowing runes on the pages pulsed gently, responding to his touch as he traced them absentmindedly. Though he had earned a reputation as the silent stunner, he hadn't forgotten his purpose: survival and control. And now, for the first time since arriving in this world, he had found something that set his instincts on edge.
Beside him, Amara layed on her belly on the couch with her feet dangling behind her, munching on a powdered donut. A small plate rested between them, stacked high with pastries they had picked up from the town earlier that day. Sugar dusted her fingers as she reached for another, her red eyes flicking to the notes on the table.
The first clue had been subtle—a peculiar sigil burned into the ground where he had fought the spectral wolves. At first, he had dismissed it as a mere remnant of the battle, but after seeing the same sigil carved into the walls of a forgotten section of the academy, he knew better. Someone had left a mark, and it wasn't a friendly one.
"Hey, you're doing that thing again," Amara's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Luke glanced up. She was sprawled across the couch, her silver hair catching the flickering candlelight. Her red eyes studied him with mild amusement, though there was a sharpness behind them.
"What thing?" he asked, taking a bite of a jelly-filled donut.
"The whole brooding and plotting thing," she teased, before sitting up and stretching. "You've been locked in here all day. Something on your mind?"
Luke hesitated before pushing the parchment toward her. Amara scooted closer, dusting off her hands before examining the sigil. The moment she saw it, she stiffened, suddenly losing interest in the pastries.
"Where did you find this?" she asked, her voice unusually serious.
Luke arched a brow. "So you recognize it."
Amara exhaled sharply. "Yeah. It's an old demon clan's mark—specifically one belonging to the Shadowborn. They're... bad news."
"Define 'bad.'"
"They're the type who don't leave survivors." Amara tapped the sigil with a clawed fingertip. "This means they were here. And recently."
Luke's mind whirred with possibilities. Crystal College was supposed to be a sanctuary of magic, protected by layers of enchantments. If the Shadowborn had infiltrated it, that meant one of two things: they were exceptionally skilled or someone had let them in.
"We need more information," Luke muttered. "Have you ever met them?"
Amara looked away, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Once," she admitted. "I barely escaped."
A rare flicker of emotion passed over Luke's face—anger, not just at the Shadowborn but at the thought of someone harming Amara. He closed his fist over the parchment, determination settling in his chest.
"We need to find out what they're doing here," he said firmly. "If they were at the academy, they might be after something—or someone."
Amara met his gaze and nodded. "Then we'd better start digging."
Over the next few days, the two of them worked in secret, investigating the outskirts of the academy. They found traces—burned leaves where dark magic had been used, symbols scratched into hidden corners of the walls, and whispers among the lower-ranked students of people vanishing in the dead of night. The disappearances weren't official—no one in power acknowledged them—but Luke could sense the fear creeping into the shadows of the academy.
Late one evening, as the two sat on the dormitory balcony eating their last donut, Amara broke the silence. "You realize we might be in way over our heads, right?"
Luke smirked. "That's not gonna stop us before."
"You're not wrong." She sighed, licking the last bit of powdered sugar from her fingers. "Still, I've got a bad feeling about this."
Later that night, they followed a lead into the undercroft beneath the academy's library. It was a place few ever ventured, shrouded in old magic and lined with forgotten books. Amara, despite her usual confidence, tensed as they walked deeper.
"This place reeks of dark magic," she muttered.
Luke nodded, feeling the oppressive energy coiling around them. A heavy feeling settled in his guts...He wasn't sure if it was despair, desperation, or donut. Then he saw it—a faint glow at the far end of the chamber. As they approached, the sigil they had been chasing was burned into the stone floor, pulsating with an eerie red light. And beside it, half-hidden in the shadows, was a hooded figure.
The figure turned, revealing hollow,clear-blue eyes beneath the hood. A slow, menacing smile spread across their lips.
"You've come far, but this is where your path ends."
Luke instinctively raised his hand, magic crackling at his fingertips. Amara growled, her fangs bared.
The fight was about to begin.