The academy was cloaked in silence, its corridors empty under the weight of night. Armand followed Grace Johnson through the shadows, his nerves tightening with every step. The slip of paper with Professor Wright's name felt heavier than stone in his pocket.
Grace stopped outside the professor's office. The door was locked, but she produced a small blade — not the same knife from class, but another, thinner, sharper. With a practiced motion, she slid it into the lock. A faint click echoed, and the door creaked open.
Inside, the office smelled of old paper and dust. Books lined the shelves, but it was the desk that drew Grace's attention. She pulled open drawers, searching quickly, until her hand froze on a leather-bound journal.
Armand leaned closer. The pages were filled with strange symbols, diagrams of knives, and notes written in hurried script. One phrase repeated over and over: "The whisper must be silenced."
Armand's stomach dropped. "He knows about the Circle."
Grace's eyes narrowed. "More than that. He's trying to destroy it."
Before Armand could respond, a voice cut through the room.
"You shouldn't be here."
They spun around. Professor Wright stood in the doorway, his expression calm but his eyes cold. In his hand, he held a knife — longer, heavier, and humming with a whisper louder than any Armand had heard before.