Asher sat alone in the deserted classroom, the day's lessons canceled under the weight of Morgan's death.
His hands trembled, his eyes hollow with dread, the academy's walls pressing in like a trap.
His scars itched beneath his sleeve, a faint burn pulsing with his racing heart, as if the Chronothite itself was watching him.
Nico slid into the seat beside him, his rough hands folded, his usual scowl softened by a flicker of concern.
"You look like death warmed over, Rook," he said, his tone light but his dark eyes searching.
"Morgan's death got you this bad?" Asher's chest tightened, his scars flaring briefly. He forced a blank stare, his voice flat.
"It's just… this place. It's getting to me."
Nico tilted his head, studying him like a puzzle.
"Yeah, I get it. Academy's got a way of screwing with your head. Guy's dead, and everyone's acting like it's just another day."
He paused, his grin creeping back, softer now, almost warm.
"You didn't know him, right? You're acting like you saw his ghost or something."
Asher's heart skipped, panic flickering in his chest. "I didn't know him," he said, too quickly, his voice betraying a tremor. "It's just… everything feels wrong."
Nico leaned back, his grin fading into something closer to empathy.
"Fair. This place is a nightmare wrapped in stone. But you're carrying something heavier, aren't you? Come on, Rook, level with me. What's eating you?"
Asher swallowed, Nico's unexpected concern throwing him off balance.
His scars tingled, urging him to speak, but fear held his tongue. "I'm fine," he mumbled, his voice dull, unconvincing even to himself.
He looked away, his eyes tracing the classroom's cracked walls, as if they might hold answers.
Nico's eyes narrowed, not accusing but curious.
"Alright, but I saw you last night. Insomnia's one of my curse—I don't sleep much. You were sneaking off somewhere, weren't you?"
He leaned closer, his voice dropping, gentle but probing. "Where were you going? You can tell me. I'm not a snitch."
Asher's stomach churned, terror gripping him.
His scars burned hotter, but he kept his face steady. "Nowhere," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Just… needed to walk."
Nico raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but not pushing. "Sure, Rook. But listen, I know you didn't kill Morgan. We're not tight, so keep your secrets. Just… if someone else saw you, for your own good keep your mouth shut".
His voice turned grave, his eyes locking onto Asher's. "You saw the wall, right? It listens before it eats."
Asher froze, the words sinking like ice into his bones.
He nodded faintly, unable to speak, and stood. "I need the bathroom," he muttered, his legs unsteady as he moved.
Nico called after him, his tone softer, almost protective. "Be careful, Rook. This place doesn't play fair."
Asher stumbled into the hallway, his heart pounding.
His steps faltered as he glimpsed Elara, Morgan's friend, whispering with Darel, rank 8. Darel's furious eyes met Asher's, sharp and accusing, and fear choked him.
He turned away, nearly running.
"Asher!" Rowan's voice cut through, his friend jogging toward him, his usual grin replaced by a tense frown.
"Been looking for you, man. We gotta talk."Asher replied hesitantly "Not here,let go somewhere else
Lira knelt in the academy's greenhouse, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine.
She'd volunteered to help tend the plants, a task the instructors had grudgingly allowed after she'd proven her knack for coaxing life from stubborn soil.
The greenhouse was a sanctuary of green, its glass walls streaked with condensation, vines curling like tendrils of secrets.
She dipped her watering can, letting a gentle stream soak the roots of a moonflower, its petals glowing faintly under the afternoon light.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel path behind her.
Lira turned to see Darel, rank 8, approaching, his lean frame moving with a quiet confidence.
His sharp features softened as he flashed a grin, his dark eyes catching the light like polished ebony.
"Lira, right?" he said reading her tag, his voice warm, a contrast to the fire she'd seen in him at the orientation.
"Didn't expect to find you here."
Lira returned a small smile, brushing dirt from her hands. "Prefect Darel. Yeah, I like it here. Plants don't lie or scheme."
She tilted her head, sizing him up. "You volunteering too?"
Darel chuckled, grabbing a watering can from a nearby shelf.
"Something like that. Needed a break from… everything." He gestured vaguely toward the academy, his grin fading slightly.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Go ahead," Lira said, nodding to the row of starbloom plants. "They're thirsty. Just don't drown them."
They worked side by side, water splashing softly as they tended the plants.
Darel pointed to a cluster of nightshade, its dark berries gleaming. "These are tricky," he said, his tone light but knowledgeable.
"Too much water, and they rot. Too little, and they shrivel. My sister used to grow them back home—said they're like people, always needing balance."
Lira raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Your sister's got a point. I read that nightshade can be medicinal or deadly, depending on the dose. Kind of like this place."
She gestured to the greenhouse walls, the academy looming beyond. "Beautiful, but dangerous."
Darel laughed, a low, easy sound that echoed in the humid air.
"You're not wrong. This academy's got more secrets than these plants have roots." He paused, watering a delicate fern.
"You ever notice how the Chronothite makes them grow faster? I swear these ferns doubled in size overnight."
Lira nodded, her eyes brightening. "It's the energy in the soil.
The Chronothite hum—it's like the plants are drinking time itself. Back in my village, we used to say plants listen to you if you talk to them. Sounds silly, but I've seen it work."
"Not silly at all," Darel said, his grin returning.
"I've caught myself whispering to these starblooms, telling them not to give up. They're stubborn, like me." He winked, and Lira laughed, the sound surprising her with its lightness.
Their conversation flowed, weaving between plant lore and shared stories.
Lira spoke of her childhood garden, where she'd coax stubborn yams to thrive, while Darel shared tales of sneaking into his sister's herb patches to steal mint for tea.
Their laughter mingled with the drip of water, a fleeting moment of ease in the academy's oppressive air.
Mid-sentence, as Lira described a trick for reviving wilted roses, a chill swept through the greenhouse.
The air grew heavy, the jasmine's scent souring into something metallic.
Lira froze, her watering can tilting, water spilling onto the gravel.
A shadow flickered at the edge of her vision, and she turned, heart lurching.
A figure stood at the far end of the greenhouse, motionless, cloaked in shadow.
Morgan—his prefect uniform torn, blood streaking his pale face, eyes hollow and unblinking.
"Prefect Morgan?" Lira whispered, her voice trembling. "Is that you?"
The figure didn't move, didn't speak. It raised a trembling hand, pointing to the greenhouse wall behind her.
Lira turned, her breath catching.
The sky beyond the glass had darkened, clouds churning like ink spilled across a canvas.
The academy's silhouette loomed, its towers twisting into jagged, unnatural shapes, as if the stone itself was writhing.
The plants around her withered in an instant, their leaves curling into brittle husks, petals falling like ash.
Screams echoed—distant, then deafening, clawing at her ears.
Black fire erupted across the academy's facade, flames that burned without light, consuming stone and sky.
Lira stumbled back, her heart pounding. On the wall, carved in jagged, glowing script, were words in a language she didn't understand—a twisting, serpentine alphabet that pulsed with Chronothite energy, each stroke sharp as a blade.
The writing seemed to writhe, alive, its meaning just out of reach: Il es despertus.
Lira's vision blurred, terror choking her. She turned back to Morgan's figure, but it was gone.
Darel was gone too, the greenhouse empty except for the withered plants and the oppressive hum of Chronothite.
The black fire roared louder, the screams crescendoing, and the writing on the wall burned brighter, its message searing into her mind.