Dean Godsthorn didn’t flinch as Dean Veyra stepped out of the shadows, the air around her growing cold despite the warmth of the room.
Her eyes shimred, not with fear, not with anger—but sothing far worse.
They had a calm, unreadable purpose.
"You’ve made quite the ss," Godsthorn said, folding his hands behind his back, the tips of his fingers glowing faintly with spatial magic.
She didn’t respond.
"Attacking the academy with hidden rcenaries. Burying spatial-lock orbs. Unleashing violence on students," he went on, voice quiet but edged. "Not to ntion turning my own academy as a whole into a place for such events."
Veyra blinked slowly. "And yet... not one death yet."
"You think that makes it better?"
"I think it proves I’m not here to destroy ElderGlow. If I were, we wouldn’t be talking."
"If you were here to destroy the academy, you’d be dead already." Godsthorn’s words were plain. It wasn’t a threat or a declaration. It was as though he was simply stating a fact.
And for so reason, Veyra didn’t seem to dispute this statent of his. It was like she knew he wasn’t lying.
Godsthorn exhaled, stepping forward, boots echoing across the array chamber floor. "Then tell , Veyra. What are you here for? What is worth betraying your na, your seat, and your students?"
Her silence was answer enough.
The spatial runes around Godsthorn’s body pulsed once—then stilled.
"I’m not here to fight you," she said at last. "Not if I can avoid it."
"You’ve already failed at that," he replied, and with a flick of his fingers, the door behind her sealed shut with three layers of runes.
The lights dimd. Magic humd.
Still, Godsthorn didn’t attack. Not fully. Not yet.
Because while the traitor before him posed a danger, he hadn’t yet seen the true shape of it. He didn’t believe this entire operation was for a simple act of subterfuge. It had depth. Layers.
And Veyra was only the skin of it. He wanted to get into the skin.
Across the academy, smoke hung low in the distance. A dorm roof smoldered but didn’t burn, doused by barrier wards and scattered defensive enchantnts.
Screams had given way to clashing steel and gritted commands. The night air was mixed with movent, but the true fights were still scattered — and few students even realized how close they were to tragedy.
In the northeast wing, a relaxation center stood quiet... at least, until the sharp sound of splintering wood echoed through its walls.
Elias adjusted his collar as he stepped over a fallen rcenary, his calm deanor unchanged, even as two more rushed him from behind.
With a twitch of his fingers, the air around him bent. A pop of compressed force knocked both n out cold before they could reach him.
Behind him, Razel had his foot on the neck of the glaive-wielding rcenary from earlier, unconscious and broken.
"Well," Razel said, wiping blood from his cheek. "That was easier than expected."
Elias looked around. "Only because we got here before they reached the students. This building was full of people earlier. They cleared it out in ti."
"You think they were stalling?"
"Buying ti, more likely."
Razel frowned, crossing his arms. "For what?"
Elias didn’t answer. Instead, he closed his eyes. For a brief mont, his magic circled his temples. When he opened them again, they glead faintly with violet light.
"They’re... moving toward the western section. All of them."
"Who?"
"The ones who scattered after Veyra gave the signal. Sothing’s calling them there."
Razel took a step forward. "We follow?"
"We follow."
At the Dean’s Tower...
Lord Terrace sat in silence, his legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. Void energy shimred faintly around his shoulders. The orbs pulsed within his void key, restrained but not dormant.
And Lord Terrace could feel it.
They were reacting to sothing. A presence. A pull.
They weren’t just seals. They were keys.
A thought crossed his mind, and his eyes narrowed.
"These weren’t just planted to keep us in," he murmured. "They’re probably linked to sothing buried..."
Behind him, footsteps sounded. He stood in a blink, one hand instinctively going for the hilt of his blade.
A familiar voice stopped him.
"Lord Terrace," said Sub Dean Koven, the second-ranking official in the ElderGlow internal council. He had arrived silently, looking out the tall glass windows into the stormy academy night.
"You felt it too," Terrace asked.
"I did," Koven replied. "They’re not after people. Or students. They’re after sothing sealed beneath the academy."
Terrace looked at him sideways. "And you know what it is?"
"I have guesses," Koven admitted. "But I’m not foolish enough to speak them aloud. Only the Dean might confirm such."
Back in the array chamber...
Dean Godsthorn still hadn’t moved from his stance.
Veyra, for her part, looked mildly bored.
"I won’t tell you what I’m here for," she said. "Because it won’t matter. You’ll know soon enough."
Godsthorn’s eye twitched.
"And until then?"
She shrugged. "Fight . Kill . See if it helps."
He considered it. "If I kill you, I’ll lose the chance to track the ones behind you."
"Exactly."
A pause. Then Godsthorn lowered his hand.
"Then I’ll wait," he said. "But know this: if even one student dies tonight, the leash I’m holding now?" His aura surged, distorting the air around them like a whirlpool.
"I’ll let it go."
Veyra smiled, but this ti there was a flicker of sothing behind it.
Not amusent.
Concern.
She turned away, and with a single spell sign — one that vanished almost as soon as it appeared — she blinked out of the array chamber in a flash of light.
Godsthorn let her go.
Then he finally turned, whispering three words to the air.
"Seal the core."
In the west section...
Elias and Razel arrived to find a strange sight.
Half a dozen of Veyra’s people were already gathered in a circle, casting layered spells over a stone platform that hadn’t been visible before.
It pulsed — faint and ancient — with inscriptions neither of them recognized.
Razel’s hand moved to his sword. "This isn’t just an attack."
Elias nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the glow.
"They’re trying to open sothing."
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