The halls of the Academy were unrecognizable.
Usually bathed in the soothing glow of the Golden Tree, whose branches stretched majestically atop the mountain, casting a warm and comforting radiance, they were now swallowed by shadow. The colorful stained-glass windows, normally throwing vibrant patterns onto worn tiles, had become mere darkened surfaces, relentlessly battered by the pounding rain.
The sky, burdened beneath oppressive clouds, had robbed the daylight of its strength. It wasn't night yet, it was something between. A twilight consumed by the fury of the heavens.
The Black Moon still spread its hatred, lurking behind the storm clouds, its anger weakening the world's light.
Gaël ran.
His boots slammed against the wet tiles, each step echoing through the arches like urgent drumbeats. His breathing grew heavy, forming wisps in the cold air, but he didn't slow. His heart pounded in his chest, fueled by adrenaline, anxiety, and an instinct he couldn't quite grasp.
Keep going. Don't stop.
Astraéa.
He had lost her trail. How long ago? Two minutes? Ten? Time felt distorted, stretched thin by the tension. He had encountered neither Cassandre nor any instructors. Not even the Watchers. The Academy, usually bustling with life, seemed empty. Ghostly.
But it wasn't just the absence of people.
It was the atmosphere itself, stifling. Heavy. As if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
He reached a crossroads. Four paths. Each leading in a different direction. One dove toward the inner gardens, another wound toward the meditation chambers, a third ascended to the dormitories… and the last? A route toward the valley?
He hesitated.
Without further thought, he dashed down what he believed to be the path toward the valley.
The trail was treacherous.
A veritable goat track, winding and gnawed by the elements. Slippery stones shifted beneath his feet more than once, forcing him to clutch at exposed roots or the low branches of conifers. Streams of water cascaded furiously downhill, turning the earth into thick mud that clung to his boots. Each step was an effort, each breath a struggle.
But he didn't stop.
His gaze, fixed downward, sought a sign. Where are you…?
Then, he saw her.
A white shadow upon the rooftops.
Through the driving rain, Astraéa's fluid silhouette raced across the buildings. The movements of her mount were swift and precise. It leaped effortlessly from tile to tile, displaying feline agility, heedless of height, danger, or storm.
The rain slid off her, yet her steps never faltered. She had hidden to evade Cassandre... then continued on her way. At least, that's what Gaël assumed.
He managed a breathless smile.
Without wasting another second, he hurtled down the slope. His leg muscles screamed in protest, but he pushed harder, ignoring his body's objections. His boots skidded over a pile of loose stones, nearly sending him sprawling, but he caught himself just in time by grasping a branch. Pain flared sharply in his arm.
No time. He cursed under his breath and pressed onward.
Finally, he reached a promontory.
It was an open space on the mountainside, offering a breathtaking view over the valley below.
The valley... was alive. Not with human life, but something else entirely. Something vast, crawling. The horde...
But Gaël didn't pay it attention, not yet. His eyes were fixed on the figure at the edge of the promontory.
Astraéa.
She stood straight, unwavering despite the howling wind. Her black hair, heavy with rain, clung to her neck and cheeks. Her clothes were soaked through, yet she stood as though the cold couldn't reach her. Her intense gaze was locked onto a small creature in front of her.
A ball of black fur.
The animal had its back turned, seemingly fixated on the valley, indifferent to the girl's calls.
"Nyx! What got into you...?" Astraéa's voice mixed frustration and worry.
Yet, the creature didn't budge. Not a twitch of its ear. Not even a backward glance. It was as if something out there, deep within the valley, was drawing it more powerfully than anything else.
Gaël approached cautiously, his steps muffled by waterlogged mud and gusts of wind.
'Careful, don't startle it...' he thought, seeing the tension etched on Astraéa's face. Her brows were furrowed, fists clenched tightly at her sides.
Silence.
Then, the creature turned its head.
Its eyes, two orbs of abyssal darkness, met Gaël's gaze.
And he knew.
Just like the white mount, this was no ordinary animal.
_ _ _
The young woman spun around immediately, already on guard.
"Cassandre, I... Who are you?"
Her eyes, a fiery gold streaked with black, fixed on the figure emerging from the shadows.
"Who are you?" she demanded again, her voice sharp and brimming with tension.
The young man before her froze, panting. His clothes, soaked through, clung tightly to his body. Mud stained the hem of his tunic. His dark hair, plastered to his forehead, dripped steadily with water. His hands were raised in a gesture of peace, yet his gaze wavered between embarrassment and determination.
'A student?' she wondered. 'Why has he followed me? His face… I've seen it before. But where?'
"He's one of their brothers," came a mocking voice in her mind.
Astraéa grimaced.
"Nyx..." she muttered irritably under her breath.
The black ermine, still facing the valley, flicked its tail casually. Its red eyes sparkled with cynical amusement.
"He probably wants to slice me up," it hissed mentally, dripping with sarcasm.
"What are you talking about?!" she shot back, her voice even quieter as she threw a glance at the creature. 'Not now, you furry ghoul.'
She took a deep breath, holding back the irritation threatening to spill over. Her thoughts swirled rapidly. 'Did Cassandre send him? Or is he just curious? Either way… he shouldn't be here.'
Returning her attention to the guy, she raised her voice, her patience thinning under the strain of the situation.
"Who are you?" she repeated louder, her words striking like raindrops on stone.
The young man seemed to waver, his shoulders stiffening. He opened his mouth, hesitated... and finally blurted out hurriedly:
"I… My name is Gaël! I'm a student here!"
Astraéa let out a sigh. Obviously. The tunic, the academy crest on his sleeve... it was obvious. But that wasn't what she had asked. She wanted to know... why he was here. Why he'd ignored orders.
'It's not your name I want. It's your reason for being here. Your damned reason.'
Visibly uncomfortable, the young man looked away for a moment. Water streamed down his temples, and his heart beat so fiercely it was apparent in the faint blush rising to his cheeks.
"Why are you here?" she pressed, her voice growing harsher. "You were supposed to stay beneath the dome. It was an order."
"I… I followed you."
Silence.
Astraéa blinked. Really? Such a flat, obvious answer... Of course she had seen that he'd followed her. It wasn't the action she questioned. It was the reason.
"Are you slow, or are you doing this on purpose?" she finally growled. "What I want to know is why you followed me."
Gaël took a step back under the sharpness of her words, his cheeks flushing even deeper with embarrassment.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
'Hesitate again, and I'll toss you into the mud,' she thought.
Yet she restrained herself.
But before he could respond, Nyx chuckled in her mind:
"He finds you interesting, obviously."
"Shut up, Nyx."