Adrian's breath hitched as the faint footsteps grew louder — steady, deliberate, yet unsettlingly calm. Each step seemed to echo longer than it should, as if the sound lingered in the air, refusing to fade. The corridor stretched ahead, narrow and suffocating, its walls clinging to the shadows like ink bleeding across parchment. The flickering lanterns barely held back the dark, their pale glow twisted and frail.
He pressed his back against the wall, fingers twitching near his belt — the cold steel of his dagger's hilt barely brushing his fingertips. Whoever was approaching wasn't panicked like the students — no hurried breaths, no frantic scuffle of feet. There was something unnervingly deliberate in those steps, like someone walking through a familiar place — unbothered, unchallenged.
Adrian swallowed against the dry knot in his throat and stepped forward. "Who's there?" His voice cut through the silence — thin yet sharp, the sound swallowed almost instantly.
The footsteps stopped.
The air seemed to tighten, like unseen fingers curling around his chest. Silence pressed down on him, too heavy to be natural. He strained to hear — a breath, a whisper — anything.
Then the steps resumed. Slow. Unhurried. Closer.
From the gloom emerged a figure, half-lit by the dying lanterns — tall, draped in a dark tailcoat that seemed to bleed into the surrounding shadows. The fabric shifted like smoke against his frame, its outline barely distinguishable from the blackness behind him. His sharp features were cast in cold blue light, and his pale eyes seemed to drink in the shadows rather than reflect them. There was no tension in his posture, no flicker of uncertainty — only calm, unsettling stillness.
"You're..." Adrian's words faltered, breath unsteady. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat thudding in his ears. "Are you... are you a teacher?"
The figure paused for a moment, allowing an unsettling silence to stretch between them. Then, in a voice smooth and deliberate, he replied, "Not a teacher, but a substitute. My name is Kaelan Mercer."
His tone was composed, each word carefully measured. The flickering lanterns cast an almost ethereal glow on him, but his demeanor seemed entirely unfazed by the uncertainty surrounding them.
The name lingered in the air like a spell, and Adrian's heart raced. Kaelan Mercer. The stories and rumours he'd heard suddenly came to life, conjuring images of mastery, strength, and an aura of mystery. This was the man who had captured the attention of so many senior students, and now he stood before him.
"Kaelan Mercer," Adrian repeated, the name tasting almost like a charm on his tongue. No one could pinpoint his origins or recount his past, yet he stood here, emanating an aura that suggested he was far beyond any ordinary instructor.
The excitement began to bubble up inside Adrian as he recalled the awe that Kaelan inspired. No teacher had ever sensed the depths of his magical powers, nor had any dared to compare themselves to the mysterious substitute now before him. It was as if the academy itself resonated with the uncharted potential Kaelan embodied.
"Are you really...?" Adrian hesitated, struggling to find the words that would express the weight of his admiration. ""I've heard so much about you — your abilities, the stories— ..." His voice faltered for a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I'm Adrian Thorne. My family... is renowned for our lineage, you know. But I've— I've never seen anyone quite like you."
He shifted slightly, feeling the tension in the air. "The things they say about you—how powerful you are—it's... it's incredible
As Adrian spoke, Kaelan Mercer maintained his calm demeanor, allowing the young man's admiration to wash over him. Yet beneath his composed facade, he engaged in a quiet, calculative inspection of the boy before him. Adrian was clearly young—perhaps around sixteen or seventeen—his youthful features illuminated by the soft glow of the lanterns.
Kaelan's sharp eyes took note of the striking blue hue of Adrian's eyes, which gleamed with enthusiasm and determination, a mark of his noble lineage. The boy's tousled blonde hair framed a face that was both earnest and slightly anxious, revealing hints of the pressure that accompanied his family's esteemed legacy.
Instead of the usual fitted uniform, Adrian wore a set of pajama pants and a simple tunic—comfortable attire befitting the late hour. Even in this relaxed state, the garments were well-tailored and bore the subtle insignia of the Thorne family, hinting at a life nourished by privilege and an indication that this young man was no stranger to expectations.
Kaelan regarded Adrian with an appraising look, his pale eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the boy's demeanor. A hint of curiosity flickered in his expression, mingling with the calmness that enveloped him like a shroud.
"What is a student like you doing out here at such a late hour?" Kaelan's voice was steady, but there was an underlying inquiry that piqued his interest.
Adrian paused at the question, his enthusiasm momentarily dimmed by the sudden reality of being caught outside his quarters. He glanced around the corridor, where shadows danced under the flickering lanterns before turning his attention back to Kaelan.
"I, um… I heard some noise," he stuttered, trying to gather his thoughts. "It sounded like something was wrong, so I thought I'd see what was happening."
His eyes shone with earnestness, betraying his youthful courage even as they flickered with uncertainty. "Plus, I wanted to meet you. I've heard so much about your—your skills and power. I thought perhaps you would be... different
Kaelan's expression remained thoughtful as he absorbed Adrian's words. The boy's eagerness was palpable, and Kaelan couldn't help but sense a deeper yearning in him—the desire to break free from the gilded confines of his lineage and establish his own identity.
"I see," Kaelan responded slowly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Yet, excitement can lead to reckless decisions, especially in the dark." He stepped a little closer, his demeanor still calm and measured. "You should be more mindful of your safety, Adrian Thorne. Curiosity is admirable, but watchfulness is a skill that often serves us better."
I—I understand," he replied, the nervousness in his voice giving way to a hushed respect. "But I couldn't let the chance to... to possibly meet you slip away."
He wasn't sure why he said that — perhaps out of honesty, or perhaps because Kaelan's presence made anything less feel foolish.
Kaelan gave a faint nod, the flickering lanterns casting shifting shadows across his face.
"Then perhaps," Kaelan said quietly, "you should start by learning when to listen."
The words struck like a hammer wrapped in silk — soft yet impossible to ignore. Adrian swallowed hard, but instead of shame, a strange sense of awe lingered in his chest.
That... Adrian thought, almost breathless, That's the kind of person I want to be.
Kaelan's gaze lingered on Adrian, yet his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Those screams...
They had been faint — distant cries that seeped through the walls of the principal's office like whispers trapped in stone. Muffled, yet unmistakable. He'd ignored them then, dismissing them as students misbehaving — nothing more than noise carried by the wind.
But now, standing in this dimly lit corridor with Adrian before him, that sound — strained, breathless, terrified — clawed its way back into his mind. His instincts stirred, that quiet whisper at the back of his thoughts that never spoke without reason.
"Adrian," Kaelan said, his voice lower now, colder. "Has anything... unusual happened tonight?"
Adrian blinked, startled by the sudden shift in Kaelan's tone. "Unusual?"
"Strange noises," Kaelan pressed. "Disturbances. Anything that didn't feel right."
For a moment, Adrian said nothing. Then, slowly, his face paled — like someone recalling a nightmare they'd tried to forget.
"There... there was something," Adrian said. His voice faltered slightly. "About an hour ago."
Kaelan's gaze sharpened, his stillness turning unnervingly precise — as if the very air had stiffened around him. "Go on."
"I was in the dormitory," Adrian began. "Everyone was. It was quiet at first... then suddenly — this pulse hit."
His hand drifted to his chest, fingers curling as if trying to grasp the memory. "It wasn't like normal mana — it was... thicker. Heavier. It didn't just push through the air — it sank into it."
His breathing hitched. "The whole dorm felt it — everyone did. Some people screamed, some ran outside, and others just... froze." He swallowed hard. "I've never seen so many people panic at once. It was like they knew something wasn't right — like whatever caused it was... wrong."
His gaze flicked to the shadows behind Kaelan, as if expecting something to crawl out from the dark. "I didn't go check," Adrian muttered. "I just... I didn't know what to do."
Kaelan's brow knitted tightly, thoughts swirling like ink in water.
A mana surge… here?
He knew that term — not from idle rumor, but from the forgotten pages of a manuscript he'd found deep within the principal's hidden library. That room had been more than just a storage space — it felt like a tomb for secrets long abandoned. The air had clung to him like dust in a crypt, and the candle flames there seemed to flicker without wind. The book itself had been tucked beneath layers of glyph-marked tomes — a journal, ragged and yellowed, yet meticulously inscribed.
It spoke of mana surges — volatile, unnatural pulses that rippled through the air like a scream with no voice. Not magic — no, this was something older. Something primal.
A surge wasn't merely excess energy breaking free — it was the deliberate release of one's aura, raw and unrestrained. A language woven from power itself.
Some wielded surges to signal allies across vast distances, their presence flaring like a beacon in the dark. Others used them to intimidate — a suffocating pulse that crushed the air, forcing lesser beings to their knees. But the rarest purpose — and the most dangerous — was to provoke. A surge sharpened to a needlepoint, designed to awaken ancient forces... or invite something far worse.
But what unsettled Kaelan most was the scribbled warning he'd found wedged in the book's margins — written hastily, as if the author feared they wouldn't have time to finish.
> "A mana surge is not blind power — it's intent made manifest. The air does not recoil without reason. Where surges linger... something wicked follows."
Kaelan's gaze hardened.
Someone unleashed that surge with purpose — and they wanted to be noticed.
His eyes flicked back to Adrian, who still stood pale-faced and uneasy. The boy's hands twitched restlessly, knuckles white against his tunic. Kaelan could still see faint traces of tension in his frame — not just fear, but something deeper.
"Adrian," Kaelan said quietly, his tone sharp enough to cut. "That pulse you felt... did it spread outward, or did it pull?"
Adrian blinked, caught off guard. "Pull?"
"Yes," Kaelan pressed. "Did it feel like the air was... dragging you? Like something was reaching out?"
Adrian swallowed hard. "Y-yeah," he muttered. "It wasn't like regular mana — it didn't just... push. It felt like the air had weight, like it was dragging itself — dragging us — toward something. Toward... the west wing, I think."
The west wing...
Kaelan's hand drifted to his chest pocket, fingers curling instinctively around the fabric. Something cold pressed back — thin, stiff, and sharp at the edges.
The Jester Card.
His mind churned, piecing together fragments of the past hour. The surge — that unnatural pulse — it hadn't just appeared. It had started. Right there, in the principal's office.
He remembered unlocking the metallic cube, its strange symbols hissing faintly as the lid clicked open. The air had shifted then — not like a breeze, but something deeper. He'd felt it coil around him, pressing against his skin like unseen fingers. The candlelight had dimmed — not flickering, but fading, as if swallowed by something. Then came the wind — sharp and sudden — slamming into his face. Papers had spiraled across the room, yet one thing hadn't moved at all.
The card.
Face-up. Grinning.
Kaelan's fingers tightened around it now, the paper dry yet oddly cold — like stone left in the dark. The memory of that pulse gnawed at him — not a push, but a pull. A force reaching outward — deliberate, purposeful.
This card... it wasn't left behind. It was placed.
The air around him felt heavier, stretched thin as if something unseen lingered — something watching, waiting. His grip on the card remained firm as his gaze turned back to the corridor.
The west wing lay cloaked in shadow — silent yet strained, like a breath held too long.
He slid the card back into his pocket, slow and deliberate, as if sealing a lock.
Kaelan opened his mouth to ask another question — his voice poised on the edge of speech — but before the words could form, a new sound broke the silence.
Footsteps.
Not just one pair — several. Quick, purposeful strides pounding against the stone floor, their rhythm urgent yet staggered. Some heavier than others, boots striking the ground with force. Others were softer, lighter, yet no less determined.
Adrian's breath hitched, and his gaze darted toward the shadowed end of the corridor. "That's… that's a lot of people," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Kaelan's hand instinctively moved to his pocket, fingertips brushing against the edge of the Jester Card once more — cold and sharp beneath the fabric.
"Stay close," he muttered, his pale eyes narrowing as the footsteps grew louder — closer.