Light flooded the spiral staircase as Kaelan made his way down into the secret chamber hidden beneath the principal's office. The smooth stone steps gleamed under the magical lanterns embedded in the walls—soft gold light casting no shadows, only clarity.
He gripped the rail loosely, moving with quiet urgency. He had been down here before, but only briefly. Now, everything had changed. The academy was preparing to install him as acting principal. The missing man's shoes were far too large to fill—unless Kaelan could find something, anything, that would tell him who the principal really was… and maybe how to handle the power the man had left behind.
If the principal really used this place often, then he had to have kept something valuable here, Kaelan thought. Secrets. Notes. Maybe even a powerful artifacts.
The room opened before him with the quiet sigh of old stone welcoming a familiar visitor. Unlike most hidden chambers, this one was neither gloomy nor cluttered. It was clean. Lived-in. Not a tomb, but a vault of knowledge.
Shelves lined the walls, stacked with old tomes, devices sealed in protective glass, and odd magical curiosities. A long desk stood in the center, covered in scrolls, crystal instruments, and a half-dismantled golem arm. There were even house plants—well cared for and thriving.
Kaelan took it all in with one sweeping glance, then moved toward the desk, his hands already reaching for the Jester card tucked inside his coat. It was warm again—just faintly, like a creature stirring in its sleep. The cube came next, heavier in his hand, its etched symbols catching the light as he turned it slowly.
You two caused that surge, he thought. But what else can you do?
He set both items on the desk with care, then pulled out the nearest chair. There would be no more guesses. If he was to stand in the principal's place—even as a lie—he needed control, knowledge… and power.
And it was time to start looking.
Kaelan moved toward the shelves, brushing his fingers lightly along the spines of the books. The titles were aged but legible, many of them handwritten or etched in faded gold.
"Conduits of Thought and Will," he murmured, recognizing the pale leather binding. He had skimmed through it once before—dense theories about how mana could be shaped by emotion alone. He doubted it would help him now.
His eyes drifted over the next few.
"Echoes of the First Arcana… Living Sigils and Mana Seals… The Nine Schools That Failed."
Some were historical, others theoretical. A few were strictly forbidden in the Academy's upper library. But none of them had what he needed right now—not until he reached the far-left corner, near the base of the shelf.
"Catalysts and Vessels: A Study of Mana Storage."
His gaze lingered.
He hadn't noticed this one before. The title alone felt too close to be coincidence. He crouched, ran his thumb along the spine, and pulled it out. The cover crackled faintly at his touch.
Before opening it, he set it on the desk beside the cube and the Jester card. His heart beat faster—not out of fear, but the sharp edge of instinct. The kind that told him he was finally close to something important.
Kaelan stepped back from the desk, eyes flicking to the corners of the room he'd always ignored before. The first few times he used the secret office, it had been purely for survival—quiet nights, restless sleep, and a place to be alone. But now… now he had to treat it like what it was: the last place the real principal likely worked, planned, or even hid things.
He crossed to the far side, where a pair of glassless shelves stood empty—at first glance. As he leaned in, he noticed faint scratches on the wood. A pattern. Not damage, but symbols. He traced them lightly. They resembled an older form of magical notation, the kind meant to be seen only by someone looking closely.
He filed that away. No time to decode them yet.
To the right, a long cabinet rested against the wall, drawers shut tight. He knelt and pulled one open.
Old scrolls. Some written in a language he couldn't read. Others seemed to hold schematics—diagrams of mana flows, symbols, circles layered over humanoid figures. Experiments? Theories?
Beneath them was a small, locked box—black metal, untouched by dust. No key in sight. He tapped the surface. It didn't feel like it was sealed by normal means.
Near the hearth, a tapestry hung from the wall. He'd always thought it decorative, until now. With a swift motion, Kaelan pulled it aside. Behind it was a flat wooden panel… and the faint glint of a recessed handle.
A hidden compartment?
He didn't open it yet. Instead, he exhaled and stepped back, his gaze slowly sweeping the room. Every part of this place held something. Clues, power, memory. If he wanted to truly become the principal—even if only in name—he needed to understand what the real one left behind.
He looked back at the desk, the Jester card glinting faintly under the light.
Something here would help him.
He just had to figure out what.
Kaelan crouched beside the flat panel, eyes fixed on the recessed handle. The wood was smooth, worn just enough to suggest it had been used more than once—discreetly. He slipped his fingers into the groove and pulled.
A quiet click. Then the panel shifted open with a whisper of hidden hinges.
Inside was a compact space, more like a storage niche than a full room. It was lined with shelves, smaller and dustier than the rest of the chamber. But it wasn't abandoned. Not quite.
Kaelan's eyes locked onto a small pedestal in the center of the niche. Resting atop it, encased in a protective glass dome, was a shimmering blue orb—no larger than a clenched fist. It pulsed gently, like a heartbeat. Like it was breathing.
He stepped closer, recognition dawning. He'd seen something like this before. Two days ago, in passing, while walking by a classroom during a lecture. The instructor had held it up like a treasure—a mana orb, a refined and stabilized version of raw mana stones.
Back then, he'd barely understood it. But the details stuck.
"Unlike raw stones, mana orbs are safe for mages below Rank 3. Rogue mana in raw form is corrosive, poisonous. Only those who can channel mana directly from their heart can flush it out. Rank 3 or higher. Any lower, and it's lethal."
But this—this orb was clean. No wild mana, no violent pulses. It glowed with contained power, steady and tame.
He lifted the dome carefully, the air around it humming faintly. The moment his fingers touched the orb, a soft warmth traveled up his hand—not burning, not overwhelming. It accepted him. Or maybe it just didn't reject him like every other source of magic had.
For the first time, Kaelan felt something close to mana—not his own, but near enough to touch. To interact with.
He held the orb closer, turning it slowly in his hand. It seemed to respond to movement, glowing brighter the longer he held it.
He didn't know yet how to use it. But this… this was a start.