The garden is quiet. Peaceful. A stark contrast to the storm in my head. The leaves sway gently in the breeze, the scent of damp earth lingering in the air. A perfect place to clear my mind. A perfect place to assess the situation.
But I don't get that luxury.
No alibi. No memories. No proof that you're innocent.
There it is again. That voice. Not mine, but mine. A dark passenger riding along in the backseat of my skull, whispering the things I don't want to hear.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. I didn't kill Cassius. I didn't. That's what I tell myself. That's what I have to believe. But belief isn't enough when you black out for an entire night and wake up in front of the dorms like a discarded corpse.
I brush my fingers over a rose—red, like the blood staining my thoughts.
Would it be so bad if you did? He was an ass. You wanted him dead, didn't you?
My jaw tightens. "Shut up," I murmur, to myself, to the voice, to whatever twisted part of me thinks this is funny.
No. If I want to prove I'm not a murderer, I have to find the real one. The academy is already a nest of vipers, all smiles and condolences on the surface, but underneath? They're waiting for a name. For a culprit. And with no alibi, it won't be long before someone points a well-manicured finger at me.
I turn, glancing back at the towering stone buildings of Dicarthen. Cassius Veldane is dead. And I'm going to find out who put him in the lake.
There's a few things I need to keep in mind.
First of all, the time of Cassius' death and how that correlates to me being outside the men's dorm.
If I remember correctly, I did encounter Cassius late in the evening, right as school was out for the day, I don't exactly remember the time but it's safe to assume it was somewhere along the lines of 7:00 PM.
Headmistress Morgan Vale says his body was discovered after midnight and it hadn't been that long since his body was dumped in that lake. Although, they never mentioned the method of killing.
What I need to figure out is simple.
How did Cassius Veldane get killed?
How long had it been since he was killed?
Did anybody see or encounter me during this time period?
If I can just make sure nobody saw me or encountered me, I can be sure I was passed out and couldn't have killed Cassius or dumped that body in the lake.
The campus felt different today.
It wasn't just the way students whispered in the halls, how conversations died the moment someone noticed they were being overheard, or even the forced expressions of sorrow on the faces of those who had despised Cassius in life. No, it was something deeper. A shift in the air. A quiet, creeping paranoia settling over Dicarthen like a fog.
Cassius Veldane was dead.
And I had no alibi.
I had spent the morning observing—watching the way students looked over their shoulders, the way the faculty exchanged unreadable glances, the way even the most privileged noble brats spoke of Cassius like he was some beloved saint rather than an arrogant bastard they'd envied or despised.
A memorial was being arranged. Flowers were piling up near the lake, candles lit by people who had never spoken a word to Cassius while he was alive. Hypocrites.
Even worse—people were starting to talk about who could've done it. The investigation was ongoing, but there was no culprit yet. No suspect.
I needed to make sure that suspect wouldn't be me.
I made my way back to the dorms, pushing through the uneasy chatter of students lingering in the halls. That's when I spotted Ethan and Misha.
They were standing near the entrance, deep in conversation, until Misha's sharp gaze landed on me. Her lips curled into a smirk.
Misha: "Look who finally decided to stop running."
Ethan exhaled, shaking his head.
Ethan: "You good, man?"
Good? No. Not even close. But I wasn't about to spill my thoughts here, in the open, where anyone could listen in.
Castor: "Hi, Ethan... and Misha."
Misha raised an eyebrow.
Misha: "That's it? You disappeared from the hall like you saw a ghost, and all you have to say is 'hello'?"
Ethan: "Yeah, man. You looked… spooked. What happened?"
I hesitated, glancing at the other students passing by. Too many ears.
Castor: "Ethan, can we talk? Just us."
Misha frowned.
Misha: "Secrets, huh? Fine, whatever. Just don't go running off again."
She turned and walked off, her expression unreadable. I watched until she was out of earshot, then turned to Ethan.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, studying me with a mix of curiosity and concern.
Ethan: "Alright, what's up?"
I lowered my voice.
Castor: "Last night. When exactly did you find me?"
Ethan frowned, thinking.
Ethan: "Uh… late. Really late. You were out cold in front of the dorms. I had to drag you in."
My stomach twisted.
Castor: "Give me a time, Ethan."
Ethan exhaled sharply.
Ethan: "Around… two in the morning? Maybe later? Why does it matter?"
It mattered because Cassius' body was found not long after that. Because I had no memory of what happened before Ethan found me. Because if I couldn't explain my whereabouts, someone else would.
And I doubted they'd be on my side.
Castor: "Did you see anyone else? Anything strange?"
Ethan shook his head.
Ethan: "Nope. Just you. Looking like you got hit by a carriage."
No witnesses. No way to prove I wasn't lurking around the lake when Cassius was murdered.
I forced a breath.
Castor: "Thanks, Ethan. And… don't mention this to anyone, alright?"
Ethan studied me for a long moment before nodding.
Ethan: "I won't. But Castor… if something's going on, you better figure it out. Fast."
Oh, I planned to. Because if I didn't, someone else would.
And I wasn't sure I'd like their conclusion.
Dicarthen Academy was a hive of whispers.
The students who once tossed Cassius' name around with sneers now spoke it with solemn reverence. People who despised him suddenly wept over his 'untimely' passing. Hypocrites. But among them were those who were genuinely shaken—his real friends, the ones who had actually spent time with him. If I wanted to find out who killed Cassius, they were my best lead.
I pulled my cap lower over my face. It wasn't much of a disguise, but it helped me blend into the crowd. At least, that's what I told myself. Time to go full investigation mode.
I started by eavesdropping on conversations. Cassius was last seen leaving a late-night gathering with his usual group. His friends said he was heading back to the dorms, but no one saw him arrive.
A contradiction.
If he never made it back to the dorms, where did he go?
I moved to the memorial set up near the lake. Candles flickered against the breeze, petals scattered over the grass. A few students stood around, pretending to be more grief-stricken than they actually were. Among them, I recognized Julian Faulkner, Cassius' closest friend.
Julian wasn't the type to fake emotions. His face was grim, his hands shoved into the pockets of his finely pressed coat. I approached, keeping my voice casual.
Castor: "Didn't expect you to be the sentimental type, Faulkner."
Julian turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing when he saw me.
Julian: "And I didn't expect you to come snooping around, Rover."
Rover?
Ah. So he wasn't in the mood. Too bad.
Castor: "I was just curious. You and Cassius were close, right? Any idea who'd want him dead?"
Julian scoffed.
Julian: "Plenty of people. He wasn't exactly likable."
Castor: "And yet you're standing here mourning him."
Julian's jaw tightened.
Julian: "He was an ass, but he was my friend. There's a difference."
Fair enough.
Castor: "Did he say anything weird that night? Anything that stuck out?"
Julian hesitated, glancing around before lowering his voice.
Julian: "He mentioned meeting someone. He wouldn't say who. Just that it was 'important.'"
Interesting.
Castor: "And you didn't think to follow him?"
Julian exhaled sharply.
Julian: "Cassius did what he wanted. If I started following him around, he'd just punch me and tell me to piss off."
He had a point.
I nodded and walked away, my mind turning over the new information. If Cassius had gone to meet someone… then that person might have been the last one to see him alive.
Time to find out who that was.
Cassius had a small but arrogant friend group. A bunch of noble brats who thought they were untouchable. Normally, they wouldn't give me the time of day. But grief had a funny way of breaking down barriers.
I found them sitting under the academy's grand archway, speaking in hushed tones.
Castor: "Talking about the great Cassius, I see."
They looked up, sneers forming on their faces. Edric, Renaud, and Lucien. Three nobles who wouldn't be caught dead acknowledging me on a normal day.
Lucien: "What do you want, stalker?"
Castor: "Answers."
Edric scoffed.
Edric: "You think you're some kind of detective now?"
Castor: "Maybe. Or maybe I just don't like being in a school where students turn up dead."
Renaud leaned back against the bench, crossing his arms.
Renaud: "What makes you think we know anything?"
Castor: "Because you were the last people seen with him."
That shut them up.
Lucien shifted uncomfortably.
Lucien: "Look, we don't know much. Cassius left the gathering early. Said he had 'business.'"
Castor: "With who?"
Lucien hesitated.
Lucien: "He didn't say."
Edric sighed.
Edric: "He was acting weird that night. Jumpy. Kept looking over his shoulder."
Renaud: "Now that I think about it… yeah. He was on edge. And when he left, he told us not to wait up."
That was new.
Castor: "Did he normally do that?"
Lucien shook his head.
Lucien: "Not really. If anything, he usually wanted company."
So whatever this 'business' was, it was serious enough for Cassius to go alone.
I studied their faces. They were arrogant, yes, but not liars. At least, not good ones. They genuinely didn't seem to know who Cassius was meeting.
Castor: "One last thing. What time did he leave?"
Lucien checked his watch, despite it being useless now. A habit.
Lucien: "Around midnight."
My blood ran cold. Midnight. That was two hours before Ethan found me.
Which meant if I had seen Cassius that night… I still had no memory of it.
Gaps. Too many gaps.
I sat in my dorm, the puzzle pieces scattered across my mind like a broken mirror.
I met Cassius. That much was certain. 7:00 PM. An argument. But about what? My mind clawed at the void where the memory should have been, but all I found was static.
Then I blacked out.
I glanced at the clock. Midnight. The time Cassius was last seen alive.
My heartbeat thrummed in my ears. Two hours before Ethan found me wandering the campus like a ghost.
Two hours of nothing.
I exhaled, rubbing my temples. Think, Castor. If I was in a detective novel, I'd be the prime suspect. Motive? Missing. Weapon? Unknown. Alibi? Nonexistent.
I needed to reconstruct that night.
The school garden was empty at this hour, shadows pooling beneath the trees like ink. I walked the gravel path, retracing my steps from the previous night.
If I blacked out, where did I wake up?
A sickening thought crept into my mind. What if I had woken up at the lake?
I picked up my pace. The lake wasn't far. If Cassius was killed near the water, then maybe… maybe my body had taken me there before my mind did.
The voice in my head, my dark passenger, stirred.
What if you did it, Castor? What if you're just trying to prove yourself innocent because you already know the truth?
I gritted my teeth. Shut up.
The water glistened under the moonlight. Still. Quiet. A graveyard of secrets.
I crouched near the shore, pressing my fingers into the damp earth. Nothing stirred. No fresh footprints. No signs of struggle. If I had been here last night, there was no trace of it now.
Then I saw it.
A small glint in the grass.
I reached for it, my breath catching as my fingers closed around a silver chain.
Cassius' chain.
A rush of nausea hit me. Why was it here? Had I ripped it off him? Had he fought back?
No. No, there had to be another explanation.
But deep inside, that voice whispered again.
"What if there isn't?"
I stood, fists clenched. Facts. I needed facts.
7:00 PM – I argued with Cassius. About what? Marienne.
After 7:00 PM – I blacked out. Cause? Unknown. Likely a punch to my temples by Cassius.
Midnight – Cassius seen leaving the gathering.
After Midnight – Cassius found dead in the lake.
My problem? I had two hours unaccounted for.
I exhaled sharply.
There was one more place I needed to check.
I arrived at the dorms, my cap still low, my steps careful.
I crouched near the side wall, brushing my fingers over the dirt.
If Cassius had never returned to his dorm, then where had he gone after leaving his friends?
My mind clicked.
What if he had come to find me?
What if… he found me first?
My fingers trembled. Cassius was confident, but he wasn't reckless. If he saw me in some state, if he tried to confront me…
No. That wasn't proof. That was speculation. I needed evidence.
And then, as if fate was mocking me, I heard a voice behind me.
A Feminine Voice: "Looking for something?"
I turned, slowly.
Isla Vritra stood there, arms crossed, her violet eyes gleaming in the dim light.
I hadn't even heard her approach.
Castor: "Isla... Vritra."
Leaning against the stone railing near the lotus pond, she looked just as unapproachable as ever. Her long purple hair swayed slightly in the breeze, her cold gaze lost in the rippling water. Isla wasn't the kind of person people approached casually. She had no friends, no allies—only admirers who kept their distance.
And yet, I moved toward her.
Her eyes flicked to me as I stopped beside her, but she didn't speak. She was waiting.
Castor: "You were at the assembly. You heard about Cassius."
Isla: "Everyone did."
I studied her expression, searching for something—anything. But Isla was unreadable. Like a statue carved from ice.
Castor: "You were watching me."
This time, a flicker of something crossed her face. Annoyance? Amusement? It was gone too quickly to tell.
Isla: "You ran out of the auditorium like you were guilty of something. It was hard not to notice."
I tensed. She was sharper than I thought.
Castor: "Guilty? That's a strong assumption."
Isla: "Then why are you investigating Cassius' death?"
My blood went cold.
So she had been watching me.
Castor: "Because I don't like mysteries."
Isla: "Really? Or are you just trying to prove something to yourself?"
I clenched my jaw. She was too perceptive.
Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. Then, finally, Isla sighed.
Isla: "I don't know if this will help, but I saw something last night."
My pulse quickened.
Isla: "Cassius snuck out past midnight. He wasn't alone. He met someone."
The world tilted slightly.
Castor: "Who?"
Isla: "I couldn't see their face. But they were taller than him."
Taller. That wasn't much, but it was enough.
Cassius hadn't died in his dorm. He hadn't been alone. Someone had lured him out. Someone had killed him.
And now, I had my first real lead.
I finally put all the pieces together.
I wasn't the killer or murderer of Cassius Veldane.
It was the person that Cassius had met last night after sneaking out of the supposed gathering.
I fought with Cassius at around 7:00 PM. It's safe to say, the fight ended in me passed out and Cassius injured. After that, there's no details on what happened to me but there's eyewitnesses of Cassius being completely fine.
He had a gathering with his friends but he seemed uneasy and was planning to meet someone.
Around this time, I somehow made it to the male dorms and passed out right infront of them, for Ethan to help me.
During this time period, Cassius met this "person" and it's safe to assume he got murdered by him.
That's the entire story. If I did have two hours unaccounted for, it's highly unlikely I would've went after Cassius and even so, no one saw me. Only Ethan did, when I was passed out.
And the person Isla saw Cassius meet up with was taller then him, and I was the same height as Cassius, at about five foot six.
Someone lured him out, killed him, dumped his body in the lake, possibly moved my unconscious body near the crime scene to frame me.
That was the entire story. So, it begs me to ask—who is the real killer?
Too many questions and possibilities but for the time being—I can rest assured I didn't do it. My dark passenger will subside now.
Or did you?
Shut up.
There could be an inconsistency in any of the reports you got so far. That inconsistency might be what's making you think you didn't do it, when in fact you did do it.
Just shut up. Get out of my head—!
I find the Demara sisters near the courtyard, their usual air of playful mischief replaced with something more serious. Nicole is pacing, her hands gripping a clipboard, while Aria stands beside her, arms crossed, brows furrowed in deep thought.
The moment Nicole spots me, she waves me over.
Nicole: "Castor! Perfect timing. We were just talking about this whole Cassius thing. Insane, right?"
Aria doesn't say anything, but she watches me closely, as if trying to read something from my face.
Castor: "Yeah. Insane."
Nicole: "We're gathering signatures for a petition. We're proposing the school hire parole officers to guard the campus. You know, in case something like this happens again."
Parole officers. Armed guards.
It makes sense. Someone was killed. And if the academy wasn't already in full crisis mode, they soon would be.
I take the clipboard and glance over the signatures. A lot of names already. People were scared, and when people are scared, they look for anything that makes them feel safe—even if it won't actually solve the problem.
Castor: "Think it'll work?"
Nicole: "It's worth trying. And hey, the more signatures we get, the more pressure we can put on the administration."
Aria: "You don't have to sign if you don't want to."
There's something in her tone. Almost like she's testing me.
Castor: "I'll sign it."
Because not signing it would make me look suspicious. And right now, the last thing I need is suspicion.
I scrawl my name at the bottom.
Nicole: "Thanks, Castor. You're the best."
Aria still watches me, but she doesn't say anything else.
As I hand the clipboard back, one thought lingers in my mind:
Parole officers wouldn't have stopped Cassius from dying. But maybe they'd stop the next person.
The waterfall. A quiet place, isolated enough that people rarely come here unless they're seeking solitude. Today, that's exactly what I need.
I sit on one of the cold, moss-covered rocks, staring at the water cascading down, crashing against the jagged stones below. It drowns out the noise in my head, the chaos of the day.
Cassius Veldane is dead. Murdered. And the academy is doing what academies do best—putting on a show of grief, making sure everything looks presentable. His memorial is in less than an hour.
I rub my temples, inhaling deeply. Today has been... something.
I started my morning questioning whether I killed someone. I talked to Ethan, trying to piece together my missing time. Isla Vritra, cold and untouchable, dropped a clue in my lap—Cassius met someone at midnight, sneaking off into the dark. And now? Now I'm signing petitions and pretending like any of this is normal.
It's not.
It never was.
I close my eyes, listening to the steady roar of the waterfall. I should be preparing for the memorial, but instead, I let myself sit in the silence, processing. If I want to survive this academy, if I want to find Marienne, I need to be smart. No reckless moves. No unnecessary attention.
The paranoia, the staged mourning, the tension in the air—I need to play along.
I push myself up, stretching. The sun is lower now, golden light filtering through the trees. Time to go.
By the time I reach my dorm, the halls are already quieter, students dressing in formal black. I strip out of my regular clothes and change into something more fitting for a memorial—dark slacks, a button-up, nothing flashy. Just enough to blend in.
As I adjust my collar in the mirror, my reflection stares back at me.
You didn't kill him.
I don't know if I believe it yet. But I need to find out.
The auditorium is packed. Rows upon rows of students dressed in black, their faces a mix of solemnity and forced grief. The air is thick with tension, the kind that only exists when people feel like they have to perform their sadness.
At the front, a large portrait of Cassius Veldane looms over the crowd. Smug even in death. His parents sit in the front row, their grief raw and unrestrained. Unlike the rest of the room, they aren't performing. Their loss is real.
The headmistress, Morgan Vale, stands on the stage, commanding silence without even needing to ask.
Morgan Vale: "Today, we honor the life of Cassius Veldane, a student of great ambition and excellence."
Ambition. Excellence. Nice words to say at a funeral for a guy who built his reputation on arrogance. And yet, he wasn't all bad. That's what they'll say today. That's what they have to say.
Morgan Vale: "Despite his youth, Cassius achieved remarkable things. He was an exceptional duelist, a scholar in the making, and a leader among his peers."
A leader? Now that's a stretch. But I keep my face unreadable, like everyone else.
One by one, students and faculty come up to speak about him. Friends. Professors. People who probably hated him two weeks ago but are now waxing poetic about his "legacy."
I scan the crowd, watching reactions. Who looks guilty? Who looks too composed? The student council sits together, a collection of pristine uniforms and polished masks. Snowflake Everhart watches with cold, unreadable eyes. Isla Vritra, distant and unaffected.
Ethan shifts beside me, hands in his pockets. Misha stares at the floor, lost in thought.
Then Cassius' father stands up.
Mr. Veldane: "My son… My son was a bright light. He was headstrong, yes, but he was destined for greatness. And now, he's gone."
His voice cracks, and for the first time, the performance fades. This is real. A father burying his son.
Guilt twists in my stomach.
Not because I killed him.
Because I don't know if I did.
The speeches continue, each more grandiose than the last. Cassius was many things—a rival, a pain in the ass—but he didn't deserve to end up in a lake, alone and discarded.
Who put him there?
The real killer is here. Watching. Listening. Blending in.
And I'm going to find them.