Saint Laurentius Academy had a strange way of making everything feel distant, even when the world around you seemed close. The days blurred together, a fog of faces, lectures, and distractions. But there was always something lurking beneath the surface, something unspoken. Alexandrov couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, not just by his peers but by the shadows that clung to the academy's ancient walls.
It was on the third day that he noticed it. A small detail, easy to overlook, but one that would change everything.
He had been sitting in the corner of the school's library, the scent of parchment and dust mingling with the faint hum of magic that lingered in the air. It was quieter than usual, the usual cacophony of voices stilled by the presence of the full moon. Alexandrov had always been drawn to places like this—places of secrets, where knowledge hid in plain sight. But something today felt different.
He looked up from the ancient tome he was reading, his gaze flicking across the room. His sharp senses picked up a change in the atmosphere—an almost imperceptible shift in the air.
A shadow crossed the aisle. Alexandrov didn't need to turn to see who it was. Her presence was unmistakable.
Amalia.
Her figure was framed by the tall windows, where the light of the moon bathed her in a soft, silvery glow. She was searching the shelves, her hand trailing along the spines of books, but there was something in the way she moved. It was the same way she had moved the first night he saw her—the fluid grace, the hint of tension beneath her calm facade.
He couldn't explain it, but there was a connection between them. Something deep and primal.
His heart, long silent, stirred at the thought.
But before he could gather his thoughts, a loud bang echoed through the room. Clifton Cole, the student council president, had thrown a book to the floor in frustration. His expression was twisted with annoyance as he scanned the library, his eyes narrowing when they landed on Alexandrov.
Amalia seemed oblivious to the commotion, but the moment her eyes met Alexandrov's, a flicker of something passed between them. A knowing look, like a shared secret. But just as quickly, she turned away, her back straightening.
Clifton, on the other hand, wasn't so subtle. He stormed over, his footsteps heavy with purpose.
"What's the matter with you, Limonhus?" he growled. "You think you can just waltz in here and do whatever you want? This is my school."
Alexandrov didn't flinch. His gaze stayed steady, calculating, as Clifton came to a stop in front of him.
"I'm just reading," Alexandrov said calmly, his voice a smooth baritone that held no trace of fear. "I suggest you do the same."
Clifton's eyes flicked over to Amalia, who was now on the other side of the room, absorbed in the shelves. His jaw was clenched, but he didn't say another word. Instead, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the library, muttering something under his breath.
Alexandrov turned his attention back to Amalia, but she was no longer looking at him. Her eyes were focused on something—or someone—else. A subtle unease gripped his chest. It wasn't jealousy; it was something deeper. He wasn't sure if he liked what it implied, but it was undeniable.
Later that evening, Alexandrov found himself once again wandering the academy's grounds, though this time, he was alone. The stone path crunched beneath his boots as he walked through the maze of hedges and trees, the moonlight bathing everything in an ethereal glow.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it in the pit of his stomach—the uneasy sense that something was about to happen. His instincts, honed over centuries of survival, were rarely wrong.
As he walked deeper into the gardens, the soft rustle of leaves was the only sound that accompanied him. That is, until he heard it.
A faint whisper, barely audible over the wind. It was coming from the shadows, from beyond the reach of the moonlight.
"Alexandrov Limonhus…"
His eyes narrowed. The voice was low, barely a breath in the air, but there was no mistaking it. It was calling his name. He followed the sound, his steps quickening as he moved toward the hidden corner of the garden. The moment he reached it, a figure stepped out of the darkness.
A woman. Tall, draped in shadow, her features obscured by a cloak.
"Who are you?" Alexandrov asked, his tone sharp, demanding an answer.
The woman didn't speak immediately. Instead, she stepped forward into the dim light, revealing the cruel twist of her lips, a smirk that hinted at secrets she was eager to share.
"I know what you are," she said, her voice carrying a mocking lilt. "And I know what you want."
Alexandrov's hand twitched toward the dagger hidden in his coat, but he didn't pull it out. He was not worried about her—yet. He didn't know who she was or why she had chosen to speak to him now. But there was something in her eyes. A knowing look, the kind that suggested she had power.
"What do you know?" Alexandrov asked, the words barely escaping his lips before the woman reached into her cloak and pulled out a small vial filled with dark liquid.
"The truth," she said. "Your past, your future. Everything you've been searching for, Alexandrov."
He eyed the vial suspiciously. It wasn't a gift—it was a tool. A weapon. And for the first time since arriving at Saint Laurentius, Alexandrov felt a genuine twinge of fear. He had survived countless battles, faced enemies from all corners of the world. But something about this woman was different.
"Who are you?" he repeated, his voice harder now.
The woman's smirk widened, but she said nothing more. Instead, she turned and walked back into the darkness, her footsteps silent as the night itself.
The next day, Alexandrov couldn't shake the feeling that his life was about to spiral out of control. The strange woman's words echoed in his mind as he walked the halls of Saint Laurentius Academy. The shadows were darker, the whispers more pronounced. And the presence of something—or someone—loomed closer.
Amalia.
His thoughts kept drifting back to her. He had tried to push it aside, tell himself it was nothing. But there was something about her—something that was pulling him in, deeper than he'd ever been pulled before. And now, with the strange woman's cryptic warning, he couldn't help but feel that their connection was not as simple as fate. It was something darker.
And that scared him.