The clock struck midnight.
The academy was quiet, too quiet. The only sounds were the occasional creak of the ancient building and the whispers of the wind slipping through the cracks in the stone. Alexandrov stood at the edge of the academy grounds, his figure outlined in the soft glow of the moonlight. The air was sharp, carrying a faint tang of danger that he had come to associate with this place.
His green-blue eyes scanned the horizon, searching for something—someone—but it wasn't the usual prey. No, this time, it was her.
Amalia.
She had been on his mind constantly since that moment in the library, their eyes locking across the dusty shelves. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a pull, something deeper than mere curiosity. She was a mystery, one he needed to solve. And more than that, she felt... familiar. Like a piece of his soul that had been missing for too long.
But there was more to her than he could decipher, and in a place like Saint Laurentius, mysteries were dangerous. The academy wasn't just a school—it was a living, breathing entity with secrets that crawled beneath its stone walls like insects.
As the wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the old trees around him, Alexandrov's mind wandered back to the strange sensation he had felt last night in the library. The pull, the magnetic force drawing him closer to Amalia, had been too strong to ignore. But what troubled him was the way she had responded—calmly, as if she already knew he would come.
He knew that feeling well. It was a sign of something deeper. Something tied to fate.
The problem was, fate could be cruel.
With a swift movement, Alexandrov turned away from the horizon and headed toward the darkened courtyard. The shadows seemed to stretch and bend with him, as though they were his constant companions. He welcomed the solitude, the silence, but as always, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind—a sense that he was being watched.
Inside, the academy hummed with quiet life. Students drifted in and out of the common areas, but most had already retired to their rooms for the night. Alexandrov's footsteps echoed through the marble halls as he made his way toward the east wing.
The moment he entered the shadowed corridor, the air seemed to grow thicker, heavier. It was as if the very walls were closing in on him, pressing down with an unseen weight. He had felt this before—on missions, when he was being hunted.
A presence.
It was no coincidence that he was being followed tonight. He had been aware of it for days now. The way people looked at him, the furtive glances, the whispers that trailed off whenever he passed. But it wasn't just the students. It was the academy itself. Something about this place didn't sit right.
And then there was Mrs. Jennifer Decker—the mysterious teacher who had appeared out of nowhere with her cold smile and cryptic words. He had seen her a few more times in passing, always when he was least expecting it. But it wasn't her that he was concerned about.
It was the fact that she knew him—knew who he was.
Amalia was in her room, but Alexandrov hadn't been able to get close enough to speak with her. He had tried, of course. He couldn't stay away, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it was dangerous to get too involved. But there was something about her, something in the way her eyes met his that made everything else fade into the background.
He had already been through too much betrayal in his life to let himself be weak again. But this—this was different.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from James.
"Meet me in the courtyard. It's time we talk. Trust no one."
Alexandrov's lip curled into a small smile, the first genuine one in days.
Moments later, he arrived at the courtyard. The moon was full tonight, and it bathed the stone in an ethereal glow. The shadows seemed to move with a life of their own, and for a moment, he couldn't help but wonder if it was all in his head.
James was already waiting for him, standing by the fountain. His long dark coat fluttered in the breeze as he turned to face Alexandrov.
"I've been hearing things," James said, his tone low, his eyes scanning the surroundings with sharp focus. "Things about you."
"Things about me?" Alexandrov raised an eyebrow.
"I don't trust Mrs. Decker," James said bluntly. "She's not who she says she is."
Alexandrov's gaze narrowed. "I know. But what's more troubling is that she knows more about me than she should."
James paused, his expression darkening. "I don't like it. There's something off about this place. The academy. The people here. It's all too convenient, too quiet."
Alexandrov crossed his arms, his eyes now fixed on the shadows creeping along the stone walls. "You think they know what I am?"
James hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "They're watching you. Watching both of us. And the more you stay here, the more it's going to hurt."
There was a sharpness in his voice, a warning.
Alexandrov knew the truth of it, though. The academy was a trap. But he had made a choice. He had come here for a reason, and nothing—nothing—was going to stop him from finding the answers he needed. Not even the academy's secrets.
"Then we'll move carefully," Alexandrov replied, his voice steady. "We're in too deep now."
Just then, a sudden chill swept through the courtyard. It wasn't the cool night air. No, this was something different. Something tangible.
James stiffened. "Did you feel that?"
Before Alexandrov could respond, a shape moved in the shadows. A figure appeared, tall and lithe, emerging from the darkness like a phantom.
It was her.
Amalia.
Her eyes met his across the courtyard, the intensity of their connection sending a jolt through him.
"Amalia..." Alexandrov's voice caught in his throat, but she was already moving toward him, her footsteps silent against the stone.
She stopped a few feet away, her face unreadable. There was something about her tonight—something different. Her usual calm was gone, replaced by an edge of urgency.
"I need to speak with you," she said quietly, her voice a whisper in the night. "It's important."
Alexandrov took a step toward her, but James moved forward too, placing a hand on his arm.
"Wait," James said, his voice sharp. "There's something wrong with her. Don't trust her."
But it was too late. Alexandrov had already made up his mind.
Turning to James, he gave him a brief nod. "I'll be fine."
Amalia led him away from the courtyard and into the shadow of a nearby building. The academy's lights flickered in the distance, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls.
"I know what you are," Amalia said softly, her gaze intense. "And I know why you're here."
Alexandrov's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
Amalia hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not... just a student."
For a moment, Alexandrov was speechless, the air between them thick with unspoken words. His mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle that had become Amalia Winter. But there was something else now.
Something far darker than he had anticipated.
"You're not the only one who's been chosen," she continued, her voice low. "The academy is more than it seems. There are forces at work here—forces that are tied to both of us."
A flash of understanding dawned in his eyes. "You're part of this. This... prophecy."
Amalia nodded, her eyes flashing with a mixture of fear and determination. "We're all connected. And there are people here who will stop at nothing to see us fail."
Alexandrov's pulse quickened. His breath, steady until now, faltered for a moment. "What do you need from me?"
"Trust me," she said, her eyes locking with his. "You won't survive without me."
As the shadows continued to deepen around them, Alexandrov realized that this was no longer just about vengeance. It was about something much larger, something he hadn't yet begun to comprehend.
The truth was waiting. And he was about to face it head-on.