"Not all secrets are buried. Some walk beside you, cloaked in uniforms and smiles."
_ _ _ _ _
The lights returned to full glow, but the mood in the Grand Hall remained dim. Students slowly began to file out, their conversations hushed—some excited, some anxious, many unsure.
Lucien stood still for a moment, eyes on the fading holographic display. His mind had already begun analyzing every word Arch-Dean Caldra had spoken, every subtle threat buried in her elegant delivery.
"Well," Silas said, exhaling, "that was comforting."
"She didn't even blink once," Lucien murmured.
"She doesn't need to," Nyx said. "Caldra Virell is known for her memory. She once recited the Academy's entire penal code from memory. In three languages."
Silas grimaced. "She sounds like the kind of woman who files complaints about people breathing too loudly."
Nyx smirked. "And the kind who'll notice if you skip class."
They walked together through the exit corridors of the hall, the towering stained-glass windows casting fractured light over the sea of uniforms.
"The Obsidian Court," Lucien said, more to himself. "They're students, but they get to police the rest of us?"
Nyx gave him a side glance. "Not just police. Investigate. Punish. Protect, if they feel like it. And sometimes… recruit.
"Sounds dangerous."
"It is," she said simply. "Some say they're just puppets for the faculty. Others say they've got their own agenda. I say both are probably true."
Silas rubbed the back of his neck. "And here I was hoping this place would be your standard elite school with creepy dorms and rich-kid drama."
"It is that," Nyx said. "But add surveillance, sabotage, and psychological warfare. Then sprinkle in a few secrets that are better off buried."
Lucien's eyes followed a group of upper-tier students passing by. They moved differently—confident, quiet, dangerous. He recognized the look. Predators disguised as scholars.
"There's a game going on," he said quietly.
Nyx nodded. "Always has been."
Silas glanced between them. "You two talk like this isn't your first time walking into chaos."
Lucien gave a slight smirk. "Maybe we just know how to read a battlefield."
They stepped out into the courtyard. The sun had dipped lower now, casting Academia Noctis in golden light and long, eerie shadows.
"So what now?" Silas asked.
"Now," Nyx said, brushing her hair behind her ear, "we prepare for our first classes tomorrow. You don't want to get caught off guard. The professors here don't just give tests. They design puzzles that bite."
Lucien's gaze drifted upward, toward the towering structure at the heart of the Academy. Somewhere behind those walls, the true game was unfolding.
This school… this city within a city... It's a chessboard. And someone's already making moves.
Lucien walked in silence, the words spoken by the Dean replaying in his head.
"Power is earned… and watched."
He couldn't tell if it was a warning or a threat.
Beside him, Silas was practically bouncing. "Did you hear that part about faculty sponsoring students? Imagine getting handpicked by a professor. Instant status."
Nyx gave him a side glance. "You'd still have to survive the Court's attention."
"That's half the fun," Silas grinned. "What about you, Lucien? You're awfully quiet."
Lucien shrugged, choosing his words carefully. "Just trying to process it all."
But the truth was, he wasn't thinking about the Court or the rankings.
He was thinking about the Arc Dean.
Not her speech—but her eyes. The moment they'd swept the hall, they lingered just a second longer on Lucien than anyone else. Cold. Calculating. Like recognition.
Lucien didn't like it.
---
By the time they returned to their dorm wing in House Umbra, night had crept in. The hallways glowed with soft, violet lighting, and holographic banners floated above each door, displaying names and tier standings—most of which were still blank.
Inside his room, Lucien locked the door and pulled out the slim black notebook.
He flipped to a dog-eared page—a photo of his mother, taken years ago in front of an anonymous research facility. Her face was blurred slightly, but the nameplate on her coat was clear:
Dr. Selene Vale – Aether Division
Below it, he'd scribbled one of the only surviving lines from a shredded lab report:
"Subject Alpha's cognitive link to astral mapping exceeds expected parameters. Must be contained until further notice."
There was no context. No follow-up.
And now, the Arc Dean had used the term astral cognition when describing House Umbra's specialization.
Coincidence?
Lucien didn't believe in those.
He was still staring at the notebook when a knock tapped softly at the door.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. No one had any reason to visit him. Not now.
He slid the notebook into a drawer, locked it, and crossed the room.
The door hissed open.
Nyx leaned against the frame, arms crossed, her usual playfully unreadable expression absent.
"You always leave your door unlocked?"
"I don't," Lucien replied.
She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. "I figured you'd be awake. You don't strike me as the early sleeper type."
Lucien studied her. She looked... different tonight. Still sharp, still confident—but there was a certain caution in her eyes. Like she was treading somewhere unfamiliar.
"I take it this isn't a social call," he said, closing the door behind her.
Nyx smirked faintly, but it faded fast. "I watched you during the Arc Dean's speech. You weren't bored. You were calculating. Then when he mentioned the Aether Division, you flinched. Just barely."
Lucien didn't respond.
She stepped closer. "You know something about it, don't you?"
Lucien's jaw tensed. "Why does it matter to you?"
Nyx didn't blink. "Because people who flinch at words usually have stories. And here, stories have consequences."
He looked away. "What makes you think I'd share mine with you?"
She moved past him, glancing at his desk, his books, the locked drawer. "You shouldn't. Not until you're sure who's listening. But I'm not just curious, Vale. I'm... cautious. When new players enter the board and don't follow the rules, people like me notice."
Lucien turned to face her. "You're calling me a player?"
She tilted her head. "Aren't you?"
"I didn't come here to play games."
"No one ever does." Her voice softened. "But we all end up playing anyway. The only question is how far you're willing to go."
Lucien was quiet for a moment. Then: "I came here for answers. About someone who disappeared. Someone this school might've buried."
Nyx's gaze flickered. "A parent?"
He didn't answer.
"I understand more than you think," she said. "This place has a way of swallowing people whole. Families. Names. Truth. If you dig too deep without allies, it won't be long before someone notices… and acts."
Lucien stepped closer now, his voice low. "So what are you offering, Nyx? A warning… or an alliance?"
She smiled—slow, razor-sharp. "Maybe both. You're not the only one who wants the truth. But just know this—when the Obsidian Court looks your way, it's not because they're curious. It's because they already know too much."
Without another word, she turned and walked out.
The door slid shut behind her with a quiet hiss.
Lucien stood in the silence, her final words echoing louder than any threat.