...

Just as Si-Woo's hand was about to graze the glowing, red-hued tombstone, a firm grip locked around his wrist. He turned in shock to see Lirin standing behind him, her indigo eyes sharp and her face set in a stern expression.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” she said, her voice low but resolute.

Si-Woo blinked, his thoughts racing. “Lirin? How did you even find me?”

Lirin released his wrist, crossing her arms as she glanced at the ominous tombstone. “When you were taking too long, I figured something was up.

Ha-Yoon was furious when they restrained her from coming, but the guards allowed me through since they know me. I used Toro to track you. But the guards do seem more on edge for some reason, something is amiss in this mansion.”

Si-Woo followed her gaze as Toro emerged, the small, mouse-like creature darting around with nimble precision. “Toro has excellent sight,” Lirin continued. “It might not have a sharp sense of smell, but it more than makes up for it with its ability to track residual traces left by living beings.

It wasn’t too hard to find you once we caught your trail.”

Z, who had been intensely focused on the glowing tombstone, perked up at the mention of Toro. With a sudden burst of energy, the whiteblood wyvern darted toward the small creature, its curious coo echoing through the air. Toro squeaked and quickly vanished, reappearing moments later on Lirin’s shoulder, a smug expression on its tiny face.

Lirin sighed and brushed off some dust from her uniform. “I lost the guard who was with me,” she admitted, her tone annoyed. “But it’s not like they were much help anyway.”

Si-Woo looked back at the tombstone, its red glow still ominous and pulsing faintly. “Why shouldn’t I touch it?” he asked, the curiosity in his voice laced with caution.

Lirin fixed him with an intense stare, her expression deadly serious. “Si-Woo, in a cemetery of sprit tombstones, this one serves a nefarious purpose,” she said, her voice lowering to a near whisper. She stepped closer, her gaze locking onto his. “This shouldn't exist.” Lirin gave him a long look. “ We don’t know what kind of energy it’s emitting,” she said. “Residual traces aren’t always safe to interact with. Some sprit artifacts can contain traps—or worse, curses. You’re better off leaving it alone unless you want to deal with something you can’t handle.”

Her words sent a chill down Si-Woo’s spine as she turned back to the tombstone. “As you know,” Lirin began, “this is the old language of the sprits—used on their tombstones. The sprits believe these symbols offer comfort, a way to feel close to their deceased loved ones. They speak to their departed through these stones but never hear back. It’s a sacred practice.”

Her tone shifted, growing sharper, as she crouched to trace the strange symbols on the tombstone with her finger, careful not to touch the stone itself. “The old language is a blend of hieroglyphs and ancient text. Each tombstone is supposed to symbolize an incantation, a gateway of sorts, connecting the living to the deceased. The tombstone acts as the medium for that connection.”

Si-Woo listened intently, his breathing steady but his chest tight. “Then what makes this one different?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as if afraid of the answer.

Lirin’s lips pressed into a thin line before she spoke. “Because this… this isn’t a connection to the loved ones of the past. This is something else entirely. This tombstone’s glow, the energy radiating from it—it’s corrupted. Twisted.” She stood and brushed off her hands, glancing at him again. “Whatever lies beyond this medium isn’t someone’s loved one. It’s something dark. Something dangerous.” Lirin’s voice trembled slightly, though her expression remained stern. " This really worries me,” she admitted, her gaze locked on the glowing tombstone. She knelt again, pointing at the faint burgundy stains that traced through shallow grooves in the stone. “Not just because of the color—that dried burgundy hue—but because the usual hieroglyphs are missing.”

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Si-Woo leaned closer, his brow furrowing. “Missing?”

“In their place,” Lirin explained, “are small absorption wells. Do you see these?” She gestured to the slight indentations across the stone, shaped like shallow, uneven bowls. “Some gravely saddened sprits used to create these. They believed that by offering blood as a sacrifice, they could bring their loved ones back.”

Si-Woo’s eyes widened in shock. “Bring them back? You mean resurrection?”

Lirin nodded gravely. “It’s called sacrificial magic. This practice is forbidden in all the lands of fae and sprits. No record exists of the magic ever working. But it dates back so far that its origins are buried in history, predating even to the Mu era.”

She stood, dusting off her knees and looking Si-Woo directly in the eyes.

“This kind of tombstone shouldn’t be here. Not in Ondur, not anywhere. It’s a relic of a dangerous and desperate time, and its presence alone is deeply troubling.”

Si-Woo shivered as he glanced back at the stone. The weight of her words pressed down on him, making the air around the tombstone feel heavier. “But why here?” he asked, almost in a whisper. “And why now?”

Lirin shook her head, her jaw tight. “That’s what I want to know too.”

...

The room fell silent. Sartah and Isah exchanged uneasy glances, though Isah’s golden eyes, usually so intense, seemed to dim slightly as he remained silent.

“Our capital,” Quorge continued, his tone sharper now, “has been compromised.”

Oapa stiffened at the words, his claws flexing instinctively. “What do you mean, compromised?” he asked, leaning forward.

Sartah, the environmental chief, interjected, her voice calm but firm.

“Suspicious activities have been reported within the inner sanctum of the kingdom. Citizens have been reporting seeing cloaked beings entering and leaving the kingdom late at night, carrying large baggage. Sensitive information has been tampered with, and unregistered presences have been detected near areas of anomalies in Yohen. Guards have gone missing without a trace, and even stranger—some are reporting that they can’t remember entire shifts.”

“It’s not just an external threat,” Quorge added. “The signs point to someone—or something—operating from within. And we believe it’s tied to the disturbances with the lesser sprits.”

Isah finally stirred, his deep, commanding voice reverberating through the hall. “The patterns are too deliberate to be coincidence. Whoever is responsible has extensive knowledge of our kingdom’s inner workings.

They’ve managed to evade detection despite our best efforts.”

Elder Valun’s gravelly voice cut through the tension. “And what of the fae? Could their recent advancements be linked to this breach?”

Elder Mira shook her head, her silvery fur catching the light as she spoke. “We must not jump to conclusions, Valun. The fae have stood by their word since the treaty was signed. King Morey is no foolish ruler, and his trust in our community is evident. He allowed Oapa to attend the academy, ensured his safety, and permitted their younger generation to integrate with ours. This infiltration could just as easily be a force unknown to both of our kinds.”

Oapa’s tail flicked in agitation as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. “If the capital has been compromised,” he said slowly, his voice tight, “then why wasn’t I informed earlier? My role in the academy—”

“—is precisely why we waited,” Sartah interrupted gently, though her silver eyes squinted slightly, as if suspecting Oapa’s objection ran deeper. “Your presence in Yohen has been invaluable, Oapa. If there is a connection between this infiltration and external forces, your position may be our best chance at uncovering it.”

Quorge leaned forward, his gaze fixed firmly on Oapa. “Your rapport with the fae students and their leadership offers a unique perspective that we need now more than ever. But we had to confirm the threat before involving you.”

Oapa’s gaze hardened as he absorbed their reasoning, but he nodded reluctantly. “What’s the plan?” he asked, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions churning within him.

“For now,” Quorge replied, “you continue your duties as usual. Gather what information you can from the academy. Stay vigilant, but do not draw unnecessary attention to yourself. Report anything that seems amiss—anything at all.”

“And the infiltration?” Oapa pressed, his tone unwavering.

“We’ll handle it from within,” Quorge said resolutely. “But the kingdom’s safety depends on our collective vigilance.”

The weight of responsibility settled on Oapa’s shoulders, but he met Quorge’s gaze head-on. “Understood.”