Chapter 24: Whispers in the Dark

[Location: Verm Evocaier Academy – Drifter’s Room – Night – Year: 1092 Ad Felicitas]

The ceiling spun in the dim light. Moonlight crept through the cracks of the window, casting strange patterns that danced along the walls. Each breath felt heavy, as if pulling an invisible weight. Drifter’s eyes were wide open, refusing to close despite his muscles screaming with exhaustion.

Every time his eyelids grew heavy, the images came crashing back: Luna lying amidst the rubble, her skin blackened and blistered. Friedrich, collapsed, his body unrecognizable. Alma, once so cheerful, now a charred figure among the ruins. Familiar faces twisted into masks of pain, their eyes wide in their final moments of agony.

His heart pounded, sweat dripping from his temple. His hands gripped the bedsheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white, desperate for an anchor to reality that felt increasingly distant. The air was suffocating, as though the walls were slowly closing in, driving the horrifying visions closer.

"Just a dream," he whispered shakily, trying to reassure himself.

"Just... a dream..."

Sharp nails dug into his palms, creating sharp pinpricks of pain. The sting served as an anchor, pulling his mind back from the abyss that threatened to consume it. But the shadows lingered, dancing at the edge of his vision, mocking his efforts to stay awake.

The Lumina Core on his wrist—normally a source of comfort with its soft hum—now flickered erratically. Its light trembled, like a frightened heartbeat sensing the encroaching darkness.

He rolled onto his side, staring blankly at the shadows that seemed to shift on their own in the corners of the room. The darkness there felt thicker, deeper—like something lurking within, watching with unseen eyes.

With trembling hands, his fingers brushed against his Lumina Core, activating the Arcane Network screen. A soft blue light spread across the room, chasing away some of the oppressive darkness. Cheerful laughter from a comedy show filled the silence—familiar sounds meant to comfort sleepless nights.

His tense muscles began to relax, bit by bit. The absurd gestures and simple jokes on the screen created a fragile illusion of safety. But the calm didn’t last.

The screen froze.

The laughter stopped mid-sentence.

The temperature in the room plummeted. The Lumina Core on his wrist dimmed to a faint flicker, nearly extinguished. His breath became visible in the sudden cold, a thin mist swirling in the icy air. In the corner of the room, the shadows shifted—not a trick of tired eyes but something alive, moving like black ink seeking form.

Drifter sat up abruptly, his gaze locked on the frozen screen, his brows furrowed.

"What the...?" he muttered.

His spine stiffened, every instinct screaming danger. He forced his shaky legs to touch the frigid floor, falling into a defensive stance etched into his muscle memory.

"...Who’s there?" His voice was weak, barely recognizable, laced with fear.

The shadow swirled, twisting like dark smoke dancing through the air. Slowly, it began to take shape—a figure both familiar and alien. Its face shifted constantly, like a reflection on rippling water. One moment it bore the features of someone he knew, then the next it was something unrecognizable and incomprehensible.

The figure spoke, its voice light, almost playful, but reverberating strangely, as though coming from many mouths at once.

“Oh, my dear Drifter... always so tense.”

A chill shot down his spine, freezing him in place. The voice, though teasing, carried a note that made his blood run cold. There was something familiar about it, but it was deeply, terribly wrong.

The figure stepped closer, its shadow sliding smoothly across the floor like dark mist. The smile on its face was a mockery of warmth—gentle but evoking a primal fear that dug deep into his core.

“Don’t be so startled, my dear. I’m just here to talk." it said, its tone almost comforting.

Drifter wanted to move but something held him back. The sheer weight of the figure’s presence locked his muscles in place. He forced his voice out, hoarse and trembling with fear.

“What... do you want? Who are you?”

The figure didn’t answer immediately. It simply stared, its ever-shifting face breaking into a faint, enigmatic smile.

The shadow laughed, a low, resonant sound that echoed off the cold walls. It carried a strange warmth, like the greeting of an old companion, yet there was something dripping beneath it—a creeping doom that filled the room. The temperature dropped further, and Drifter’s breath hung in the frozen air like a thin mist.

The shadows surrounding the figure coiled tighter, pulling together, creating a shape almost resembling a human body, though it constantly shifted, flowing like dark liquid.

The Mysterious Figure took another step forward, its face flickering for a moment into something vaguely familiar, though too blurred to fully recognize.

"Oh, what I want... that doesn’t matter." With a light wave of its hand, the Mysterious Figure brushed off Drifter’s question as if discarding something insignificant.

"But who I am?" Its face paused, eyes glinting sharply, like a freshly honed blade.

"Does that really matter to you?"

The way it moved, the way it spoke—everything felt wrong. Too relaxed, too familiar. Drifter’s instincts screamed at him to attack, to drive this thing out of his room, but his body remained frozen, as if the very air around them had him in a vice grip. His jaw tightened, fists clenching so hard his nails bit into his palms.

"This is about the Black Cube, isn’t it? You’re connected to it, aren’t you?" His voice was low, trembling slightly, but his determination remained firm.

A slow smile spread across the figure’s face. Its lips curved, but its eyes stayed cold, empty—like a mask wearing humanity. Tilting its head, it gazed at Drifter with something that resembled affection, though it was laced with mockery.

"The Cube, you say? An interesting topic..." Its tone dripped with irony.

"But no, tonight isn’t about that."

The figure stepped closer, its movements smooth, gliding over the cold floor.

"Tonight is about you... and what lies ahead."

The words hit Drifter like a blow. His body tensed, his breathing quickened, and his stomach churned with an unbearable nausea. The images from his nightmares flooded back—Everyone—all burned, destroyed, leaving only ash and ruin. A cold bead of sweat slid down his neck.

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" His voice cracked, the fear he tried to suppress spilling over.

The room grew darker. The shadows around him thickened, pressing in from every direction, creating an oppressive weight that was suffocating. The figure moved closer again, its smile fading, replaced by an expression almost tender—yet still wrong, deeply wrong.

"Those visions, my dear. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? The academy in flames... your friends, silenced forever. Tell me..."

The figure leaned forward, its face shifting again, momentarily resembling someone Drifter once knew.

"How does it feel to witness all that?"

Drifter gasped, his breath catching in his throat. The images surged back with startling clarity—faces he desperately tried to forget, burned and broken amidst the ruins. The pain was so vivid it felt as though the figure had pulled the memories directly from his mind.

"It’s... just a dream!" he shouted, his voice trembling, almost desperate.

The figure let out a low laugh, its mocking tone cutting through the air like a blade.

"Oh, my dear. Do you truly believe it’s just a dream? What if... it isn’t?"

Drifter’s chest grew tighter, his breaths shortening. The figure’s words pierced his thoughts like icy needles, unraveling every strand of logic. What if the dreams weren’t just dreams? What if they were a warning? He stepped back, his face pale, his body trembling.

The figure smiled again, though its form began to flicker, its shadow vibrating as if tearing at the seams. Even as it faded, its oppressive presence still weighed heavily on Drifter, making his knees feel weak.

"I’m not saying anything, my dear. Merely... offering a perspective."

Its voice softened, dripping with false reassurance. Tilting its head, it observed Drifter like a scientist examining a specimen.

"What if the dreams are a warning, hmm? What if they’re a reality waiting just ahead?"

Something within Drifter snapped. His jaw clenched, anger flashing through the fear.

"If you’re threatening me—" His voice was hoarse, filled with rage, but the figure cut him off with a dismissive chuckle.

"Oh no, no. No threats here. Just... a new perspective."

Its voice was like a gentle whisper, yet it filled every corner of Drifter’s mind, echoing relentlessly. The figure leaned in closer, its shadow nearly engulfing him. Its voice dropped to an almost intimate tone, layered with mystery.

"Think carefully. What if you’re not strong enough to stop it?"

The words hit like an icy storm. Drifter’s confidence wavered, fear and doubt clawing at him. The nightmare images were too vivid, too painful to ignore. His heart pounded, fighting to overcome the gnawing uncertainty, but the shadow of the figure’s words had already rooted deeply within him.

Suddenly, the figure stepped back. Its shadow began to dissolve, its form unraveling like smoke blown away by the wind. The room’s temperature slowly rose, and the suffocating pressure eased.

"Just something to consider, my dear... until we meet again."

The voice grew distant, fading like an echo until it disappeared entirely.

The light from the Lumina Core returned to normal, its soft hum filling the room again. The Arcane Network screen flickered back to life, resuming the comedy show’s laughter, but it now felt hollow, meaningless.

Drifter stared at the empty corner of the room, his voice barely a whisper.

"What... just happened?"

He collapsed to the floor, his shoulders heavy as though carrying the weight of the world. The laughter from the screen continued, but his mind was a storm of chaos, the shadows of his dreams no longer just dreams.

[Location: Verm Evocaier Academy – Morning – Year: 1092 Ad Felicitas]

Drifter walked briskly, his gaze vacant. The sound of footsteps and the warm morning sunlight might as well not exist to him.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

As he turned into the main courtyard, he spotted familiar faces: Lorcan Grindelwald, Sloane Gast, and Reine Lindt, who were getting ready to enter the main building.

"Morning, Drifter," said Reine, giving a polite nod.

Lorcan, flashing his usual grin, waved casually.

"Yo, old man! What’s the rush? Where’re you off to?" he teased.

"Pulled an all-nighter again? Or..."

"Got dumped, maybe?" added Sloane, smirking.

But Drifter barely acknowledged them with a faint nod, his steps never faltering.

Lorcan, lowering his voice, frowned.

"What’s with him?"

Sloane, now crossing his arms, exhaled sharply.

"No idea. But, seriously... I’ve never seen him this out of it."

Reine tugged lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, his fingers trembling slightly. His gaze lingered on the corridor where Drifter had vanished.

"He’s... not himself. It’s like he’s bearing the weight of something too heavy to share."

Lorcan, unable to stay silent any longer, stepped forward. His voice rose, steady but tinged with concern.

"Hey! Drifter!"

His call echoed through the courtyard.

"You know we’re here for you, right? Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to do this alone."

Drifter paused mid-step. His shoulders slackened slightly, but his expression remained distant. Turning his head just enough to respond, he muttered,

"Thanks."

Without another word, he continued on his way.

Sloane ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in frustration.

"‘Thanks’? That’s all we get? He’s hiding something. Bet it’s the Black Cube again."

Lorcan clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. His voice was quiet but firm, laced with restrained frustration.

"He never asks for help. Seeing him like that... it’s like watching him drown and not being able to do anything."

Reine looked down, biting his lip before speaking softly.

"If it’s about the Black Cube... what can we even do? Even the Grandmasters don’t seem to have any answers."

The three stood in silence, their eyes fixed on the empty corridor Drifter had disappeared into. The morning air, usually warm and inviting, felt cold and heavy, as though Drifter’s lingering shadow had left a weight behind, echoing without sound.

[Location: Verm Evocaier Academy – Arbiter Hall – Late Morning – Year: 1092 Ad Felicitas]

Drifter stopped at the doorway, his breath catching. Near the grand window, Luna Sabriel stood tall, calm as the shadow of twilight, while Alina Walsh’s hands moved lightly, tracing the rhythm of their discussion.

His footsteps echoed as he approached, his eyes locked solely on Luna. Alina noticed him first, her sharp gaze assessing him before giving a slight nod. She walked away with a faint smile, leaving the two alone.

Luna turned slowly, her piercing blue eyes meeting Drifter’s unsettled gaze. Without a word, she seemed to read the storm raging behind his silence.

"What’s wrong?" she asked softly, her voice like a stream attempting to calm a fire.

Drifter hesitated, swallowing hard. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he tried to steady the trembling that had begun.

"Luna... Sometimes, I’m not even sure if I’m awake." His voice cracked, low and weighted.

"I keep... seeing things. Hearing things that aren’t there. It’s like—"

The sentence caught in his throat, and he couldn’t bring himself to say what he feared most—that he might be losing himself.

Luna remained silent, but as she observed him closer, she saw a shadow flicker in his eyes. The light in the hall seemed to dim suddenly. Drifter turned abruptly, his gaze darting around the room, wild and searching, as though something invisible lurked in the corners.

"He’s here..." he whispered, so faintly it was almost inaudible.

But nothing was there. Only the ordinary shadows. Only the faint steps of instructors and students in the background.

"Go on," urged Luna, her voice steady yet firm.

Drifter drew a deep breath, forcing himself to continue. His voice shook slightly, the words spilling out faster as if trying to outrun his own thoughts.

"Last night, I was watching a broadcast on the Arcane Network. But... everything froze. It was like time stopped. And then, he appeared."

His eyes locked onto Luna’s, filled with fear.

"He... called out to me," he said quietly, his voice almost breaking.

"‘My dear Drifter,’ he said. But his face..."

He bit his lip, trying to hold back the trembling in his body.

"It kept changing. I couldn’t... define it."

Luna’s expression hardened slightly, her brows furrowing, but she remained silent.

"I asked him about the Black Cube, but he didn’t answer me directly. He just stared."

His breathing grew uneven, his fists clenching tighter at his sides.

"Then he showed me... something. This academy. Ruins. Everything destroyed. All of you were..."

His voice caught again, his shoulders shaking. He closed his eyes tightly, as if to block out the haunting images.

Luna tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharpening.

"Are you sure it was real? Not just a dream?"

Drifter nodded weakly.

"It was too real. I could smell the blood. I could hear the screams. It was real."

Luna’s eyes narrowed, her mind racing to piece together the fragmented information.

"If he can manipulate time and your perception... this isn’t just a dream. He might be toying with reality itself, making you doubt everything around you." Her tone was firm, but there was an edge of warning in her words.

Drifter stood frozen, his body trembling as whispers of fear crept back in. But this time, it was Luna’s voice that met them head-on.

"Don’t let him control you," she said, her tone soft but resolute.

"That’s what he wants. To make you doubt. To make you weak."

With a heavy breath, Drifter nodded, his words coming out almost like a prayer.

"Thank you, Luna."

Silence fell between them, heavy and meaningful. In the distance, Alina stood by the doorway, her sharp eyes observing the two of them intently. She caught the tension in Drifter’s expression, the restless movement of his hands, and the unwavering seriousness in Luna’s gaze.

Something had shifted—something profound. But instead of stepping forward, Alina leaned casually against the wall, her expression neutral. Her eyes, however, burned with unspoken questions she silently resolved to ask later.

[Location: Verm Evocaier Academy – Friedrich’s Office – Afternoon – Year: 1092 Ad Felicitas]

Crystal lights danced along the corridor, shadows shifting as if alive. Drifter’s footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor, each step burdened with unspoken thoughts. He paused briefly in front of the grand door, holding his breath before pushing it open slowly.

Inside, the room felt warm, but the shadows stretched long and ominous. Friedrich stood behind his desk, his fingers moving languidly through stacks of papers. His gaze was distant, his face showing the weariness he no longer bothered to hide. When his eyes met Drifter’s, he offered a faint smile—reflexive, almost automatic.

"Come in, Drifter. Is there something important you wish to discuss?"

Drifter stepped in and sat down without hesitation, his gaze unwavering and sharp. There was no time for small talk tonight.

"It’s about the Cube. I’ve been thinking about what Madam Lyriel said about her husband. Do you remember? His research, all those years ago."

At the mention of Kalevi, Friedrich’s expression shifted. The weariness in his eyes faded, replaced by a keen, almost surgical focus. He leaned forward slightly, hanging onto Drifter’s words.

"Yes, I remember. It’s been crossing my mind, too. But why bring it up now?"

Leaning closer, Drifter lowered his voice, as if unwilling to let the walls hear him. His fists clenched tightly, the tension in his body evident.

"Have we made any progress? Do we know who’s behind these attacks? Or why they’re so fixated on the Cube?"

Friedrich sighed deeply, his gaze drifting over the scattered papers on his desk. His fingers tapped the wooden surface, a small, unconscious rhythm betraying his unease.

"We’ve pieced together fragments, but nothing concrete yet. Our investigation involves several groups—the Conclave of Eldoria, the Holy Empire of Selvaria, even the Arcadia Republic. But the technology we’re seeing—the military automatons, the Skyship design—doesn’t match anything we’ve encountered before. Even Celestial Forge, our own R&D division, has no record of anything like this. Whoever’s behind it... they’re leagues ahead of us in expertise."

He paused, rubbing his temples, as though trying to untangle an impossibly intricate web.

"According to Eldoria’s government, Kalevi—Caelus’s father—vanished from their research division a few years ago. No trail, no clues. Whatever he was working on... vanished with him."

Drifter’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face taut with barely contained frustration. He ran a hand quickly through his messy hair, but the restless energy in him didn’t subside.

"Someone’s behind this," he said firmly. "Whether it’s an underground faction or something even bigger, technology like this doesn’t just exist unnoticed."

Friedrich watched him in silence, digesting his words carefully.

"You’re not about to point the finger at the Cult of Shadronis again, are you? That’s a stretch. No one would be foolish enough to support them, let alone with technology that rivals—or even surpasses—our Celestial Forge."

Drifter leaned forward, his eyes blazing with determination. His tone was sharp, carrying an edge of urgency.

"What about the academy’s defenses? We can’t just sit back and wait for them to make the next move. They’re already too close. Has the academy ever dealt with anything like this before?"

Friedrich frowned, his brows knitting together, but he shook his head firmly.

"Never. The Order’s influence is too strong. Even the Holy Empire of Selvaria, with all its military power, wouldn’t risk provoking us directly."

"But things are different now," Drifter pressed. "The Cube makes us a target."

Friedrich met his gaze, steadying his breath as he weighed the gravity of those words.

"We’ve already reinforced security since the Cube arrived. That should be enough."

Drifter didn’t back down. His voice grew firmer, cutting through the air with precision.

"Sorry, Professor, but it’s not enough. Since the Cube came here, we’ve seen too many strange events: the Grakling attack led by that girl, the unknown Skyship model, the Azistile incident, the Eternal Keeper, and that masked figure with the skeletal visage... It’s too much. Too many factions could be after the Cube."

Taking a deep breath, his piercing gaze locked onto Friedrich.

"My suggestion: Activate Condition II."

Friedrich’s brows shot up, and his hesitation was clear. His eyes narrowed as he considered the enormity of the proposal.

"You know what you’re asking, Drifter. Condition II is no ordinary measure—it’s a full-scale war readiness protocol."

Drifter didn’t flinch. His silence spoke louder than any argument. He was resolute, like an immovable force in the room.

After a moment, Friedrich lowered his head, deep in thought. When his gaze returned to Drifter, it carried the weight of a decision made.

"Alright. I trust you, Drifter."

Drifter gave a small, deliberate nod, his voice steady.

"Thank you, Professor. I have one more request: Let me oversee the Cube directly at the research center."

Friedrich’s features softened, understanding the gravity of the request. Slowly, he nodded in agreement.

"Very well. I’ll assign extra security. You won’t be alone."

Rising from his seat, Drifter nodded again before turning to leave. As the door closed behind him, silence enveloped the office.

Friedrich stood still, his eyes fixed on the dim reflection of his face in the window. His fingers drummed softly on the desk as his thoughts churned. Slowly, he gathered the scattered papers, a renewed determination flickering in his eyes.

He activated the Lumina Core on his wrist, projecting an image of Luna Sabriel. Her face appeared calm, her piercing gaze cutting through the heavy atmosphere in the room.

"Luna," Friedrich began, his voice steady but laced with concern,

"what’s been going on with Drifter lately? Something feels... off."

Luna’s intense eyes held his, her voice steady but layered with certainty.

"He came to me this morning. He said there was a figure... something that appeared to him. It called out to him, as if it already knew him."

Friedrich frowned, a chill spreading through his chest as her words sank in.

"He said the figure wasn’t of any known species—not human, elf, or anything else we’ve encountered. It was like it came from somewhere entirely... other. It showed him visions—this academy in ruins, engulfed in flames, everyone gone."

His jaw clenched, the unease now hardening into something more tangible, more dangerous.

"He believes it’s connected to the Cube, though he’s not certain yet. This isn’t just a nightmare, Friedrich. It feels... too real."

A heavy silence enveloped them, like a dense fog settling in. Friedrich’s fingers gripped the edge of the desk, the weight of Luna’s words pressing heavily on his mind.

"I’ve already increased the academy’s security. But if this is more than just a vision, we’ll have to keep a closer eye on him. Let me know if anything changes."

Luna nodded, her gaze unwavering.

"Of course. And you... be careful. If someone is targeting the Cube, this is far more dangerous than we anticipated."

The projection faded, leaving Friedrich alone once more. His gaze remained fixed on where Luna’s image had been, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavily on him.

The Cube had brought them all to this precipice, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were standing on the edge of something vast—and perhaps catastrophic. Whatever was coming, he knew they would only survive it together. And he could only hope they were strong enough to face it.