Even now, Elliot couldn’t shake the habit of double-checking their drinks, his fingers brushing against the rim of his cup as if to reassure himself. The pieces were slowly coming together, but the shadow of uncertainty still loomed.

As Alira launched into a story about her latest training mishap, Towan laughed, the sound warm and genuine. Elliot forced himself to focus on the moment, pushing aside the unease that lingered at the edges of his thoughts. For now, at least, things felt normal. But the question remained, unspoken yet heavy in the air: Who had tried to hurt Towan—and why?

After breakfast, the corridors of the academy buzzed with the usual morning energy as students hurried to their classes. Towan and Alira walked side by side, their footsteps echoing against the polished stone floors. But as they reached a fork in the hallway, Elliot slowed his pace, his expression unreadable.

"Go on without me," he said casually, his tone light but his eyes sharp. "I’ve got something to take care of."

Towan stopped, raising an eyebrow as he studied his brother. "All right… just don’t be late." His voice carried a hint of suspicion, a subtle edge that betrayed his unease. Elliot rarely left his side, and the feeling was mutual—something about this felt off.

"Don’t worry," Elliot replied with a grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Before Towan could press further, he turned a corner and disappeared from view.

Towan watched the empty space where Elliot had been, his brow furrowing. After a moment, he turned to Alira. "Any idea where he’s headed?"

"No clue," Alira said with a shrug, her tone light but her gaze lingering on the spot where Elliot had vanished. "He didn’t tell me anything."

Stolen story; please report.

They continued toward class, the corridor growing quieter as the last stragglers hurried ahead. The morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Towan’s steps slowed slightly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

----------------------------------------

Moments after they were out of sight, the hallway fell into a heavy silence. Elliot leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he waited, his gaze fixed on the floor. The faint sound of footsteps reached his ears, but before he could react, a voice cut through the stillness.

"Found you."

"Ah—!" Elliot flinched, spinning around to find Sylra standing mere inches behind him. "Oh, shit—Sylra!" he exclaimed, his hand instinctively clutching his chest. "You really have to stop doing that. One of these days, you’re gonna give someone a heart attack."

Sylra’s lips curled into an amused smirk, her arms still crossed as she tilted her head slightly. "No promises," she said breezily, brushing past him. "Now, onto the important part—"

"Right," Elliot said, regaining his composure as he fell into step beside her. "Who was it?"

Sylra’s expression darkened, her usual cool demeanor giving way to something sharper. "A cook from the slums," she said, her voice low and deliberate. "I looked into his background—lots of shady connections with the black market. Somehow, he got hired here, and four days after he started, Towan’s breakfast was tampered with."

She paused, glancing down the empty hallway as if expecting someone to appear. The silence between them felt heavy, charged with unspoken tension.

Elliot narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Where is he now?"

Sylra exhaled sharply, frustration flickering in her gaze. "Dead."

Elliot froze, his breath catching in his throat. "What? What do you mean, dead?"

"Poisoned in his room," she said flatly, her tone devoid of emotion. "Two days after the incident. The academy covered it up flawlessly. No one noticed."

Elliot’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles whitening. "Didn’t anyone care?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Doesn’t seem like it," Sylra replied, her gaze cold and distant. "He was deep in debt. I’m almost certain the people he owed are the ones who silenced him."

Elliot’s jaw tightened as he glanced back in the direction Towan had gone, his mind racing. The thought of someone targeting his brother—someone still out there, watching, waiting—sent a chill down his spine.