The academy's halls had taken on an air of unease, a tension thick enough to suffocate. Whispers filled every corner, students muttering about the strange illnesses spreading through the commoners. It wasn’t just exhaustion or the strain of training—this was something more sinister.

I first noticed it during a sparring session. One of the commoners, a boy named Kerris, suddenly stumbled mid-duel. His sword clattered to the ground, his eyes wide with fear as if seeing something that wasn’t there. “Stay away!” he screamed, backing into the wall. No one was near him.

Healers rushed to Kerris, but their reassurances that it was just exhaustion rang hollow. I’d seen this before, in another life—hallucinations, paranoia, and the strange lethargy that gripped its victims. These weren’t symptoms of fatigue.

Later that evening, Lorian found me in the commoners’ quarters. “It’s not just Kerris,” he said, his voice low. “Three more collapsed during drills. One girl swore she saw shadows moving in broad daylight.”

I frowned. “Shadows don’t cause hallucinations. Something’s being done to them.”

Lorian’s expression darkened. “Nergath Moss,” he whispered.

The name hit me like a strike to the chest. Nergath Moss—a rare, alchemical herb used in poisons to disorient and weaken its victims. I’d encountered it in my past life, often in the hands of spies or assassins. It was difficult to obtain and even harder to detect unless you knew what to look for.

“How sure are you?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Not completely,” Lorian admitted. “But it fits. The symptoms, the suddenness—it all points to it.”

We both sat in silence, the weight of the revelation pressing down on us. If Nergath Moss was being used, it wasn’t random. Someone was targeting the commoners. Someone with resources, access, and a motive.

“This isn’t just petty bullying,” I muttered. “This is an attack.”

Lorian nodded. “But who would risk this? It’s not subtle. If they’re caught—”

“They won’t be,” I interrupted. “Not unless we expose them. And I think we both know who’s behind this.”

I didn’t say Veylor’s name, but it hung in the air between us. He had the connections, the ruthlessness, and the desire to see us broken. But knowing and proving were two very different things.

“I’ll start digging,” Lorian said, determination flickering in his eyes. “There has to be a trail somewhere. A purchase, a shipment—something.”

“Be careful,” I warned. “If they’re willing to poison us, they won’t hesitate to silence anyone who gets too close.”

He smirked. “Careful’s my middle name.”

But as Lorian slipped into the shadows, a knot of dread tightened in my chest. This wasn’t a game anymore. It never had been. We were being hunted in the dark, and if we didn’t find the source of the poison soon, it wouldn’t be long before someone didn’t wake up.

**

A Web of Deception

The next few days passed in a blur of suspicion and unease. Word of the strange illnesses had spread like wildfire, leaving both the commoners and the faculty on edge. Yet, no one dared to acknowledge the pattern aloud, as if naming the danger would give it power.

I spent most of my time observing, quietly piecing together the threads of a conspiracy I couldn’t yet see. Every cough, every stumble, every vacant stare from the afflicted commoners gnawed at my resolve. Someone was orchestrating this, and their hand was carefully hidden.

Lorian and I worked in tandem, though we didn’t always meet in person. He had a knack for slipping into places he shouldn’t be, his small frame and natural agility making him practically invisible in the labyrinth of the academy. Meanwhile, I kept my ear to the ground, listening to the whispers that moved through the halls like smoke.

It was during one of these quiet moments, tucked away in the corner of the library, that I overheard something useful. A pair of nobles, third-years from the sound of their voices, were discussing a recent shipment of alchemical supplies.

“…strange order if you ask me. Why would anyone need Nergath in a place like this?”

“Keep your voice down,” the other hissed. “Do you want to get us both implicated? It’s none of our business.”

“But if it gets traced back to our house—”

“It won’t. Just keep quiet and let them handle it.”

My heart pounded in my chest. They were careful not to name names, but the mention of Nergath Moss was enough. Someone had smuggled it into the academy, and these two knew more than they were letting on.

The urge to confront them burned within me, but I knew it would be reckless. Instead, I slipped away unnoticed, filing the conversation away for later. I needed more than rumors and half-heard conversations; I needed proof.

That evening, Lorian returned with a smirk that told me he’d found something significant. He laid out a folded piece of parchment on the table between us, the faint scent of parchment and ink mixing with the tension in the air.

“What’s this?” I asked, my eyes scanning the document.

“An inventory ledger,” he said. “One of the junior alchemy instructors is particularly careless with his files.”

The ledger detailed a list of supplies ordered by the academy for the year. Most of it was standard fare—herbs for healing salves, ingredients for potion practice. But one entry stood out: Nergath Moss – Private Request.

“Private request,” I muttered. “It’s too vague. Can you trace who requested it?”

Lorian shook his head. “Not directly. The name isn’t listed, but I did find something else—an unusual delivery route. Whoever ordered this didn’t want it coming through the usual supply channels. It was smuggled in.”

I leaned back, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. Smuggling Nergath Moss required money, connections, and an understanding of the academy’s inner workings. The list of suspects wasn’t long, and Veylor sat squarely at the top.

But it wasn’t enough to accuse him outright. We needed something more—evidence that couldn’t be dismissed or twisted against us. And we had to find it before more commoners fell victim to this calculated cruelty.

“Good work,” I said, patting Lorian on the shoulder. “But this is just the beginning. Keep digging. If they’re bold enough to smuggle poison, they’ve likely made other mistakes.”

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ll keep an eye on the afflicted and ensure they’re cared for,” I said. “If they think we’re too weak to fight back, they’ll slip up.”

Lorian grinned. “I like the way you think.”

As he disappeared into the night once more, I stared at the ledger in my hands. The web of deception was growing clearer, but we were still entangled in it. This was no longer just about survival; it was a battle for justice, for every commoner who’d been trampled underfoot by those who saw themselves as untouchable.

And I would not rest until the web was unraveled.

**

Veylor’s Shadow

The air in the academy felt heavier now, an invisible pressure that seemed to follow me wherever I went. Whispers of illness among the commoners had begun to taper off, but the damage was done. The hallways no longer echoed with the camaraderie and hope that had once defined the commoners’ quarters. Instead, they were filled with wary glances and hushed voices.

And then there was Veylor.

I had yet to confront him directly, but his presence lingered in every corner of the academy like a shadow that refused to fade. I could see it in the nobles’ renewed confidence, the way they carried themselves with smug superiority. The brawl in the courtyard may have ended in a stalemate, but Veylor’s campaign to crush us had never stopped.

His moves were subtle, designed to keep his hands clean while chaos brewed around him. Every time I caught sight of him in the hallways, surrounded by his entourage, his piercing gaze seemed to lock onto me for just a moment too long. It wasn’t hatred I saw in his eyes, but something colder—calculated disdain, as if he were silently plotting my downfall.

I wasn’t wrong.

It started small. Supplies in the commoners’ dormitories went missing—essential items like firewood, ink, and parchment. Requests for replacements were mysteriously delayed, forcing my peers to scrape by with what little they had. Then there were the “accidents.” Doors jammed shut, boots mysteriously slashed, water pails tipped over at the worst possible moments.

At first, I dismissed them as the usual pettiness of nobles, but as the incidents became more frequent, I realized they were coordinated. Veylor was testing us, chipping away at our resolve to see how far we could be pushed before breaking.

But nothing compared to what we discovered next.

One evening, Lorian appeared at my side, his expression unusually grim.

“I found something,” he said, his voice low.

We slipped into an empty classroom, away from prying eyes. Lorian produced a small, dried sample of something greenish-gray, sealed in a glass vial.

“Nergath Moss,” he explained, holding it up to the light.

“Where did you get this?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Behind the kitchen,” Lorian replied. “I found traces of it near the storeroom where the commoners’ food supplies are kept. I’ve been watching, and I’m certain some nobles are tampering with the food.”

The implications were chilling. The sudden wave of illness among the commoners wasn’t just bad luck or contamination—it was deliberate.

“Who’s behind it?” I asked.

Lorian hesitated. “No names yet, but I overheard two nobles talking about ‘following orders.’ Whoever’s behind this, they’re well-connected.”

It didn’t take much imagination to fill in the blanks. Veylor’s shadow stretched further than I’d realized.

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I clenched my fists, anger simmering beneath the surface. Tampering with food wasn’t just a petty act of vengeance—it was cruel, calculated sabotage meant to weaken and demoralize us.

“We need proof,” I said. “Solid evidence that ties this back to him. Otherwise, we’re just making accusations.”

Lorian nodded. “I’ll keep digging. If they’re careless, they’ll slip up.”

But as he disappeared into the shadows once more, I couldn’t shake the weight of this revelation. Veylor wasn’t just targeting me anymore; he was waging war against every commoner in the academy. And he wanted us to know it.

The next day, I received confirmation of Lorian’s suspicions. A group of commoners who had fallen ill weeks ago described symptoms eerily consistent with Nergath Moss exposure—nausea, dizziness, and overwhelming fatigue.

It wasn’t just sabotage; it was a message. Veylor was showing us that he could reach us anytime, anywhere.

I tucked the vial of Nergath Moss into my pocket, my resolve hardening. Veylor wanted to show us his power? Fine. But he’d soon learn that fear alone wasn’t enough to break us. Not this time.

**

A Dangerous Plan

The vial of Nergath Moss weighed heavily in my pocket, as if it carried all the weight of the commoners’ struggles within its fragile glass walls. The discovery of the sabotage had rattled me to my core. This wasn’t just about power or privilege anymore; it was about survival.

Lorian and I met in the farthest corner of the academy grounds that evening, where the trees formed a natural barrier against prying eyes. A thin crescent moon hung in the sky, its dim light barely illuminating the tension etched into our faces.

“We can’t let this slide,” Lorian said, his voice sharp with frustration. “If we don’t act, more of us are going to fall sick. Or worse.”

He was right, of course. The commoners couldn’t afford to lose anyone else to Veylor’s schemes. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were walking into a trap. Veylor wasn’t careless—this was a game to him, and every piece on the board was under his control.

“We’ll act,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “But we need to be smart about it. If we rush in without a plan, we’ll play right into his hands.”

Lorian crossed his arms, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows. “So, what’s the plan, then?”

I exhaled slowly, organizing my thoughts. “We need undeniable proof, something we can present to the faculty or even higher authorities. That means catching whoever’s doing the dirty work—red-handed.”

Lorian frowned. “That’s easier said than done. Whoever’s planting the moss isn’t going to be obvious about it.”

“I know,” I said. “But there’s a pattern to their movements. They’ve been targeting commoners’ supplies, specifically food. If we monitor the storeroom and kitchen, we might catch them in the act.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then we’ll have to create an opportunity,” I said, my mind already working through the details. “We can’t just wait and hope they slip up. We need to make them think they’re safe enough to act.”

Lorian’s expression shifted, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “What kind of opportunity are we talking about?”

I hesitated, knowing the next part of the plan was risky. “We’ll spread a rumor,” I said finally. “Let it slip that the commoners have received new food supplies from outside the academy—something valuable enough to draw their attention.”

“That’s risky,” Lorian said, his tone cautious. “If they catch on that it’s a trap, they’ll just lay low.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But desperation makes people reckless. If Veylor’s lackeys think they can disrupt us further, they might not be able to resist.”

Lorian was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. “It’s dangerous, but it might work. What about the faculty? Should we involve them now?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. If we go to them without solid proof, they’ll just see it as another commoner-noble dispute. We can’t afford to lose their trust by making unfounded accusations.”

“So, we’re doing this ourselves,” Lorian said, his voice low but resolute.

I met his gaze, my own resolve reflected in his sharp eyes. “We’ve been fighting this battle alone since the beginning. This is no different.”

The next day, the plan was set into motion. Lorian and I carefully planted the rumor among the commoners, making sure it spread just far enough to reach noble ears. Meanwhile, I enlisted a few trusted commoners to help monitor the storeroom and kitchen. We worked in shifts, taking turns keeping watch while maintaining the illusion of normalcy.

The waiting was the hardest part. Every noise, every shadow felt like a potential lead—or a trap. But as the hours turned into days, the strain began to pay off.

One night, well past curfew, we finally saw movement near the storeroom. A group of three nobles, their faces partially obscured by hoods, approached the door with furtive glances. My heart raced as I signaled to Lorian, who was crouched beside me in the shadows.

This was it.

We didn’t make a move right away, instead watching as the nobles picked the lock and slipped inside. It wasn’t until they emerged minutes later, carrying what looked like a small satchel of supplies, that we acted.

“Caught you,” I said, stepping out from the shadows with Lorian at my side.

The nobles froze, their expressions shifting from shock to anger in an instant.

“What do you think you’re doing?” one of them snapped, trying to sound authoritative despite the situation.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said coolly. “Care to explain why you’re sneaking around the storeroom after hours?”

The confrontation was tense, and for a moment, it felt like they might try to fight their way out. But before they could act, more of my peers emerged from the shadows, surrounding them.

“Hand over the bag,” I said.

Reluctantly, they complied. As I opened it, the now-familiar sight of dried Nergath Moss greeted me. Proof.

“You’re making a mistake,” one of the nobles hissed. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“Oh, I know exactly who I’m dealing with,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. “And now, so will the rest of the academy.”

With the evidence in hand, I knew the tides were beginning to turn. But this was only the first step. Veylor had made his move—and now, it was my turn.

**

A Poisonous Revelation

The halls of the academy, usually so full of life and the clamor of students, now seemed to echo with a suffocating silence. The weight of the evidence in my hand, the dried Nergath Moss, seemed to grow heavier with each step I took. The confrontation with the nobles who had attempted to sabotage the commoners was a victory, but it was only the beginning. Now, I had to confront the reality of what we were up against and what it meant for us all.

Lorian and I had summoned a few trusted commoners to the common room in the student dorm. The soft glow of the lamps cast flickering shadows, making the tension in the room palpable. My hands were steady, but the fire of anticipation burned in my chest as I looked out at their anxious faces. They knew something was coming but didn’t know the full extent of it.

“Before we go any further,” I said, my voice firm, “I need to make one thing clear: this isn’t just about us anymore. This goes deeper than what we’ve faced so far.”

A murmur spread among the gathered students, a mix of worry and curiosity. They looked to me for answers, and I didn’t disappoint them. Holding the satchel up for everyone to see, I continued, “This is Nergath Moss. It’s not just a simple herb—it’s a tool used to weaken the body and make it vulnerable. We’ve seen it in use before, in my past life, during the Black Pox pandemic. This is no ordinary act of sabotage. This is an attempt to cripple us.”

The room fell silent. Eyes widened, and a few gasps pierced the air as the weight of my words settled into the minds of my peers. One of the older students, a boy named Roderick who had been part of the study group, stepped forward, his expression conflicted.

“But why now?” he asked. “Why use this now, when we’re so close to the end of the year?”

I took a breath, my thoughts racing. “Because someone wants to make sure that we don’t succeed. Someone who sees us as a threat to the balance of power in this academy.”

The whispers of realization began to spread, and I could almost see the light of understanding flickering to life in their eyes. They were no longer just victims of arbitrary rules and unfair treatment; they were targets, and this was only the first strike.

“It’s Veylor,” Lorian said, his voice low but fierce. “He’s behind this. We’ve been saying it for weeks, and now we have proof.”

A collective shudder passed through the group. Veylor’s name, a symbol of power and privilege, carried with it the weight of authority that no one dared to challenge openly. And yet, now that the proof was in front of them, the realization that he would stoop to this level was chilling.

“Does this mean we’re in danger?” one of the younger students asked, her voice trembling.

I looked at her and nodded solemnly. “Yes, but not just from him. This goes beyond a single noble’s ambition. We’re dealing with a system that will go to great lengths to maintain its power. The real danger is in what comes next.”

The room was silent as everyone processed my words. The revelation stung like a cold wind sweeping through an open field, the realization that we were already on the edge of something much larger than a simple school rivalry.

“Then what do we do?” Roderick asked, his voice steady now, the edge of resolve in it.

“We fight back,” I said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “But not just with courage and determination. We need to be smart, patient, and prepared. We’ve already started that fight, but now we have to see it through. We’ll stand together, and when Veylor’s web of deceit unravels, we will be ready.”

The nods that followed were hesitant at first, but as they saw the truth in my expression, the resolve in my voice, they grew stronger. We were no longer just students competing for grades or facing minor obstacles. We were now allies in a battle for our freedom and dignity.

As I stood there, the weight of what lay ahead settled into my bones. This was just the beginning of the war we were about to wage, and I knew that Veylor would be watching, waiting, and plotting his next move. But so would we. And this time, we were ready to face him head-on.

**

The Confrontation

The corridors of the academy had always carried a certain weight, the kind that made my shoulders tense and my steps measured. But today, as I walked down the marble halls leading to the grand meeting room, the weight was suffocating, pressing on my chest with every beat of my heart. I knew this encounter would change everything.

Lorian, at my side, glanced at me, his eyes sharp with determination. There were no words needed; we both understood the stakes. The hallway was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that seemed too heavy, too intentional. It was as if even the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for what was about to unfold.

We reached the large, oak double doors at the end of the hallway. Two guards stood on either side, their expressions stony and unreadable. They nodded once and stepped aside, and I pushed the doors open.

The room inside was vast and imposing. High ceilings adorned with ornate chandeliers, tall windows that let in the gray light of late afternoon, and a long table that stretched the length of the room. Around it sat the most influential figures at Falmuth Military Academy: senior nobles with their finely tailored uniforms, their expressions a mixture of boredom and disinterest, and among them, Veylor, whose eyes met mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

It was not just an audience of nobles, though; Lt. Garven was there too, his dark eyes shadowed by a veil of weariness. This was his doing as much as it was ours, but he stood on the edge of the divide, ready to see which side would claim victory.

“Ah, Illiad, the young prodigy,” Veylor said, his voice dripping with mockery. The room stirred slightly, as if the nobles were anticipating a spectacle. “I see you’ve brought your loyal allies. How quaint.”

I stepped forward, my heart thundering but my voice steady. “We’re here for answers, Veylor. The Nergath Moss. You know what it is and how it was used. Explain yourself.”

A cold smile twisted his lips. “Answers? From me? That’s rich. You come to demand explanations like some commoner who deserves them. You have no idea the lengths we go to maintain order and control. You and your friends are a threat, and I’m simply ensuring the balance remains unchallenged.”

The room grew tense as his words hung in the air. I glanced at the nobles; some shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between us. I could tell that not all of them were comfortable with the lengths Veylor was willing to go. But there were no allies among them yet—not for us.

“Order?” I scoffed. “You mean the order that suppresses those who are different, who dares to break the very foundation of this academy by attacking its students? The order that hides behind false masks of nobility and power, while those beneath you are left to fight for scraps?”

A murmur ran through the gathered nobles. Veylor’s eyes narrowed, the steel in them glinting with the promise of retaliation. He stood up, leaning forward, his voice low but cutting.

“You speak of things you don’t understand, Illiad. This is not a game you’re playing, and you’re too naive to know what’s at stake. But make no mistake—you will learn.”

My breath caught at the veiled threat, and I felt the muscles in my jaw tighten. It was as if I were back in the past, facing a storm I couldn’t quite weather. But this time, I had allies who stood beside me, and I would not be alone in the fight.

“Enough,” Lt. Garven’s voice echoed through the room, firm and unwavering. The attention shifted to him, and even Veylor's jaw clenched at the interruption. “You may hold power over the students, Veylor, but not over their courage. The academy must remain a place where merit and perseverance are valued. If you continue down this path, it will not end well for you.”

Veylor’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes seething with fury as he took in Garven’s defiance. “We shall see,” he said, and his voice was like ice, each word a promise of something more.

With that, he turned on his heel, his cloak swirling behind him as he departed. The nobles followed his lead, their expressions a mixture of intrigue and wariness. The room gradually emptied, leaving only Lt. Garven, Lorian, and myself. The silence was heavy, but it was not without meaning.

Lt. Garven mumbled something to me afterwards, ‘Right now he has too much influence. I’m sorry I can only give a light punishment this time. We need to loosen his family’s grip on the academy in order to truly make him fall’.

Garven looked at me, his eyes sharper now, filled with a new kind of resolve. “You’ve made your stand, Illiad. Just remember, the path you’ve chosen is fraught with peril. Be ready.”

And with that, he left too, leaving Lorian and me alone in the stillness. The weight of what we’d just faced settled over me, but it was not fear—it was determination. This confrontation was not the end; it was the beginning of a new battle, one where we would face not just Veylor but the system itself. And we would do it together.