Waelid’s gaze shifted to my clenched hand, his thin smile stretching wider.
“Oh? And what’s that you’re holding? A letter from your family? We’re Voidbloods. We never get letters.”
My throat tightened, but I forced myself to reply. “Yeah, family. Just a letter from my brother,” I said, steadying my voice. “Nothing important. Not all Magebloods are awful, you know.”
“That’s a lie!” He slammed his hands on the table. I looked back at him, unphased by his outburst. He took a deep breath and pushed his hair back before clearing his throat. “Your brother, you say?” He stepped closer. “I’d hate to think you were hiding something, Erik. Secrets have a way of turning dangerous around here.”
I laughed and raised my eyebrow. “You’d know all about dangerous secrets, wouldn’t you? After the trial...”
“You know, Erik. I’m glad you saw what you did. Now I have a friend to be myself around. But you should be careful. You wouldn’t want to imply anything that would damage House Anu’s reputation.”
Before I could respond, his hand moved, and for a moment, my chest seized. I thought he might grab the letter. Instead, his fingers brushed along the corner of the table, trailing across the surface as he circled towards me.
My mind raced. I couldn’t let him see the contents.
Fern’s voice cut through the growing tension, steady and urgent.
—‘Hit him, now!’ He shouted
—That’s just what he wants, I whispered to Fern.
I inched toward the candle flickering on the desk, keeping my expression neutral. “You’re awfully interested in me, Waelid. Maybe you’re the one with something to hide.”
He stopped mid-step, his eyes narrowing. He clenched his fists and leaned over the long desk. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? That sharp tongue of yours will get you in trouble.”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I moved the letter closer to the flame, letting the fire catch the edge. The dry parchment curled almost instantly, blackening as the fire consumed it. The faint smell of burning paper filled the room.
Waelid’s gaze flicked to the flame, his smile twitching. For a moment, something dark crossed his face—annoyance, maybe even anger—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same infuriating smirk. “A bit theatrical, don’t you think?”
“Just being thorough,” I said, letting the ashes fall into the ceramic dish beneath the candle. “No need to fill the trash with unnecessary paper.”
“Indeed,” Waelid replied, his voice light but his eyes cold. He straightened, smoothing his shirt with a practiced motion. “Careful, Erik. There are eyes everywhere, and not all of them blink kindly.”
With that cryptic remark, he turned and strode away. His footsteps muffled against the worn library carpet. I didn’t move until he disappeared around the corner.
Fern broke the silence.
—‘You should have knocked him out.’
—Fern, just because you get a little power boost doesn’t mean you get to go around beating the crap out of everyone you disagree with.
—‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that throwing kids to their deaths was something we disagreed on.’
—Fern, obviously, I feel the same way as you. But you have to know we aren’t invincible, and we need to play the rules of the game to make our way through.
—‘What game are you talking about?’
—The game Fern, the game of life, and its politics. We have to play so we can get the upper hand, the powers, and the goals we seek. One wrong move, and we could end up as a corpse on a dissecting table. I told him.
I felt Fern take in my words and could picture him nodding.
—‘So, do you think he could be the spy?’ Fern asked, referring to Waelid.
—No, your brother said it wasn’t a student. My money is on Professor Pestil right now. He seems to have a problem with me because of that fact alone. But maybe he just gives off ‘villain’ vibes, and he’s not bad at all.
—‘Could be…I just don’t want more people like Waelid to get away with something. There’s no justice here,’ Fern said.
—We don’t know for sure that Waelid will get away with his deeds. And remember, there was no justice for you from the moment you were born. At least now we can change that.
I stared at the ashes in the dish. The letter was gone, but its words burned sharp in my mind.
Fern shouldn’t still be here, yet he was. A Twin-Soul unlike any recorded, and no answers why. Somewhere in the academy, a spy worked for the Royal Mages—but for what? Materials from the pillar? Secrets about the upper floors? Or something else entirely?
And then there was my brother. The reason I pushed so hard. My whole reason for being here. He is the thread pulling me forward. A Twin-Soul like me. Except I didn’t know which part of him I’d be facing when we met—or if I could trust him at all.
And Waelid. Always circling. Always watching. Always dangerous. What was his angle?
Questions piled up faster than I could untangle them, but the library suddenly felt too heavy, and the walls felt too close. Grabbing my things, I slipped out, my heart beating as I returned to the dorms.
----------------------------------------
The hallways outside the library stretched long and empty; the electric lamps, powered by some gem mined from the Pillar’s Second Floor, flickered and cast jagged shadows on the stone walls. My footsteps echoed faintly, the sound amplifying the surrounding stillness. Most of the students had gone back to their dorms or were in the library I just left. We don’t have class tomorrow or the next as a sort of recovery for the Trial. Thankfully, that gave me the time to consider my next moves. The cursed sword weighed on my mind, but the other things Lotrick brought up were their burdens.
Fern broke the silence.
—‘So…to play this ‘game,’ we agree, we can’t trust Waelid, right?’
—Yep, he is on the ‘watch out for’ list, I replied, shifting the strap of my bag over my shoulder. Every nerve in my body felt wound tight, ready to snap. Waelid’s words echoed in my mind: There are eyes everywhere...
Who was he warning me of? The professors? The other students? Or the spy Lotrick had mentioned? Was he aware of these? Could he be playing some master 4D chess move with all of this? My time reading too much manga and books had me questioning everything. I wasn’t expecting this so soon.
The sword on my hip felt heavier with each step. My hand drifted to the hilt, its surface cool and uneven under my fingers. When I first wielded it, the blade had felt like a gift—something to change the tide. Now, with Dog’s cryptic warning about a curse, it felt more like a weight. How long did I have?
—Too many questions…too many questions. I fidgeted against the hilt.
I stopped, ducking into a dark alcove where the lamplight didn’t reach. Drawing the blade, I kept it low, angled away from the faint light spilling down the hall.
The steel caught the dim glow, shimmering. The surface rippled as though it were alive, bending light in a way that set my teeth on edge.
Fern’s voice broke through.
—‘What’s so cursed about it? It’s just... a sword with runes from another place, right?’
—You don’t know what these runes mean. Also, to be given such a strong blade so early in our journey from a crazy magical floor-hopping man is suspicious enough. But I was desperate, and in the games I played, you wouldn’t pass up this chance, right? I said, half to Fern and half to convince myself.
Tilting the blade, I saw something shifting in its reflection. Shadows swirled behind the steel—either a figure or a building or something, but a darker shadow stood behind the lighter ones in the metal.
A faint buzzing crept up my arm from the hilt, tingling my fingertips.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
—‘It feels... Wrong, now that we are looking at it,’ Fern said, quieter now.
—Yeah. Wrong is a word for it.
I slid the blade back into its scabbard with deliberate care. Whatever this sword was, it wasn’t something I could untangle tonight. I had to add this as a priority to handle within the next few days. Too much was happening too fast. But life is sometimes like that.
I took a deep breath.
As I stepped back into the hallway, my thoughts circled to Lotrick’s letter again. I remembered the words as if still scrawled on the page: Trust no one.
Trust no one. The phrase turned over and over in my mind, a stone I couldn’t stop grinding. Surely we could trust our friends, right? Silas? Ruriel? Zenobia? All of them. But would telling them the full truth put them in danger?
Fern’s voice cut through the spiral.
—‘You’re overthinking it again.’
—How can I not?
I walked out of the Academy and crossed the long lawn toward my dorm. The familiar sight of House Anu’s dorms came into view, the warm light spilling through the windows softening the edges of my thoughts. The smell of burning firewood touched my nostrils. Laughter drifted faintly through the cracks, the sound pulling me out of my head.
I exhaled slowly, forcing the tension in my chest to ease. Whatever waited for me tomorrow, I couldn’t face it alone. I needed to be with my friends; I needed to rest and feel some sense of normalcy, or I would lose myself.
I stepped into the common area, greeted by the golden glow of a massive bonfire crackling on the beach outside through the back dorm doors. Silas’s voice carried over the sound of laughter, bright and warm.
“Erik! Finally!” he called, waving me over through the house. He was sitting on a long log facing the bonfire.
The others cheered as I walked out. I set my bag down and joined them. For the first time since the library, I felt my shoulders loosen, the weight on my chest lifting just enough to breathe.
The questions, the sword, the spy—they could all wait.
Tonight was about celebration. About the people who had fought by my side and lived to tell the tale.
----------------------------------------
The bonfire roared, its golden light throwing flickering shadows across the circle of House Anu recruits. The salty breeze carried the tang of brine and the faint scent of charred wood, mingling with the sound of laughter and Tevin’s steady drumbeat. The big guy had found some large hand drum and was beating a soft tune for others to dance or bop their head, too.
I looked across at my classmates, thankful that they all lived.
Lucius sat near the twins, his legs crossed neatly, sipping tea with an ease that softened his usual sharp demeanor. Rinka and Sora huddled over the blood infusion booklet, pointing at entries and giggling like they didn’t have a care in the world. Sora’s eyepatch caught the firelight, reminding me of what she’d sacrificed during the trial.
Silas and Ruriel stood near the edge of the firelight, juggling small balls for Amani’s attention. Her clapping and laughter rang above the crackle of the flames. Her curly black and red hair bounced in time with the drumbeat. At the circle’s edge, Mel crouched beside Zenobia. The two were getting along surprisingly and were recounting their encounters.
“Erik!” Silas’s voice boomed above the noise, cutting through the din. He had won his juggling match against Ruriel and waved me over, his grin wide and infectious.
“You cheated with that arm, Gearhead,” Ruriel said. He sat down next to Amani, looking visibly nervous. A surprising attitude change from my normally cool-headed ninja-like friend.
“Glad you could join us,” Mel said, lounging against a log, her arms crossed. Her red hair seemed on fire, reflecting the flames. “Now that the hero’s here, maybe things will get interesting.”
“Hero’s a stretch,” I said, lowering myself onto the sand near Tevin, who softened his drumming.
“Not when you’re carrying that,” Mel said, nodding at the sword at my side. “Mind if I look?”
I hesitated but unfastened the blade and handed it to her. “Sure, but be careful. It’s... different.”
Mel took it without hesitation, only to drop it immediately, her eyes wide. “What the hell?” She flexed her fingers as if shaking off a sting.
Zenobia leaned forward. “What happened?”
“It—” Mel stared at the blade, now lying in the sand. “It was like a ringing in my ears, and then something shocked my arm. Like it didn’t want me holding it.”
The group fell silent. All eyes turned to me.
“Dog said it’s cursed,” I admitted, picking up the sword carefully and re-sheathing it.
“Uh…Dog?”
I thought for a moment if I should be honest. Then, I decided there was no harm. I could leave out bits about the Twin-Soul stuff.
So I did just that. I told them what happened, how when I was flung high in the air from the Guardian, I was able to slow myself slightly before slamming into the wall of the pillar. I told them how I could see outside the pillar as if looking out from inside a skyscraper or a giant wall of glass high above the ground. I told them of Dog and the music he played and the stairs up to the next floor. I told them how he just handed over a sword and how later he sent me a letter, somehow, telling me it was cursed.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Tevin stopped playing and stood up, eyes fixated on me. “Bugs…that heal your body?! When can we go? I want to see them!”
“You are a freak, man,” Ruriel said, rolling his eyes. Several people laughed as Zenobia gently patted Tevin to sit back down.
“So, what will you do with it? The sword.” Mel said.
“I haven’t decided yet. “It’s not hurting me—at least not yet.”
“Maybe don’t use it until you know for sure,” Zenobia said. “No point tempting fate. You already got lucky with how easily it cut the Guardian.”
“Whatever you do, keep it for the upcoming battle,” Lucius said before taking another sip of tea.
“Upcoming battle?” Rinka asked, looking at Lucius.
“Well, we will help when the Cinders return to take the fourth floor and go to the fifth.”
“That’s true. It would help take down the other Guardians. Cursed or not, I am not sure if other Cinders have a blade like this.” I touched the hilt again, forcing a grin to shift the conversation. “But enough about the sword. Tonight’s about celebrating, right? We earned it. Took down a damn Guardian and lived to tell the tale. We might be the strongest group of recruits to enter the Academy.”
“Barely,” Ruriel said dryly, though a small smile tugged at his lips.
“What’s your point, Erik?” Mel said.
“My point,” I said, “is that every elite group has a name. A legacy. Something people will remember when they talk about what we’ve done.” I gestured around the circle. “So why don’t we come up with one for ourselves?”
Sora’s eye gleamed. “A name? I like it.”
“Heh, I like it too. It has to be something fierce,” Mel said, already warming to the idea. “But not cliché.”
“Something clever,” Lucius added, raising his cup. “And regal.”
“What about something meaningful? Like a reference to our journey,” Zenobia said.
The group erupted into a lively debate.
Mel crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips. “What about ‘Bloodhowl’? Sounds scary, right? Like something that’d make people think twice about messing with us.”
Lucius raised a skeptical brow. “If we’re going for respectable, that’s not the direction.”
“Respectable?” Mel shot back. “I’m not writing poetry, noble boy. I want people scared.”
Rinka leaned into the conversation, her tone gentler. “What about ‘Ashen Howl’? It’s still fierce but... less threatening. And we are in the Academy of Ash, you know?”
“Better,” Sora said. Rinka’s twin sister smiled and looked at Mel. “But it still needs teeth, right?”
Mel smiled and nodded.
Ruriel broke in, leaned forward, and twirled a stick between his fingers. “I like where you went with Ashen Rinka. But what about something referencing rebirth? Like ‘Ashen Reborn.’ We’ve all left things behind to be here. It fits.”
“Poetic,” Mel said, snorting. “What are we, a band of traveling bards?” She shifted her weight on her feet. “I’m saying something strong. Like ‘Phoenix Guard.’ We’re not just survivors—we’re fighters. We rise stronger every time.”
“That’s not bad,” Tevin said, tapping his drum idly. “But maybe we should go unique. Like... I dunno... ‘The Bug Brigade.’”
The group groaned in unison.
Zenobia nudged him hard. “Tevin, if you suggest one more bug name, I’m throwing you into the sea.”
“Bugs are resilient!” Tevin said, raising his hands defensively. “They keep crawling back, no matter what!”
“I’ll give you points for originality,” Zenobia said dryly. “But no. Absolutely not.”
“Fine,” Tevin muttered, grinning.
Zenobia glanced at the fire. “What about something tied to our house? Like ‘Anu’s Aegis.’ Protective. Honorable.”
“Nice,” Rinka said, nodding.
“Nice,” Sora repeated flatly. “Sure, if you want people to think we’re someone’s old shield. No thanks. And how attached are we really to this house? It’s each other that makes this group. We need to make this meaningful! Where’s the artistry?”
“That’s right, Sora, I like where your head’s at,” I said, trying to hold back my comments on our Chapter Master and my shattered illusion of this academy’s houses and politics. “What about you three?” I looked over at the Veclans. Vahim shook his head.
“Don’t ask me, green one. Habr is the writer among us.”
Finally, Habr cleared his throat, his calm voice cutting through the chatter.
“In our tongue,” he said, “we could call ourselves Henu-Shaut.” His accent was thick, and his tongue clicked as he said the last word.
I leaned forward. “What does that mean?”
“Hmm, roughly It means ‘veilbreakers,’” Habr said, his gaze steady. “The ones who tear away the shroud of lies and secrets. I believe it could resonate with us because we have seen the truth in society, and with what happened on the First Floor, what Erik showed us…we still fight to break down lies.”
His words hung in the air, their weight settling over the group as they were reminded of what I accused Waelid of.
“Veilbreakers,” Tevin said, breaking the silence. “That’s... kind of perfect.”
“It fits, I guess, in its way,” Rinka said softly. “It’s all how you phrase it.”
Mel leaned back, testing the name on her tongue. “Yeah, that’s strong. It sticks. I’m okay with it!”
Even Sora didn’t argue. “Veilbreakers. I can work with that.”
Lucius raised his cup, his usual reserve slipping for a moment. “To the Veilbreakers, then.”
We cheered and felt our new self-imposed title descend on our shoulders. We all aimed to make something out of our lives here, and we would break whatever veil the world tried to cover us with.
Our yells and cheers rose above the crackle of the fire, carried by the sea breeze. For the first time, we weren’t just recruits anymore. We were something more.
----------------------------------------
The dormitory was quiet as I slipped through the heavy wooden door several hours later. The faint crash of waves against the shore crept in through the cracks, mixing with the soft creaks of the old building settling for the night.
The warmth of the bonfire still clung to my skin, but the camaraderie I’d felt earlier had faded under the weight of unanswered questions. Lotrick’s letter turned over and over in my mind, its warnings tightening like a noose.
The spy is not a student. Trust no one.
The words echoed like Tevin’s lingering drumbeat as I reached my room and leaned against the closed door, exhaling slowly. If the spy wasn’t a student, couldn’t I trust my friends? My gaze fell to the cursed sword resting on my hip. I picked it up and rested it against my desk, its hilt gleaming faintly in the double moonlight spilling through the window.
Fern, like he always did, broke me away from my tumbling thoughts.
—‘You should sleep. Your brain’s chewing on too much.’
—You’re not wrong. But how am I supposed to sleep when I don’t even know where to start?
—‘Start with... not getting yourself killed.’
The corner of my mouth twitched in a dry chuckle. I changed into simple black pajamas and moved to the edge of the bed, letting my weight sink into the mattress. For a moment, I let myself imagine what life would be like without any of this—no pillars, no curses, no spies or Twin-Souls. Just... normal. Safe. Then I thought of my home, Earth. My time before all of this. How I had wished every day for something to change. Would I ever accept life as is and not what I want?
The sound of paper sliding across stone snapped me out of the thought like a jolt of ice water.
I froze.
My gaze shot to the base of the door, where a folded note lay.
Moving slowly, I got up and reached for it, my fingers brushing the rough parchment. It was simple and unmarked. I unfolded it to see aggressive handwriting inside:
Drop out, Twin-Soul, or you will die.
The words sent a spike of icy dread down my spine. Twin-Soul. The warning wasn’t just precise—it was personal.
I grabbed my sword and bolted to the door, yanking it open.
The hallway stretched ahead, dimly lit by the soft glow of lanterns mounted along the walls. It was empty.
Then, at the far end, a shadow slipped around the corner.
“Hey!” I shouted, already moving.
Barefoot, still in my pajamas, I tore down the corridor. My heart hammered as I rounded the corner, glimpsing the figure—a hooded silhouette moving with unnaturally fluid speed.
“Stop!” I shouted again. The figure didn’t hesitate, their footsteps impossibly light against the stone floor.
They darted through the dormitory, slipping through the halls like a shadow until they broke into the open air. I followed out the main door and across the courtyard. I was bathed in cold moonlight as I pushed forward.
The figure sprinted toward the edge of the House grounds, their hood billowing behind them.
“Who are you?” I yelled, my voice cutting through the still night. I pumped my legs harder and harder, urging Fern to give me speed. My heartbeat doubled, and my legs rocketed across the grass.
The shadow did not slow down.
Instead, they sprinted towards the side of the pillar away from the Academy entrance. I followed behind them, at least a hundred yards behind. They stopped at the base of the towering pillar. Their silhouette was stark against the colossal structure, their head tilting slightly as if they were listening.
Then they turned.
For a fleeting moment, I saw their eyes beneath the hood—glowing gold, sharp and wolfish, cutting through the shadows like a predator’s gaze. My breath caught in my throat.
And then the transformation began.
The figure’s body twisted unnaturally, hunched forward as their limbs elongated. The hood and cloak fell away, revealing fur white and red like a koi fish. Massive paws struck the ground, claws scraping against stone. A group of nine tails lashed behind them, twitching with restrained power. Their body grew several feet until they stood on their hind legs, towering some thirty feet tall. I was catching up but had slowed as I saw their new form.
It wasn’t human anymore.
It was a wolf—or fox—or something that only wore the shape of one.
The creature turned its head toward me, locking those feral, intelligent eyes onto mine. My legs stiffened. I froze. I was less than twenty-five yards away. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then it lunged.
Not at me—upward.
Its claws sank into the pillar’s surface, and it began climbing. Fast. Too fast.
I ran up to the pillar where it had just stood and stared in disbelief as the creature scaled the sheer stone, its movements smooth. Higher and higher it climbed, the shadows of the pillar swallowing it whole.
The moonlight glinted off its white fur. The beast was like a beautiful shooting star climbing the massive 13th Pillar.
I stood there, chest heaving, the cold biting at my bare feet. My mind raced as the moment crashed over me in waves.
Fern’s voice came barely above a whisper.
—‘What... what was that?’
—No idea. This school…. this pillar has become more and more mysterious. I suspect that won’t be the last we will see of that…thing.
I swallowed hard, my gaze still fixed on the spot where the creature had disappeared. But one thing was certain.
Someone—or something from above—was watching what happened below.