A week had passed, and the mist clung to Ouroboros Academy's spires like a shroud.
Asher stands in front of Academy.
He thought:
"It's finally been a week here. The note from Morgan that was meant to help me,was missing.
Something lurks around the academy, beyond what anyone has seen.
And that note, "Run, it's coming for you" lives rent free in my head.
I may not show it but I can barely close my eyes to sleep, knowing something out in the shadows, is after me— I don't know why it's after me,but I'm very sure it has something to do with them"
He's gaze turns to his scars.
"Asher, over here!" Theo's voice cut through, urgent. He waved from across the quad, clutching a crumpled note.
Asher crossed the wet grass,his pulse quickening. "What's up?"
Theo's face was pale, eyes darting. "This was in my locker this morning."
He held up the note, its ink stark: Come to the library. I have the note. B.F.
"No clue who B.F. is."
Asher's blood surged, rage flaring. "I know exactly who." His voice was a low growl.
"And he stays in dorm, why didn't I notice."
Theo hurried after him as Asher stormed toward the library. "It's not Rowan, right?"
"Blake Farrow," Asher spat, fists clenched. "B.F. That bastard stole our note."
The library's heavy doors creaked as Asher shoved them open, the air thick with dust.
Blake lounged on a window sill, book in hand, his cold eyes glinting with mockery.
The blank note—the one Nico and Theo lost—dangled between his fingers like a trophy.
"Where's the note, Farrow?" Asher demanded, voice sharp enough to cut.
Blake didn't look up, turning a page with deliberate slowness.
Asher lunged, grabbing for Blake's collar, but Blake was faster, twisting Asher's arm and slamming his hand onto the table with a thud.
The book fell, open to a heading: Revealing Hidden Scripts. Blake smirked, raising the note.
"This what you're after? It's the key to your little puzzle."
Asher yanked free, scars burning under his sleeve, his glare lethal. "Give it back. Now."
Blake leaned closer, voice a low hiss, his breath hot. "Not so fast, Rook. I'll hand it over—one condition."
Asher's fists trembled. "And what's that?"
Blake's grin was venomous, eyes glinting like he'd already won. "You owe me a favor. No questions, no backing out. Swear it, or this note's ashes by tonight."
Asher's stomach twisted.
Blake wasn't just a bully; he was playing a deeper game, one tied to the academy's secrets.
"Why do you even want it?" Asher snapped, stalling.
Blake's smile didn't waver.
"I Overheard your mices in the library trying to find how to reveal secret notes, I knew it was something important from the look of things, so I played my card —Let's just say I like collecting debts.
Swear, or it's gone."
The clocktower's tick pounded, a warning. Asher's voice was ice. "Fine. You win, I owe you a damn favor."
Blake tossed the note, its edges fluttering. "Smart choice. Don't forget—you're mine now."
The greenhouse air was heavy with the scent of damp earth, Lira's only refuge from the dread coiling in her chest.
She watered a row of nightshade, their purple blooms vibrant yet toxic, her hands trembling slightly as the clocktower's tick echoed faintly through the glass walls—a relentless reminder of her vision: HE'S AWAKE, the fiery 16.7 scrawled on the clocktower.
Darel's plan—her as bait—felt like a noose tightening. She pushed the thought away, focusing on the soil, its cool grit grounding her.
"Hey," a shy voice broke through. Victor stood at the entrance, waving awkwardly, his bandaged wrist catching the dim light.
Lira set down her watering can, managing a small smile. "Hey."
"I guess you're busy," Victor stammered, rubbing his neck.
"I'll come back later—or tomorrow, whenever you're free—"
"No, I'm free now," Lira said, her voice warm, craving connection. " I'lld love a conversation right now."
Victor relaxed, stepping closer, his eyes on a cluster of nightshade. "You love these, huh? What's this one?"
Lira's face lit up, a spark of life cutting through her fear.
"Nightshade. Gorgeous, but its berries can stop your heart. Looks safe, but it'll burn you if you're not careful."
Victor nodded, intrigued, his own guardedness softening.
"That's deep. What about those?" He pointed to delicate white blooms tucked in a corner.
"Starflowers," Lira said, brushing a petal.
"They only open at dusk, hiding their secrets until it's safe. Like us, burying things—visions, fears—hoping no one sees."
"Lol, visions" Victor said, voice barely above a whisper, his eyes reflecting her own haunted look.
"Exactly," Lira said, her fingers lingering on a bloodroot, its sap red as blood.
"This one's bloodroot. It heals wounds, but too much is poison. Like trying to fix yourself here, only to break worse."
Victor's smile was faint but genuine. "You weave flowers into life so well. It's… comforting."
Lira blushed, her silver eyes softening. "Thanks. How about your wrist?"
"Better," Victor said, twisting it to show. "Not as stiff as before."
"Let's get casual so—what do you do for fun?" Lira asked, curious. "I garden—what about you?"
Victor shrugged, sheepish. "Nothing cool. I draw."
Her eyes widened, excited. "Really? Can I see?"
"They're not much," he said, pulling a worn sketchbook from his bag.
Lira opened it, gasping at the first sketch: a heart entwined with flowers, bleeding red sap, butterflies fluttering from its wounds—a fragile beauty in pain.
"This is… breathtaking," she said, flipping through more: dark forests with glowing eyes, a broken clock with frozen hands, a boy crouched by a wall, his face shadowed.
"These are incredible, Victor."
He ducked his head, shy. "Thanks. They're just… how I process things."
Lira's voice softened, seeing her own fears in his art. "If you've got time, will you draw me?"
"Absolutely, I can do that right now" Victor said, a spark of warmth in his tired eyes.
He grabbed his pencil, while Lira posed by the nightshade, her smile fragile but real, her silver hair catching the greenhouse's faint glow.
His pencil danced, capturing her quiet strength, the weight of her visions in her gaze.
In the head prefect's private room, papers littered a scarred wooden table, a rough map spread beneath Gaius's hands.
Gaius traced the map's lines, his brow furrowed, chasing Elara's red-booted vanishings.
Darel burst through the door, brass key jangling in his pocket, voice raw with urgency. "We need to talk. Now."
Gaius didn't look up, his tone clipped. "I'm busy, Darel. Later."
"Did you miss the 'urgent' part?" Darel snapped, slamming a fist on the table, papers fluttering. "You've been dodging me all week."
Gaius sighed, setting the map aside, his Ouroboros badge glinting in the dim light.
"Fine. You've got my ear. Make it quick."
"It's Morgan's killer," Darel said, eyes blazing, voice low but fierce.
"He's a ritualist, Gaius. A damn ritualist."
Gaius's frown deepened, skepticism sharp. "You found him? A ritualist? That's a leap."
"He's targeting a first-year," Darel said, leaning in, words spilling fast.
"Showing her visions—burning academy, bleeding stones, Il es despertus, the one I needed translation with, it means HE'S AWAKE, does that make any sense to you."
Gaius leaned forward, tension coiling in his frame. "Sounds like danger. But why now? Why her? It still doesn't make sense"
"He wants her to meet him at the clocktower during the Alignment" Darel pushed.
"The perfect time to kill someone and get away with it, He's hiding from something" Gaius added.
Darel's jaw tightened,memories of Morgan's death scene flashing.
"That's not the worst part. You don't happen to know anyone who sneaks into the clocktower?" Darel said, being sarcastic."Oh wait, Elara."
Gaius's eyes widened, his fruitless chase replaying—Elara's red boots vanishing into a dead-end room. "Her. I followed her yesterday—gone, like she melted into the walls. Impossible."
"Exactly," Darel said, voice hard as steel.
"She's tied to this. We need to catch this thing, Gaius. I want it dead."
Gaius leaned back, a smirk curling, his voice dry but edged. "Your digging too deep, whatever this is, it's bigger than us."
Darel's fists clenched, anger flaring at the jab. "I'm not Morgan. I'm ending this, with or without you."
Gaius's smirk faded, his eyes narrowing, assessing. "You're serious. Alright, what's your plan? Lira's bait?"
Darel nodded, voice low. "She's terrified, but I convinced her. I'll shadow her at the clocktower, July 16th. If Elara's involved, we'll catch her too."
Gaius tapped the map, his voice dropping. "The clocktower's alive, Darel. That tick—it's not just gears. it watches, listens. If this ritualist's using it, they're not human."
Darel's stomach twisted, Lira's vision of the fiery 16.7 flashing in his mind. "Then I'll kill whatever it is."
The clocktower's tick spiked, a sharp thud echoing through the room, its face twitching beyond the window, as if it knew their plan.
In Theo's cramped dorm, the air was thick with tension, the clocktower's tick seeping through the walls, sharp and relentless, like a warning pulse.
Asher, Theo, and Nico huddled over a worn book Blake had found, its pages yellowed, the heading Revealing Hidden Scripts glaring up at them.
The blank note—stolen by Blake, now a debt Asher owed—sat beside it, mocking their efforts.
Nico read aloud, voice steady but edged. "To reveal a secret message: Grind chronothite into powder, dissolve in water, sprinkle/dip/pour on the note."
Theo snorted, leaning back on his bed, arms crossed. "Sounds easy. Like baking a cake."
Nico's eyes narrowed, flipping a page. "How'd Blake even get this book? Shady bastard."
Asher shot him a look, voice sharp as a blade. "Blake's not the point. I owe him a damn favor now—this better work, or I'm screwed."
Asher snapped, his frustration boiling. "We need chronothite. And a grinder."
Nico frowned, skeptical. "Where do we even find that? Chronothite's not lying around."
Asher's eyes lit up, a risky idea sparking. "Our watches. They're made of chronothite."
Theo sat up, eyebrows shooting up. "You want to break your watch? Are you insane?"
"The book doesn't say how much," Asher said, voice firm but tense, tapping his watch's dark surface.
"I could chip off a piece. Small enough to avoid notice."
Nico leaned forward, voice low, urgent.
"That's a bad idea, Asher. These watches track us. Break it, and the academy's alarms might scream. You want to end up culled?"
Asher's jaw tightened, Talus's words about the Culling—erasing time cancer—flashing in his mind.
He pushed it aside. "Point taken. But at the clinic, Nina deactivates watches for treatment. She could help deactivate my watch,then I'll break it and I could think of a lie to give the academy ."
Theo's eyes widened, a grin breaking through.
"Or skip the stunt and just ask Nina for chronothite. She's got medical supplies, right?"
Asher paused, then smirked, clapping Theo's shoulder. "Smart, Theo. That's why you're here.
Thanks Asher—who's Nina?" Theo asked, clueless
Rowan blinked, caught off guard. "The nurse at the clinic?"
Nico groaned, tossing the book onto the bed. "Great. We're pinning our hopes on a nurse we barely know, and Blake's got you on a leash, Asher. What's his favor, anyway?"
Asher's stomach twisted, Blake's smug You're mine now echoing. "He didn't say. Just… no question".
"Let's move already."