A lead

The Academy thrummed with life.

Sprawling courtyards buzzed with chatter, banners of every noble house swayed in the late summer air, and students hurried between classes with fresh books and sharpened quills. For most, it was the beginning of ambition and glory. For Lucien, it was a hollow theater.

It should’ve been both of us, he thought, his gaze fixed on the ground as he crossed the marble path. Me and Arian. We were supposed to walk through these gates together.

He remembered that day too well—the entrance exam. Rowan had stood by him, steady as ever, while Lucien faced the trial alone. Arian had been ill then, bedridden, promising he’d follow once he recovered. “Don’t get too far ahead, Lucien,” he’d said with that crooked smile. “We’ll conquer the academy side by side.”

Lucien had believed him.

But when Arian finally set out… he vanished.

Now Lucien walked these halls alone, the emptiness trailing him like a shadow.

Behind him, whispers bled into the courtyard air.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be another Veynar? A friend of his?”

“Yes, Runerth. He never arrived. They say he disappeared on the way.”

“Some claim it’s the new sickness… that strange one that eats away at mana.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. His nails dug into his palm. If I’d stayed a few more days… if I’d waited until he was better… The thought burned like iron against his ribs. He never would’ve traveled alone.

---

The Central Hall’s tall doors groaned open, spilling him into the lecture chamber where Professor Eryndor’s voice carried like thunder.

“Today we attempt affinity weaving. Fire with wind. Earth with water. Most of you will fail. A few may succeed. Begin.”

Students hurried to their stations, sparks and waves of mana already clashing. Lucien lifted his hands. Fire bloomed in one palm, wind in the other. For a moment, they steadied. Then his focus slipped. The flame guttered.

Arian would’ve laughed at me here. Teased me for losing focus. Then he would’ve shown me up, just to rub it in.

The fire fizzled out.

A drawling voice cut across the room. “Distracted again, Veynar?”

Cassian Draemir. His golden hair glinted in the lamplight, but the smug curl of his lips soured the picture.

“Or perhaps,” Cassian continued, louder now, “your mind is on your missing companion. Arian Runerth, wasn’t it? He didn’t even manage to reach the exam. Pathetic. Maybe House Veynar put too much faith in weak company.”

Snickers rolled through the class.

Lucien’s blood roared. You don’t get to say his name.

“Careful, Draemir,” he said evenly, mana sparking back to his hands. “Mock me all you want, but speak of Arian again and you’ll regret it.”

Cassian smirked. “Regret? Then prove it. Duel me after class.”

Professor Eryndor arched a brow but said nothing.

Lucien gave a sharp nod. “Fine. But don’t cry when you lose.”

---

The dueling arena thrummed with energy, wards glowing faintly around the circle. Students crowded close, eager for a show.

Cassian conjured a spear of fire, twirling it with a flourish. “Let’s see if Veynar flame burns as bright without your sickly friend to hide behind.”

Lucien’s hands flexed. Mana steadied, hot beneath his skin. This arena was supposed to hold us both. He should’ve been here, fighting at my side. If I had waited…

The signal flared.

Cassian struck first, flames snapping like whips. Lucien swept them aside with compressed wind, sparks scorching his sleeve.

“You’re too slow,” Cassian jeered, fire coiling in his hand. “No wonder Runerth disappeared. Maybe he was too ashamed to face this place.”

Lucien’s vision tunneled. Shut your mouth.

His wind sharpened, wrapping flame into a spiraling lance. He thrust. The vortex ripped through Cassian’s defense, scorching the floor at his boots.

Cassian stumbled back, face pale.

“Yield,” Lucien said, voice low, trembling with restrained fury.

For a moment, pride battled with fear in Cassian’s eyes. Then he spat on the floor and stalked away, humiliated.

The crowd whispered in awe.

Lucien exhaled slowly, fire fading from his hand. But inside, the victory was ash. If I’d stayed, Runerth would be here too. Laughing, taunting, standing beside me. Not… gone.

---

The library’s hush wrapped around him later that night. Rows of towering tomes glimmered in candlelight as Lucien pored over records of magical afflictions. Plagues, curses, wasting fevers—none matched the rumors of mana being devoured.

If that sickness struck him… would he even have had the strength to fight back?

“Still searching, Veynar?”

Lucien looked up. Professor Aldwyn stood there, silver-haired, eyes sharp as knives.

Lucien swallowed. “You… knew Arian was supposed to come. Everyone did.”

Aldwyn’s gaze lingered. “He was meant to take the exam after you. Instead, he chased knowledge most would fear.”

Lucien’s chest tightened. “What do you mean? H-he chased after—knowledge? How… how did you—?”

Aldwyn’s gaze was steady, measured. “I don’t know where he went, Lucien. No one does. But I knew what he sought before he left—knowledge most fear. Knowledge that could unravel the very essence of those who seek it."

Lucien swallowed hard. “So… he might have… gotten into troubles ?"

Aldwyn inclined his head slightly, neither confirming nor denying. “Perhaps. Be careful, Lucien. The path he chose devours as surely as the affliction itself.”

" Do you know anything else—" 

Before Lucien could press further, the professor was gone, leaving only shadows.

Lucien stared down at the page before him. Rewrites mana… Is that what took you, Arian? Or is there still a chance you’re out there, waiting for me?

---

Lucien sank back in his chair, the words hollow in his ears. Knowledge most fear… what could be so dangerous that it makes someone vanish? And why Arian ? His chest tightened. If only I had waited those extra days, come together with him… none of this would have happened.

The library was silent, the quiet pressing in, echoing every regret. He pressed his palms to the desk, clenching them until his knuckles ached. I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed. I should have been there.

A soft draft whispered across the room. Lucien looked up. The candlelight flickered. A knock—gentle but deliberate—echoed through the corridor outside the library.

He rose cautiously, heart hammering. The corridor was empty, save for a single envelope lying on the floor, sealed with unfamiliar wax.

Lucien’s hands trembled as he picked it up. Who…? He broke the seal. Inside, neat, slanted script read:

“If you seek Runerth, come to the old alchemy wing at midnight. Alone.”

His pulse thundered. The candle flickered violently, casting long shadows that clawed across the walls. Lucien gripped the envelope tighter. Finally… a lead. Or a trap.

He sank back into the chair, mind racing. I can’t wait. I can’t lose him because I hesitated. I failed him once already by leaving too soon. I won’t let that happen again.

The words burned in his chest, heavier than fear, heavier than doubt. If he’s still alive… I’ll find him. No matter what.

Lucien stood, drawing a deep breath, feeling the weight of the coming night settle on his shoulders. The hallways of the academy suddenly seemed darker, every shadow a possible threat, every whisper a warning. And yet, the pull of hope—and of guilt—drove him forward.

He would go. He had to.

The candle guttered once, then steadied. Lucien placed the note carefully in his pocket, checking the clock. Midnight was hours away. And until then, he would wait, pacing the library like a caged wolf, mind sharp, thoughts tangled between dread and determination.

Arian… wherever you are… I’ll bring you back. So please be safe until then.

The silence returned, heavy, expectant. Outside, the academy slumbered unaware. Inside, Lucien’s resolve burned brighter than any flame he could summon. 

Tonight, the chase began.

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