Plan

The days after Tiberon’s visit stretched differently. The walls were still stone, the meals still cold, the cuffs still heavy around my wrists — but everything had changed.

Because now I knew I wasn’t alone.

The hum of faint mana returning to me, the memory of Tiberon’s golden eyes, the weight of his vow — all of it burned in me like an ember against the suffocating dark. I held on to that ember, nurturing it, refusing to let despair smother it again.

But with hope came sharper fear.

Because if Tiberon was right — if someone was deliberately weaving these incidents against me — then their hand was precise, ruthless, and clever. Too clever. They had outmaneuvered the royals, the professors, even me.

And we still had no name. No face. Only shadows.

-----X-----X-----X-----

Tiberon came to me again three nights later. He moved like a phantom, the cell door clicking open without so much as a footstep.

“You look better,” he murmured, studying me in the dim light.

“I feel better,” I admitted. “But I’m not free. Not yet.”

“You won’t be,” he said bluntly, “until we find the one pulling the strings.”

He sat across from me, folding his arms, his expression grim. “So. What do we know?”

I recited the incidents one by one, as I had countless times in my head: Amara’s missing quill, Cedric’s sabotaged wand, the library fire, Selindra’s injury in the combat drill, Serenya’s kidnapping, my explosion in the exam.

“All different, but all point to me,” I finished.

“Too consistent,” Tiberon muttered.

“Which means the culprit is close enough to watch me,” I said slowly. “Close enough to plant things, meddle with wands, tamper with wards. Someone who knows where I’ll be, when I’ll act.”

Tiberon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s half the Academy.”

“Worse,” I whispered. “It could be anyone. A jealous student. A professor who hates me. Someone in the royals’ circles. Even—” I stopped myself before saying student council. The thought had haunted me before, but I had no proof. Just suspicion.

Tiberon tilted his head, watching me carefully. “Even who?”

“Even… the ones closest to power,” I said carefully.

He didn’t push. But I saw the glint in his eyes — he’d thought the same.

-----X-----X-----X-----

That was the heart of it. We didn’t know.

Every shadow looked suspicious. Every silence sounded guilty. And the more I turned it over in my head, the more the doubts ate at me.

What if it wasn’t one person? What if it was a group? What if the royals themselves were being played like puppets?

The thought made me sick. I remembered Cedric’s glare, Amara’s tremble, Serenya’s whisper. They weren’t just my friends — they were heirs, symbols of their kingdoms. If they had been compromised…

No. I forced myself to stop. Paranoia was exactly what the real culprit wanted. If I suspected everyone, I’d trust no one. And then I truly would be alone.

Still, the truth gnawed at me: until we had proof, anyone could be guilty.

-----X-----X-----X-----

“So,” Tiberon said, breaking the silence. “What do we do when we don’t know the wolf in the pack?”

I stared at him, the answer forming in my mind. “We bait it.”

His eyes lit with approval. “Good.”

A nervous knot tightened in my chest. “You mean… set a trap.”

“Exactly.”

I hesitated. “But what if we catch the wrong person? What if no one takes the bait?”

“Then we wait. And we make the bait so tempting they can’t resist.”

His certainty steadied me. He always had that effect — where I doubted, he was iron.

“But,” he added, leaning forward, “you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Not Amara. Not Cedric. Not even Serenya. The fewer who know, the cleaner the snare.”

My mouth went dry. Keeping secrets from them hurt. But he was right. If there was even a chance one of them was compromised, telling them would doom us.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

“For now?” Tiberon’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Play the part. Stay quiet. Let them think you’re beaten. A cornered wolf draws hunters. And when they come sniffing…”

He let the words hang, but I understood.

That was when the jaws would close.

-----X-----X-----X-----

After he left, I lay awake on the cot, staring at the crystal’s steady glow.

Could I do it? Pretend to be broken, helpless, while knowing every pair of eyes might belong to the one trying to destroy me? Could I endure the whispers, the suspicion, the silence of my friends, and not lash out?

I thought of Tiberon’s vow. You’re not alone anymore.

I thought of Father’s words, long ago, when he had taught me the patience of weaving spells. The strongest threads are laid quietly, Alex. One strand at a time, until the pattern reveals itself.

Yes. I could do this. I had to.

For my name. For the truth.