The Missing Relic

The Academy had always been a place of gossip. But now, every whisper seemed to coil around Alex like a tightening noose.

“Did you hear? The elven crystal’s missing.”
“They say it was last seen in the east wing vaults.”
“And guess who was spotted there last week?”

Alex kept his head down as the rumors swelled, carrying with them the sharp tang of inevitability. He didn’t need to ask who had spread them. The unseen hand that had framed him before was moving again, this time with greater precision.

Tiberon found him in the training yard, blades gleaming from relentless practice. The Beast Prince moved like a storm given form, each swing of his swords a promise of violence.

“Classic frame job,” Tiberon muttered once they were alone, sheathing the weapons. “If they plant that relic anywhere near you, it’s finished. Expelled at best, executed at worst.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Then we don’t let it get that far. We give them exactly what they want — a reason to come after me again. Only this time, the walls will be listening.”

For days, Alex mapped the east wing under cover of night. He memorized the rhythm of footsteps, the flicker of every torch, the cracks in the stone where shadows pooled too deeply. His compounded spells — Bind, Trace, and Echo — were layered into the very walls, forming a lattice of invisible seals that would rebound and reflect. Any cloaked intruder would find themselves ensnared by their own movements, exposed for what they truly were.

Meanwhile, Tiberon honed his steel. His blades sang through the air until they blurred into lines of silver fire, each motion faster, sharper, more precise than the last.

“Don’t hold back,” Alex told him one evening as they tested the seals. “If they’re what I suspect, steel alone won’t stop them.”

Tiberon smirked, the edge of his teeth catching the lamplight. “Then I’ll just swing harder.”

The stage was set. All that remained was to let the shadows walk into their own trap.