The hours between the end of classes and the start of detention felt less like free time and more like the slow ticking of a countdown timer on a bomb.
The Academy at twilight was a different beast than in the daylight. As the sun dipped below the jagged peaks of the mountains surrounding Babel, the white marble of the noble towers turned a cold, bruised purple. The shadows lengthened, stretching across the courtyards like grasping fingers.
I sat on a crumbling stone bench in the Commoner's Courtyard—a small, pathetic patch of dirt and dying grass behind the Undercroft. Zane was pacing back and forth in front of me. Seven steps left. Turn. Seven steps right. Turn. He was like a tiger in a cage that was too small.
"Sit down," I said, not looking up from the notebook I was scribbling in. "You're making me dizzy."
"The wind," Zane grumbled, not stopping. "It's whistling through the cracks in the wall. It sounds like a dying bird."
"Focus on my voice," I commanded softly. "The wind is just air. It has no intent. It can't hurt you."
Zane stopped. He looked at me with that mixture of hatred and need. "You're enjoying this."
"I'm not," I closed the notebook. "I'm strategizing. Tonight isn't punishment, Zane. It's an infiltration."
Zane scoffed, crossing his massive arms. "It's detention. We scrub floors while that skeleton watches."
"Vex isn't just a skeleton. He's a collector," I explained, standing up. "He hoards magical items. Artifacts. Things that are illegal to own." I walked up to Zane, forcing him to look down at me. "Somewhere in that office is something I need. Something that will help me keep the silence for longer."
Zane's ears perked up at that. The promise of more silence was the only currency that mattered to him. "What is it?"
"A ring," I said. "But we're not taking it tonight. Tonight, we look. We map the room. We find the traps. And most importantly..." I poked his chest hard. "You do not kill him."
Zane growled low in his throat. "He called me a monster."
"He is an A-Rank Mage," I reminded him brutally. "If you attack him, he won't just kill you. He will dissect you while you're still screaming. Do you understand? You are a statue tonight. You are a dumb, brute rock. Let me do the talking."
Zane stared at me for a long moment, his jaw working. Finally, he spat on the ground. "Fine. I'm a rock."
"Good rock," I smirked. "Let's go."
The Faculty Tower was a monolith of black obsidian, distinct from the white stone of the rest of the academy. It radiated a low-level mana field that made the hair on my arms stand up. It was designed to intimidate.
We walked up the spiral staircase to the fourth floor. The air grew colder with every step. There were no portraits on the walls here, only empty sconces and the smell of formaldehyde and old parchment.
We reached the door. It was dark wood, reinforced with iron bands. A brass plaque read: PROFESSOR VEX - DEPARTMENT OF DEMONOLOGY.
I didn't knock. I waited. Seconds later, the door creaked open on its own.
"Enter," Vex's voice slithered out from the darkness.
We stepped inside. The office was a nightmare of clutter. It was a large, circular room. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, packed with jars containing floating organs, dried herbs, and twisted metal artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and decay. In the center sat a massive mahogany desk, cluttered with papers. And behind it sat Vex, illuminated by a single green mana-lamp. He was dissecting a large, purple frog-like creature with a scalpel.
He didn't look up. "You're late," he lied. We were five minutes early.
"Apologies, Professor," I said smoothly, bowing my head. Zane stood behind me, stiff as a board, breathing through his nose.
Vex placed the scalpel down with a wet click. He wiped his hands on a rag and finally looked at us. His beady eyes gleamed in the green light. "Detention," Vex mused. "A time for reflection. A time to learn your place."
He stood up and walked around the desk. He was holding a small, delicate glass sphere in his hand. Inside the sphere, a black smoke swirled violently. He walked up to Zane.
"You," Vex said softly, holding the sphere out. "Hold this."
Zane looked at the sphere, then at me. I gave a microscopic nod. Zane reached out his massive, scarred hand and took the sphere. It looked like a marble in his palm.
"That," Vex whispered, leaning close to Zane's face, "is a Volatile Void Essence. If you squeeze it too hard... boom. If you drop it... boom. If your hand shakes too much..." Vex smiled, showing his yellow teeth. "...it detonates. Enough force to take off your arm and half your face."
Zane froze. His muscles locked up. The sphere was fragile. The smoke inside swirled faster, reacting to his pulse.
"You will hold that," Vex ordered, "until I say stop. Consider it a lesson in... gentleness. Since you lack it."
Vex turned to me. "And you, the theorist." He pointed to a chaotic pile of scrolls and dusty boxes in the corner. "Sort those. Alphabetical order by era. And be careful. Some of those scrolls are cursed. Read the wrong line, and you might go blind."
He returned to his desk and picked up his scalpel. "Begin."
The torture began. For Zane, it was physical and mental agony. He had to stand perfectly still, holding a bomb. The silence of the room was broken only by the squelch of Vex cutting into the frog and the scratching of his quill. I could see sweat beading on Zane's forehead. His arm was trembling slightly. The "noise" of the room—the heartbeat of the frog on the table, the scratching, the hum of the mana lamp—was assaulting him.
I moved to the corner and started sorting the scrolls. But my eyes weren't on the paper. [Skill: Mirage - Passive Observation]
I wasn't using active mana. I was using my Architect analytical ability. I mapped the room. Exits: One door. One window (locked, magical seal). Traps: A rune etched into the floor rug. A motion sensor near the bookshelf. The Prize: Where was the ring?
I scanned the shelves. Jars of eyes. Dried wyvern claws. A necklace of teeth. Nothing.
"Focus, boy," Vex's voice cut through the air. He hadn't looked up, but he sensed my distraction. "You're reading the titles too slowly."
"Just admiring the collection, sir," I replied, my voice steady. "Is that a Femur of a Ghoul King on the second shelf? 4th Era?"
Vex paused. He looked up, genuinely surprised. "Sharp eyes," he muttered. "Yes. Useless for magic, but a fine conversation piece."
I had hooked him. Vex's weakness was his pride. He loved being the smartest person in the room, but he also loved having an audience who understood how smart he was. "And the blue dust in the jar?" I asked, picking up a scroll. "Siren scales? Or... crushed sapphire?"
"Siren scales," Vex corrected, a hint of arrogance in his tone. "Ground while the creature was still alive to preserve the acoustic properties."
Acoustic properties. Bingo. If he collected items related to sound and mana, the Ring of Whispers had to be close.
I continued working, moving closer to his desk with each pile I organized. I needed to see the desktop. I pretended to drop a scroll. It rolled toward the desk. "Apologies," I murmured, bending down to pick it up.
From this angle, I could see under the papers on his desk. There was a small wooden box. Made of Weirwood—magic resistant. It was closed. But there was a faint, violet hum coming from it. The frequency matched. That was it. The Ring was in the box.
But the box was right next to his hand. Stealing it now was impossible. I needed him to leave the room. Or I needed a distraction so chaotic he wouldn't notice a slight of hand.
Suddenly, a gasp echoed through the room. I snapped my head up. Zane.
The sphere in his hand was glowing red. The smoke inside was spinning furiously. Zane's eyes were wide, fixed on the corner of the room. There was a clock there. An old, grandfather clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The sound was driving him mad. His grip was tightening. "The sound..." Zane whispered, his voice trembling. "It's... scratching my brain."
Vex looked up, delighted. "Oh? Is the beast losing control? Go on then. Squeeze it. Let's see what happens."
Vex wanted him to fail. He wanted an excuse to expel him—or worse. Zane's knuckles turned white. The glass groaned. If that thing exploded, we were all dead. Or at least severely maimed.
I couldn't use Auditory Void. Vex would sense the mana usage immediately. I had to use physics.
I stood up, holding a heavy scroll. "Professor," I said loudly. Vex ignored me, watching Zane with sadistic glee.
I didn't wait. I "tripped." I threw my body weight forward, crashing into the shelf of jars next to me. CRASH!
Three jars fell. They shattered on the stone floor. Formaldehyde and preserved organs splashed everywhere. The smell was pungent and immediate. But more importantly, the sound was loud. Shattering glass. A sharp, distinct noise that broke the rhythmic tick-tock of the clock.
Zane blinked. The rhythm was broken. The spell of the noise was snapped. He gasped, loosening his grip on the sphere just before it cracked. The red glow faded.
Vex stood up, furious. "You clumsy fool!" he shrieked. "Do you know how much those newt eyes cost?!"
"I... I tripped, sir," I stammered, scrambling back, my robes soaked in foul-smelling liquid. "The... the rug... it's slippery."
Vex marched over to me, raising his hand as if to strike me. But he stopped. He looked at the mess. Then he looked at Zane, who was breathing heavily but holding the sphere safely again. Vex realized he had lost his moment of entertainment.
"Get out," Vex hissed. "Both of you. Before I turn you into ingredients."
He snatched the sphere from Zane's hand and placed it in a padded drawer. "Get out!"
We didn't wait. I grabbed Zane's arm and we practically ran out of the office, down the spiral stairs, and out into the cold night air.
We stopped near the fountain in the courtyard. I leaned against the stone rim, wiping slime off my sleeve. "Gross," I muttered. "Newt juice is impossible to wash out."
Zane was staring at me. He looked shaken. "You... you broke the jars."
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because you were about to blow us up," I said, looking at him. "The clock was getting to you."
Zane looked down at his hands. "It was... loud. Like a hammer." He paused, then looked up at me. The expression on his face was different. The pure hatred was gone. It was replaced by something else. Confusion. And a grudging respect. "You saved me," Zane said. "You didn't use magic. You just... made a mess."
"Sometimes a mess is the best spell," I shrugged. "Besides, I got what we came for."
Zane frowned. "You didn't take anything. You just broke things."
"I took information," I tapped my temple. "I know where the Ring is. It's in a Weirwood box on his desk. I know the room layout. And I know Vex's weakness."
"What weakness?"
"He's arrogant," I smiled. "He didn't check the scroll I dropped near his desk. He was too busy watching you suffer." I reached into my soaking wet pocket. And pulled out a small, silver key.
Zane's eyes widened. "You stole his key?"
"Not the key," I corrected. "I swapped it. When I 'dropped' the scroll earlier, I used a sleight of hand to swap one of his spare cabinet keys with a dummy key I made from a piece of scrap metal this morning."
It wasn't the key to the Reliquary. It was the key to the Supply Cabinet. "This key opens the cabinet where he keeps his chemicals," I explained. "Chemicals that, when mixed correctly, create a gas that knocks people unconscious."
I looked up at the dark tower. "We don't need to fight Vex, Zane. We don't need to sneak past him." I tossed the key in the air and caught it. "Tomorrow night, we're going to gas him in his own office."
Zane looked at the key, then at me. A slow, terrifying grin spread across his scarred face. "Gas," he grunted. "I like gas. It's quiet."
"Exactly," I said. "Now, let's go back to the dorm. I need a shower, and you need your silence."
As we walked back to the Undercroft, Zane didn't walk behind me. He walked beside me. He still didn't trust me fully. But for the first time, he wasn't looking at me like a parasite. He was looking at me like a pack leader.
And that was all the opening I needed.