CHAPTER 8 — The Ruined Halls of the North Wing
Nights at Asteria’s academy weren’t silent.
They only seemed that way.
Wind slipped between towers and courtyards in a constant whisper, carrying the scent of cold stone and metal. Distant torches marked paths no one walked at those hours. Patrols existed, yes—but they were irregular.
Predictable, for anyone who knew how to watch.
Caelum moved without hurry.
He wasn’t wearing the full uniform. He had traded the reinforced white tunic for a darker one—simple, unmarked, without insignias. His sword remained sheathed. His horn was hidden beneath the usual bindings.
Nothing out of place.
Go alone.
It had been a conscious decision.
Not out of pride.
Out of control.
If the meeting was a trap, bringing someone else only expanded the damage. If it was a warning, the message was meant for him. And if it was what his instincts told him it was…
A mole.
Then he needed to see it up close.
The Ruined Halls of the North Wing began beyond the last restored stone arch—where the academy grew old, where renovations had been abandoned halfway through, where the corridors no longer justified the cost of repair.
A perfect place to disappear.
Caelum passed under the arch without a sound.
The air changed.
Humidity rose. The smell of ancient dust mixed with rotten wood and old parchment. A few torches still burned, but most were nothing but rusted iron brackets—useless for decades.
The silence here wasn’t empty.
It was expectant.
Don’t rush.
Don’t look around too much.
He advanced while counting steps, memorizing columns, broken doors, shadows where someone could hide. Every sound had its place. Every echo had an explanation.
He reached the point indicated by the note: a wide room filled with collapsed shelves and stone tables covered by torn canvas. Long ago it had been a military planning hall. Old maps still hung on the walls, yellowed, showing routes that no longer existed.
Caelum stopped at the center.
And waited.
Ten breaths.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Nothing.
Good.
When someone arrived late to a clandestine meeting, either they weren’t coming…
Or they wanted the other person to grow uneasy first.
“You came.”
The voice came from behind him.
Caelum didn’t turn immediately.
“You summoned me,” he replied. “Arriving late would’ve been suspicious.”
A low, contained laugh.
“You’re still meticulous.”
The voice was familiar.
Too familiar.
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Caelum turned slowly.
The man standing before him wore a dark blue academic robe, silver-trimmed—high rank. Hair neatly combed. A severe but educated face. Clean hands.
A professor.
Not just any professor.
A strategist.
One of the instructors who lectured second- and third-cycle cadets. Someone with access to patrol routes, evaluations, schedules, military plans.
Someone untouchable…
On the surface.
“Professor Halvek,” Caelum said calmly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Halvek smiled with measured politeness.
“And I didn’t expect you to accept the invitation,” he replied. “That speaks well of you.”
Confirmed.
Caelum took a slow step sideways, keeping distance. He didn’t raise his guard.
Not yet.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Halvek glanced around, as if ensuring no one listened.
“Let’s spare each other the masks,” he said. “I know who you are.”
Caelum didn’t react.
“Not your true name,” Halvek continued. “Not your exact origin. But I know you’re not just a promising cadet.”
Caelum tilted his head slightly.
“That isn’t illegal.”
“No,” Halvek conceded. “But it is… useful.”
Silence.
Halvek stepped closer. Caelum noticed the detail:
No sword.
No dagger.
Too much confidence in his position.
“I work for the Sin of Envy,” Halvek said at last. “I have for seven years.”
There was no drama in the confession.
That made it more dangerous.
Caelum felt the air harden.
“Why tell me?” he asked. “If I’m a threat, the logical move would’ve been to lure me here and kill me.”
Halvek shook his head.
“That was before. Now…”
His eyes sharpened.
“Envy wants to measure your reaction.”
Caelum narrowed his gaze.
“Reaction to what?”
Halvek raised a hand and gestured toward the old maps.
“The truth.”
With a precise movement, he lifted one of the torn canvases and revealed a recent map—modern, clean, stamped with official Asterian military seals. Supply routes. Advanced training positions. Names.
“All of this,” Halvek said, “is transmitted in fragments. Never complete. Never traceable.”
Caelum looked at the map.
He didn’t step closer.
“And you think I care?” he asked.
“You care,” Halvek replied, “because if you didn’t, you’d already be dead.”
The professor took another step.
“The Sin of Envy knows the Demon King cannot touch you directly.”
Halvek met his eyes.
“So he decided on something better.”
Halvek’s smile thinned.
“To use you as a thermometer.”
Caelum let out a short laugh without humor.
“And what do you gain?”
Halvek hesitated.
Barely.
But Caelum saw it.
“Survival,” Halvek said at last. “And power.”
There it was.
The core.
“You betrayed your kingdom,” Caelum said, “out of fear.”
“No,” Halvek corrected. “Out of foresight.”
The air tightened.
“War is coming,” Halvek continued. “And when it does, the loyal die first. I chose the side that always wins.”
Caelum watched him in silence.
Human.
Coward.
Convinced he’s intelligent.
“What do you want from me?” Caelum asked.
Halvek smiled again.
“I want you to stay still. Keep being discreet. Let us work.”
“And if I don’t?”
Halvek sighed, as if regretting something inevitable.
“Then Envy will confirm you are a problem.”
Caelum nodded slowly.
“He already confirmed it.”
Halvek frowned.
“What?”
Caelum moved.
It wasn’t explosive. It wasn’t a show. It was a short, precise step that placed him inside Halvek’s personal space before the professor could react.
Halvek recoiled instinctively.
“Listen to me,” Halvek raised his voice. “You don’t understand the magnitude of—”
Caelum struck him in the chest.
Not with full force.
Just enough to rip the air from his lungs.
Halvek dropped to his knees, gasping, eyes wide.
“I understand it,” Caelum said quietly. “And that’s why I can’t let you walk away.”
Halvek tried to scream.
Caelum covered his mouth and dragged him behind a fallen column.
“Don’t worry,” Caelum whispered. “No one comes here.”
The professor trembled.
“I-I’m an instructor,” he managed. “If I disappear—”
“They’ll investigate,” Caelum agreed. “But not today. And not in this wing.”
Halvek looked at him with real panic for the first time.
“Envy will hunt you,” he spat. “You can’t win.”
Caelum tilted his head.
“I’m not trying to win.”
He drew his dagger.
Halvek understood.
“Wait,” Halvek said. “I can give you names. Routes. Contacts. More than this.”
Caelum hesitated for a fraction of a second.
Not out of mercy.
Out of calculation.
“Speak,” he said.
Halvek spoke fast. Names of lesser instructors. A scribe. An external supplier. Contact points. Days.
Caelum memorized everything.
When Halvek finished, he was breathing unevenly, sweating cold.
“Done,” Caelum said. “Thank you.”
“T-then…?”
Caelum didn’t answer.
The dagger moved once.
There was no scream.
The body dropped heavy and still among dust and old maps.
Caelum stood motionless for a few seconds.
Listening.
Nothing.
Done.
He hid the body as best he could. Not perfectly.
Just enough to buy time.
He looked at the map one last time…
And burned it.
Small flames devoured routes and seals.
By the time it was gone, pale light was beginning to creep through the high broken windows.
Dawn.
Caelum left the Ruined Halls of the North Wing with controlled steps.
He only ran once he was out of sight.
He reached the dormitory as the bell was already ringing.
Too late.
He entered the classroom with his hair slightly disheveled and his uniform not perfectly adjusted.
The instructor looked at him.
“You’re late, cadet.”
“Yes, sir,” Caelum replied. “It won’t happen again.”
The instructor studied him a second longer than normal.
“Sit.”
Caelum obeyed.
From another row, Lyra lifted her gaze.
Not with suspicion.
With faint concern.
That was worse.
Caelum lowered his eyes.
The game has begun.
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