Page 30 of Darkbirch Academy

He slides a small brass key across the table. “Academic privileges. Try not to look so surprised that I’m actually helping you.”

I pocket the key without thanks and rise from the table. “Just remember our agreement. This isn’t about saving your skin—it’s about preventing Heathborne from creating more monsters like Mazrov.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. “Careful, Ms. Salem. Your hatred is showing.”

“It never left.” I turn away before he can respond.

The eastern stacks rise before me like a labyrinth of knowledge, each shelf stretching from floor to ceiling with narrow ladders providing access to the highest volumes. I climb one, running my fingers along dusty spines, searching for anything related to binding runes.

Alone with my thoughts, I allow myself to acknowledge the bitter truth: I’m trapped in this alliance with a man I’d gladly kill at the first opportunity. A man who represents everything my family has fought against. Yet here I am, dependent on his knowledge, his connections within Heathborne, his understanding of the binding magic that created the first Emissary.

I find a promising volume tucked between larger tomes, its spine marked with symbols similar to those in my briefingmaterials. The text inside is dense, written in an archaic form that requires my full concentration to decipher. Most of it discusses theoretical applications of binding magic, but a passage near the middle catches my attention:

“The convergence of both blood lines through ancient bonds creates a threshold neither living nor dead. Such vessels become pathways between realms, accessible only through the Relic of Severance.”

I trace the accompanying diagram with my finger. This could be it—a reference to the unbinding ritual and the artifact we need. I memorize the page and continue searching, finding scattered references that begin forming a cohesive picture.

When I return to our meeting point, Dayn is already waiting, a shadow of impatience crossing his features.

“Did you actually find something useful, or were you just hiding from me?” he asks.

I slide my discoveries across the table. “References to the Relic of Severance. Multiple sources pointing to a common location.”

His eyes scan the pages quickly, his expression shifting from skepticism to approval. “This confirms what I found. The relic is kept in a dimensional fold accessed through the academy’s foundation stones.”

“You mean the tunnels beneath Heathborne.” The realization hits me with unpleasant clarity. “Where security is tightest.”

“Where magical currents are strongest,” he replies. “The academy was built over an ancient convergence point. The founders weren’t just being symbolic—they were harnessing power.”

I process this information, mentally calculating the risks. “So, we need to access these tunnels, find the specific location where the dimensional fold opens, and extract the relic without alerting Heathborne’s security or triggering any protective enchantments.”

“Simple, isn’t it?” Dayn’s sardonic tone matches my own thoughts.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying this?” I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

“Because you assume I enjoy everything that causes you discomfort.” He gathers the books, returning them to their proper places with meticulous care. “A flattering but incorrect assumption.”

Before I can respond, the distant sound of footsteps echoes through the library. The night custodian—or worse, a security patrol. Dayn reacts instantly, extinguishing the nearby lantern and pulling me into a shadowed alcove between two tall bookcases.

The sudden darkness is complete, and I find myself pressed uncomfortably close to him, feeling the unnatural heat that radiates from his skin. His hand on my arm is firm but not painful, a silent command to remain still. I hate that my body automatically complies, trained to recognize tactical necessities even when they involve unwanted proximity.

We stand frozen as the footsteps grow louder, then pass directly in front of our hiding place. Through the narrow gap between shelves, I glimpse a robed figure carrying an enchanted lantern, its blue light casting eerie shadows as it moves deeper into the library.

“Just the archivist,” Dayn whispers, his breath warm against my ear. “But we’ve stayed too long.”

I step away from him the moment the danger passes, creating distance between us. “We have what we need anyway. The tunnels beneath Heathborne, a dimensional fold, and the Relic of Severance.”

“Not quite all we need.” Dayn pulls a folded parchment from inside his coat. “This is a partial map of the underground network. Incomplete, but better than wandering blindly.”

I take the map, studying its faded lines and cryptic annotations. “And you just happened to have this?”

“I’ve been planning this extraction for longer than you’ve been infiltrating Heathborne, Ms. Salem.” His tone is measured, almost clinical. “Procuring that map is something I was comfortable doing in advance.”

The implication that I’m somehow less prepared than him stings, but I swallow my retort. The map is genuinely useful, showing paths I wouldn’t have known existed.

“We should go,” I say instead. “Separately. You first, then me after five minutes.”

Dayn nods once, a curt acknowledgment of the tactical wisdom. “Meet at the eastern service stairwell in twenty minutes. It leads directly to the lower levels.”

---