Page 44 of Darkbirch Academy

I fold my arms. “What?”

His amber eyes lift to mine. “The fifth component,” he says, “is Mazrov himself.”

I nod once in understanding. Of course.He was the one I came here for in the first place.

Dayn’s fingers trace the air above the moonfire essence, which pulses brighter in response. “He’s the living embodiment of the binding spell. A physical anchor with consciousness. The clearbloods call it an Enforcer—a combination of flesh, alchemical enhancement, and binding magic.”

“So, we need to...”

“Kill him.” Dayn says it simply, without malice. “Not just kill him—unbind him through the proper ritual. Death alone won’t suffice. His binding to me must be severed with the same principles that created it.”

I push away from the wall. “That’s why you need my death magic.”

“Precisely. Darkblood connection to death is uniquely suited to severing such bonds.”

“I assume you have a plan for getting him here?” I ask.

Dayn’s smile is cold and confident. “You’ll lure him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mazrov may be enhanced, but he follows human routines. Every evening, he visits the Heathborne Village’s tavern—The Broken Lantern. He drinks a glass or two of whiskey and returns to the academy by midnight.”

“And you expect me to what? Flutter my eyelashes and he’ll follow me back to your lair?” My voice drips with sarcasm.

“Something like that.” Dayn’s eyes assess me. “Surely your academy training included seduction techniques for infiltration? I’m certain you’ve been trained to adapt to any mission parameter. This is no different.”

“It’s entirely different,” I reply. “You want me to seduce amagically enhanced guard who could snap me in half, and somehow convince him to follow me back to the academy—where we’ll kill him in a ritual that, if discovered, would get me executed on the spot.”

“I’m still working on the details, but when you put it that way, it sounds rather exciting.” His tone remains maddeningly calm.

“It sounds like suicide.” I glare at him. “And if your brilliant plan fails, I’ll be the one caught red-handed while you maintain plausible deniability.”

“If you can suggest a better approach, I’m all ears.”

“Why not just grab him now? Ambush him during his patrol? Or set me up to ‘train’ under him, as you originally said you would?”

“Because—”

A sharp knock at the door silences us both.

Our eyes lock in instant understanding of the threat. That particular rhythm—three evenly spaced knocks followed by two quick ones—belongs to only one person at Heathborne.

Dayn moves with inhuman speed, dragging me toward a bookshelf on the far wall. He presses a hidden catch, and the shelf slides silently inward, revealing a narrow space behind it. Before I can react, he pushes me into the darkness and steps back, the shelf sliding closed until just a thin gap remains—enough for me to see into the room but not enough to be seen.

“One moment,” Dayn calls toward the door, his voice perfectly controlled.

He quickly sweeps the ritual components into a desk drawer, then adjusts his academic robes and smooths his expression into one of mild annoyance at the interruption. Thetemperature in the room seems to lower as he reins in his dragon nature.

When he opens the door, Mazrov stands in the threshold like a statue carved from midnight—his dark armor absorbing the light from the hallway torches, his unnaturally bright blue eyes scanning the room in mechanical sweeps.

“Professor Dayn,” Mazrov’s voice is flat, precise. “May I come in?”

“It’s rather early for official business, isn’t it?” Dayn makes no move to step aside.

“This won’t take long.” Mazrov doesn’t wait for further invitation, simply steps forward with such clear intent that Dayn has no choice but to move or make physical contact.

From my hiding place, I control my breathing, keeping it shallow and silent, inhaling the smell of ancient books. I can see part of the room through the small gap, enough to track Mazrov as he moves in a precise circuit, examining Dayn’s quarters.

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