Page 96 of Darkness and Deceit
She steps closer, her expression unreadable.
“You’ve always been inquisitive,” she murmurs. “Your mind is a blade. Sharp. Useful. But untempered.”
She raises her hand. Her fingers graze my cheek with a softness that doesn’t belong here. Gentle. Reassuring. Almost… affectionate.
I do not know what to do with it.
We were not raised to be comforted this way. Keepers do not touch unless they must. There were no embraces. No hands on shoulders. No warmth offered when we bled or broke.
So the gesture is not calming—it is confusing.
Performative.
This is not a moment of connection. It is a silent command. A reminder tofall in line.
And for a heartbeat, I almost do. Until I remember Lilith.
When our hands met in the cave, it was not out of tradition or duty that guided us. It was instinct. Need. Magic. Hers surged into me like sunlight bursting over the horizon.
I take a step back. Not to be rude—but because Mara’s touch suddenly feels like mimicry. An echo of something she has never truly known.
Her expression flickers. She says nothing.
But we both feel the shift.
“Your service has been remarkable,” she says instead, voice smoothing into something polished and practiced. “You are destined for great things… but you must learn to control your thoughts. Your heart is pulling you in directions the Balance may not approve of.”
It is not exactly what I was thinking, but it is close enough to set my nerves on edge. Has she guessed? Or am I simply that transparent?
I think of Lilith. Her bloodied hand in mine. The way our magic surged and became somethingother.Something alive. And how none of it felt wrong.
I want to ask her—what if the Balance does approve?
But I already know the answer I would get.
“Sometimes, we may not understand certain moments in time,” Mara continues, slipping back into the cadence she uses with initiates. “But in the end, it will all make sense. You must have faith.”
Faith.
It is what they have trained into us since the moment we were taken from our families. It is what is carved into the stone walls of the Sanctum. What we recite in every oath and invocation.
I have given them everything. My loyalty. My mind. My magic. My life.
But down in that cave, I felt something more honest than any Keeper doctrine.
And now I am not quite sure faith is enough.
“Of course,” I say quietly. Respectfully.
A lie.
Because even as the words leave my lips, my mind is already moving—already sharpening.
I will not betray them.
But I will not follow blindly either. Not when the truth lies buried in stone and shadows beneath our feet.
Something is unraveling inside this academy. Inside me.
