They chose the alley where the lamps threw thin columns of light and the rest of the academy had already melted into curfew. Winter air pinched at their faces; breath came out in quick white puffs. Three shadows leaned against rough stone, two more shuffled uneasily a step behind them. Their voices were too loud for the hour, but not loud enough to sound brave.

  “Suri’s the weakest of them,” the tallest said, like he was stating a fact of nature. He said it as if weakness was a thing you could measure with a ruler—a thing you could fix with a shove.

  “Then we teach her a lesson,” another answered, the kind of sentence people say when they want the others to agree so they don’t have to mean it themselves.

  A smaller boy, one with too-smooth hair and the kind of eyes that stayed on faces rather than fields, made a face. “I can’t do that,” he said. “She’s—” He broke off, embarrassed by the truth. “She’s too pretty.”

  The first laughed, a thin sound. “We’re not going to kill her. We just scare her off.” The laugh had no teeth to it; it was an imitation of cruelty.

  A girl curled her scarf tighter and tried for confidence. “She’s just another commoner,” she said. It was an effort, the way someone repeating a line might hope the line would become true if said enough. Her voice flattened. “Don’t let her face distract you.”

  They argued with the small bravado of people who have never had to make a hard decision and think they know the right one. They traded roles—who would say things, who would be the lookout—because deciding who will be the bad actor is the only part of the plan that costs them anything. Their hands found unfamiliar courage in clenched fists; in their minds they were already the ones who taught lessons in other people’s tales. Their boots scuffed, nervous as a drum roll before a stage.

  ……

  The training field was wrapped in pale winter mist, breath puffing white from the students as they sparred and practiced. Then—

  Clatter.

  Every head turned. A single bone rolled across the frosted dirt. At first, everyone thought it had been dropped. But then it jerked. Twitched. Moved on its own.

  Gasps rippled through the class.

  “That’s… that’s a human bone,” someone whispered.

  Roy stood straighter, his expression proud yet guarded. “Meet the [Bowman].”

  The bone twisted unnaturally, shifting into the form of a skeleton’s arm. Kana, frowning, handed over her own bow. The air grew tense as the skeletal hand wrapped around the grip—then pulled back the string with startling precision.

  Thrum!

  The arrow streaked through the air and buried itself in the target dummy’s head. Dead-center.

  Students broke into murmurs of awe and fear. Yuri immediately began experimenting, trying different spells and techniques to see if the summon reacted. Kana stepped in with suggestions, testing its limits. The thing obeyed. Smooth. Efficient. Too efficient.

  “I guess… we have a new member,” Rin said, half-joking, though his eyes stayed locked on the moving bones with unease.

  “It’s kinda a cheat skill,” Kana muttered. “Similar to Suri’s.”

  Boris folded his arms, scowling. “If this works… we might see flying bones for the first time in a few months..”

  That thought drew nervous laughter, but no one could quite shake the image.

  Word spread fast. Before long, Wor-en and several other professors arrived, watching closely from the edge of the field. Even they looked unsettled.

  Then Principal Light himself appeared, staff tapping against the frosted earth as he walked. His usually calm face was lit with a rare intensity, eyes sharp, almost hungry. He leaned on his staff looking cane and studied the animated bones with unnerving delight.

  “Very interesting skill,” the principal said at last. His voice carried across the hushed field. His eyes gleamed—too bright, too eager. “Yes… very interesting indeed.” He scribbled furiously into his notebook. “I will rate it as an excellent skill. An exemplary display of the [Necromancer]’s potential.”

  Roy straightened under the praise, but Kana felt a chill trace down her spine. It wasn’t just curiosity in the principal’s eyes—it was possession.

  Like he’d just found a new toy.

  …

  There was a small break between morning classes. The subject was The North, dry as old parchment due to repetitive exercises and most students seemed more interested in the strange new bones Roy carried with him than in lectures of endless snow.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  They sat beneath the wide oak on the edge of the courtyard, the air thick with the chatter of curious classmates.

  “You will not believe it,” Suri said, lowering her voice. “The duke managed to buy another right to enter into the dungeon—mid-low level.”

  “With Kier?” Boris asked.

  “With Kier,” she confirmed.

  Kana’s red eyes narrowed. “We need to move that. Some of the student council members are planning to visit the orphanage this weekend. To check the progress.”

  Boris groaned. “So… no raid this week?”

  Their quiet moment was cut short by a rising murmur across the courtyard—students clustered, whispering, eyes fixed on Roy.

  Kana, Boris, and Suri pushed their way through. Roy stood stiff, pale, beside Elle York of the student council.

  “What happened?” Kana asked, voice level.

  Boris leaned over Roy’s shoulder, scanning the ground. “Where’s our bony guy?”

  Roy’s lips pressed thin. “It’s gone. Vanished. I… I can’t summon it back. The connection’s gone.”

  Elle York wrung her hands. “I’m really sorry. I thought—”

  Rin stepped in quickly, voice tight. “She used her skill, [Full Heal]. Thought it might… strengthen the bones. But instead—” Rin gestured helplessly. “Poof. Nothing left. Not even dust.”

  For a moment, silence hung over the group.

  Then Kana doubled over, clutching her stomach. A sharp laugh tore from her, surprising everyone.

  Suri blinked. “Did you just laugh?”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Kana gasped, fighting another fit of laughter. “I just—remembered something. Something… funny.”

  Her voice wavered, caught between amusement and something else.

  Because it was common sense, wasn’t it? Holy skills against undead meant only one outcome: obliteration. She knew that.

  But as the laughter settled, a chill brushed her.

  That knowledge of her. Was not from this world.

  Suri shook her head, then knelt beside Roy. His eyes were rimmed red, the boy clinging hard to keep his composure.

  “Forget about that,” she said softly. “We’ll get you something better next month. A flying monster’s bone.”

  “Yeah,” Boris chimed in with a crooked grin. “Bet you can ride it, too.”

  Elle York shifted uncomfortably, guilt written all over her face. “Uhmm… I’ll pay for the damages. I—I didn’t mean—”

  Boris waved her off, an easy smile disarming. “You don’t need to. Accidents happen. We’ll find him with stronger bones.”

  Kana exhaled slowly, then leaned close to Roy’s ear. Her whisper was too faint for the others.

  Roy blinked, stiffened—then suddenly his face lit with understanding. “Ahh!” He snapped his fingers. “Right.”

  Suri squinted at them. “What did you say to him?”

  Kana pulled back, her expression unreadable. She grimaced, eyes narrowing just slightly. “I’m not sure if that was a good idea… or a bad one.”

  …..

  Classes ended on time, but not for Suri. Dinner sat heavy in her stomach as the bell rang, curfew closing in. She sighed, pulling her cloak tighter. Tonight was her turn for night patrol. Again.

  She could have excused herself, but she’d already taken the bribe—the Principal’s mana potion.

  Seven of them gathered under the iron lanterns. Tonight’s overseer was Professor Enry. His eyes sagged beneath sleepless lids, his posture weary. Suri wondered if he was fit to lead a patrol at all, though she bit back the thought.

  Valdis offered his usual smirk as if she did something wrong. Beside him, Mica stood tall, her massive feline Shai at her side, tail swishing lazily. Pan and Loize Galley rounded out the group.

  The briefing was short, almost casual. They all knew the routine now.

  “Remember,” Enry said, his tired gaze locking directly on Suri. “If your illusion misses something, you’ll be required to personally inspect your patrol area. Every night.”

  Suri forced a smile and nodded. Her throat was dry. Surely, her illusion wouldn’t betray her.

  The patrols spread into the night.

  Suri walked alone, going back to the dorm to get some sleep, while her illusion would do the patrol for her. Her boots clicked softly against the cobblestones. The air was damp, carrying a thin mist that blurred the lamps.

  Then—

  A sound.

  She froze.

  “Help…”

  A woman’s voice, faint. So faint she almost thought it part of the night breeze.

  Her hand shot to her ear, feeding mana into her skill. Illusion swept around her, searching, probing. Nothing clear. Only the whisper again.

  “Help…”

  Her skin prickled. Ghost? Her breath quickened as unease curled cold fingers along her spine.

  She should report back. That was the sensible choice. But… what if she had heard a ghost that no one would ever see.

  Her feet carried her before her mind decided. Toward the sound.

  Toward the dark alley where no lantern burned. Shadows pooled like ink, so dark her illusion’s eyes rendered useless.

  Suri swallowed, throat tight.

  Reluctant or not, she thought, I have to see.

  And she stepped into the dark.