The vice-headmistress had just left the professors’ lounge to return to her office. She took two steps forward, her gaze moving from the students to the desk.

  — Warn me about what, she repeated calmly.

  Sylaria straightened at once, her hand clenched on the edge of the furniture.

  — We saw the door open by itself, after it had been picked. There was someone here.

  Nalinaya’s gaze slid from the princess to Nahira, then to the silver ribbon placed beside the notebook.

  She stopped in front of the desk and brushed the leather with her fingertips without opening it.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly.

  — You didn’t touch anything, she said softly.

  Nahira answered without hesitation.

  — We closed what had been left open. Nothing else. The person fled while we were searching for them.

  Nalinaya examined the lock, then the hinge, then the handle, still warm.

  A heavy silence fell again.

  Snow streaked the windows like dust made of light.

  — Describe what you saw, she asked calmly.

  Sylaria inhaled.

  — A discreet clicking. Then the door cracking open. No one behind it. The door closing again.

  Nalinaya nodded slowly, attentive to every word.

  — A deflection engraving to become invisible. And someone agile and precise.

  She raised her eyes.

  — You didn’t see any face.

  — No, Sylaria replied.

  — No name to give me, Nalinaya went on.

  — None, Nahira said.

  The vice-headmistress stood before them for a moment, motionless.

  It was as though she were listening to the room, as if wood and stone could offer her the missing echo.

  At last she drew out her key and checked the lock with a steady hand.

  The click rang true.

  — Thank you for warning me. I’ll have the wing secured for the rest of the night. You may go back. It’s late, she said finally.

  Sylaria exchanged a look with Nahira.

  — Do you want us to stay and help? the princess offered.

  — That won’t be necessary. I’d rather limit the number of people who know, Nalinaya replied.

  Her gaze rested for a second on the silver ribbon.

  — And I’ll know what to check.

  Nahira inclined her head slightly.

  — We won’t tell anyone.

  — That’s preferable, Nalinaya said.

  She escorted the two students to the great door.

  After a few steps, Nahira stopped.

  — Ma’am, the person who came was looking for something specific. They knew where to look.

  Nalinaya’s eyes settled on her for an instant, as if weighing the nuance.

  — Yes. I have a very good idea, she replied simply.

  She turned away, returned to the door, slipped the key in, and locked it with a sure motion.

  The click echoed—brief and clear.

  The vice-headmistress remained still for a moment, then turned back to the two young women.

  — Go back. And get some rest.

  They nodded.

  Their footsteps faded, and they disappeared beyond the great door before it closed completely.

  Nalinaya then reopened her office door and stepped inside.

  The room had recovered its calm.

  She approached the desk.

  The notebook was there, in the same place, but an infinitesimal shift along its edge betrayed that it had been handled.

  She laid her hand flat on the cover.

  — You stay with me, she murmured.

  From a shelf she took down a small box of dark wood, opened it, and drew out a set of thin engraved metal plates.

  She slid three into the doorframe—one above, another in the shadow of the corner, the last near the floor, at the exact spot where drafts died.

  The engravings began to glow with a pale clarity, almost invisible to the naked eye.

  — That will do for tonight.

  She sat back down behind the desk.

  Her fingers brushed the broken silver ribbon.

  A memory crossed her gaze—swift and burning—which she chased away with a blink.

  She reopened the notebook, read several lines by the obedient lamplight, then closed it again.

  After a brief moment, she slipped it into a compartment hidden by the molding.

  The panel slid with a whisper of stone against stone, then melted back into the woodwork.

  She left the room, checked the lock a second time, then walked away down the deserted corridor.

  Her steps made no echo.

  Snow struck the windows at regular intervals.

  Farther on, in the shadow of a staircase leading upstairs, an invisible silhouette had pressed itself against the stone.

  Linariel didn’t dare breathe too deeply.

  She had held her breath when the vice-headmistress passed close to her.

  The whole world seemed suspended from the pulse of her heart.

  She waited for the sounds to settle.

  Then, with measured steps, almost skimming the wall, she resumed her escape and left the Great Library by the main door, opening and closing it with the utmost discretion.

  Night welcomed her whole.

  Snow fell from a bottomless sky—heavy and slow—and the sea, farther away, breathed in long black waves.

  Linariel tightened her hood.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  She hadn’t read everything.

  She hadn’t obtained all she had come for, but she held at least one certainty.

  The existence of a child of the Divinity of Life, hidden somewhere in this world.

  She would have wanted to know where, when, who.

  Her boots left a trail of footprints that filled almost at once beneath the white powder.

  She headed toward her dormitory.

  Her breath matched the wind’s steady rhythm.

  She thought of her aunt.

  Of the letter she would write her.

  Of the truth she would soon place in her hands.

  Her fingers clenched despite herself.

  — You were right, Aunt, she breathed for herself alone.

  The words were lost in the night.

  The silhouette reached her room with the greatest discretion.

  In the Great Library, calm returned to its place—whole and unbroken.

  At the end of the corridor, the door to Nalinaya’s office shone with a light barely visible, like a closed eye that, at times, remembers how to see.

  Higher up, behind the windows, the twin moons moved on—white and patient—over the black sea.

  And the Academy’s sleep, troubled for an instant, closed again like a book set down without a sound.

  _________________________

  Dawn had risen over the island of Agnos.

  Cold wind still came down from the heights, and the rooftops kept a thin layer of hardened snow. The sun—pale and discreet—filtered through a veil of mist, casting milky reflections on the windows.

  The campus woke slowly.

  A few silhouettes crossed the still-frozen paths, their steps leaving fleeting marks in the frost.

  Elwyn had barely left his room when a purple butterfly appeared in front of him—an ethereal messenger that dissolved at once into mist.

  “The vice-headmistress Nalinaya wishes to see me… strange…”

  He quickly left the dormitory and headed to the Great Library.

  The ground floor was almost empty. The engraved lamps, still lit, spread a soft light that reflected on the polished flagstones. There was only the steady sound of his footsteps and the wind behind the windows.

  When he reached the vice-headmistress’s office door, he knocked three times.

  Tock, tock, tock.

  — Enter, the vice-headmistress replied.

  Nalinaya was already seated behind her desk, upright, hands crossed over a closed file.

  Her gaze—usually kind—carried a new gravity today.

  — Good morning, Elwyn. Forgive me for summoning you so early, she said in a composed voice.

  — It’s nothing, Vice-Headmistress. You wanted to see me?

  — Yes. Close the door, please.

  He did as asked, then remained standing in front of her.

  Nalinaya paused briefly, as if weighing each word.

  — Last night, an individual broke into my office.

  Elwyn frowned slightly.

  — A student?

  — Most likely. They managed to force the lock and access private documents. Nothing is missing, but certain sensitive elements were consulted.

  She let a finger slide across the cover of a notebook placed before her.

  — Sylaria and Nahira were still in the library. They’re the ones who noticed the intrusion and drove the intruder off.

  Elwyn listened in silence.

  Nalinaya’s tone remained calm, but behind that facade he sensed a contained tension—measured, deliberate.

  — We don’t know yet who it was, she went on, but he or she was looking for something very specific. Information tied to the Divinity of Life.

  Elwyn lifted his eyes. The connection imposed itself—obvious.

  — Those pieces of information are connected to me, I assume.

  — Yes.

  She held his gaze for a long time.

  — I’d rather be honest. It’s possible that person discovered what we’ve always kept secret about you.

  Silence fell between them.

  Elwyn stayed calm—almost too calm.

  He lowered his eyes for a moment, then lifted them again slowly.

  — Do you have any idea who might have done it?

  — I have an idea, but nothing is certain. I will conduct an investigation with the other professors.

  Nalinaya folded her arms.

  — So I advise you to be cautious, and to act as though nothing happened.

  Elwyn nodded.

  — Very well.

  — Good. Then you may go.

  She paused.

  — Elwyn…

  He stopped in the doorway.

  — I’m truly sorry. This is my fault—this happened because of a mistake on my part.

  He gave a slight smile, almost imperceptible.

  — It’s alright. It isn’t such an important secret. One day, the world will know. And in the worst case… I’ll simply leave the Academy a little earlier.

  Then he closed the door behind him.

  _________________________

  Morning settled over the island of Agnos with peaceful slowness. The flakes from the day before had become a fine dust of ice on rooftops and windows. A winter calm wrapped everything, as if the world itself were holding its breath before the great year-end festival.

  In the Great Library, the silence seemed deeper still. Here, everything felt suspended between two heartbeats.

  Nahira entered softly. Her steps made almost no sound. She wore a pale fur-lined cloak, and her ink-dark hair gleamed under the amber light.

  Elwyn was already there, seated out of the cold, a book open in front of him. Beside the cup he had just set down, a plate covered by a cloth waited for her, placed on a stack of books.

  As the young woman arrived, he lifted his head to her.

  — You’re finally awake? That must have been a difficult night.

  — You saved me something to eat, she replied softly.

  She sat down, removed her gloves, and lifted the cloth.

  Beneath it, a piece of honey-gilded bread and a few slices of candied fruit waited.

  — You always know what I like, she added with a faint smile.

  — That’s because you never change your habits. Still, if you want, I can bring you something else next time.

  For an instant, they shared a look.

  — This is perfectly fine.

  Then Nahira lowered her eyes to the bread, breaking it absently between her fingers without bringing it to her mouth.

  She seemed elsewhere—calmer than usual, yet carrying an invisible weight.

  Elwyn watched that silence without breaking it.

  He had spent enough time with Nahira to understand that when she didn’t speak, it wasn’t out of modesty—it was because she was searching for the right way to do it.

  At last, she sighed, her voice almost weary.

  — I think I still have trouble believing it, she murmured.

  — You mean about what you read last night?

  She nodded slowly.

  Her deep brown eyes, flecked with amber, drifted to him—bright with a mix of curiosity and sincere unease.

  — It’s not that I don’t believe it. It’s just that… I can’t imagine it.

  — That someone like me could have such improbable origins? he said softly.

  — No— that you lived all this time with that and never told us… Wait. How do you know I know?

  Elwyn stayed silent for a moment.

  Winter light slid across his face, softening his features.

  — The vice-headmistress warned me about what happened last night, and I think you’re acting differently. At breakfast, Sylaria didn’t seem changed.

  — I see… Sorry.

  — It isn’t your fault. And besides… it isn’t that serious, at least as long as the information doesn’t spread.

  Nahira listened, attentive.

  She leaned back against her chair, fingers brushing the table’s edge.

  — I understand certain things better now. That constant calm… and that distance in your eyes sometimes.

  A thin smile passed over Elwyn’s lips.

  — You mean I seem older than I am?

  She answered with a small, discreet laugh.

  — Yes. Maybe a little.

  Her laughter faded almost at once.

  — And yet you’re still partly human, in spite of everything.

  Elwyn lifted his eyes to her, his expression gentler.

  — I didn’t exactly choose which part of me would dominate. But I know I’m not like Loyd.

  — You don’t have the same eye color as him either, she pointed out.

  — That’s because I hide them with a magical item. At least it keeps me from being too different…

  He paused briefly.

  — Maybe that’s why I’m here…

  Nahira felt a shiver run along her arms.

  — You mean being at the Academy?

  — Yes.

  Elwyn watched the golden reflections on the table, thoughtful.

  — I always feel like I don’t belong. Like something important is missing for me to integrate normally.

  He looked up at Nahira.

  — That’s why I’m not afraid of people discovering who I am. You can’t destroy what doesn’t exist. And in the worst case, I’ll just change Plan when things go bad.

  She looked at him for a long time.

  His face was peaceful, but his eyes carried a depth she had never truly seen in him before. She felt a strange warmth fill her—not the heat of fire, but a quiet softness, almost luminous.

  — You talk like someone who’s already forgiven everyone, she said at last.

  — Maybe. Or maybe I have no one to blame. Or maybe I understood it wouldn’t help.

  Their eyes met, silent.

  Nahira felt he wasn’t speaking only of his origins, but of everything he’d lived through since arriving here: the isolation, the whispers, the doubts.

  She smiled softly.

  — You know, it’s strange… After reading that notebook, I was afraid it would change the way I see you. But it’s the opposite.

  — The opposite?

  — Yes. I think I finally understand why you’re here. Why you help everyone without ever expecting anything in return. You want to learn how to love things like any other person.

  He remained silent for a moment.

  — Maybe… he finally answered in a low voice.

  The cups were empty.

  The sun had climbed higher behind the mist, casting a white glow on the windows.

  The snow’s shadow danced on the floor.

  Nahira slowly turned to Elwyn.

  — I don’t want to go back outside right away.

  — Then you can stay.

  She smiled.

  — You’re saying that because you don’t want to be alone.

  — It’s always better to have company.

  They exchanged a complicit look.

  Then Nahira gently pulled a chair next to his and sat down. Without a word, she opened one of the books Elwyn had set on the table.

  Silence wrapped around them again.

  Not the silence of secrecy, but the silence of shared rest.

  And in the golden light of the Great Library, the world seemed—for an instant—perfectly in its place.