(Hello!! If you have any feedback, ideas, or criticism please comment or join my discord server. I want to make this story a long-running one, and to feel motivated I need to know what i should improve on. I'm a beginner author, some parts might be rough to read at times)
No one knew much about René. An alumnus who stayed within the academy at all times, studying the art of combat and the wonders of the world. Magic, ancient heroes, the divine. He wanted to know everything about this world.
He sat at his cluttered desk within Professor Thorne's room. Books lay scattered across the desk like fallen leaves—worn pages filled with diagrams of mythical weapons, notes in old languages, half-legible theories about the All-Defying Beings.
Across the room, Professor Thorne was digging through a crate of scrolls with all the care of a man searching for his lost spectacles. "I swear, the archivists down below can't organize a shelf to save their lives." he muttered.
René didn't respond. He rarely did unless spoken to directly.
"You're a good student, you know." Thorne added, glancing up. "Could've left the academy years ago. Found a powerful party, maybe a position in the capital."
"Not interested."
The professor sighed, half amused. "Still searching for answers?"
"I'm not done learning."
That earned a short chuckle. "If you ever are, let me know. I'll retire on the spot."
Just then, the door creaked open. A younger student poked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt, sir. There was… this strange letter found in the archives. It was on the floor along with ink spilled all over the place."
Thorne rubbed his temples. "René, would you?"
René was already standing.
"Be quick, yeah?"
He nodded and left. Another errand.
The door to the Archives was wide open. Blue light illuminated the rows of books and documents. Turning around the corner, a single page was on the floor. Ink painted the surrounding area as if it came from a bloody murder. René crouched down to take a look at the few words still legible.
However, he stopped last second. Someone else was here. He knew for certain.
"You work too much, you know." came a voice, sudden and soft, from behind one of the shelves.
It was a female voice. He didn't reply. Not at first. Just carefully got back up and reached for the blade he kept strapped beneath his coat.
"Who's there?" he asked.
Silence again.
Then, slowly, a figure stepped out from the shadows between shelves. A gray cloak, dark blue hair and eyes.
She smiled, her hands behind her back. "Call me Nihara."
"Never seen you before."
"I've been hiding, René—"
"How do you know my name?" he interrupted.
"Oh, let me speak. I know many things about you. I've been in here for weeks secretly, looking through all the documents, records, everything. You were the one who wielded the Dusk Blade, hm?"
René stood in silence for a moment. Hesitantly, he admitted it. "Yes. I did. What about it?"
"I have a really special deal for you!"
She suddenly spun behind him, the gray cloak falling to her feet. René turned—and froze.
Black wings stretched outward.
"You're... an angel...?"
She simply kept on smiling.