After dinner, Arin sat restlessly in the courtyard, a new leather-bound journal clutched tightly in his hands. His eyes flicked between the wooden gate and the night sky, foot tapping as he muttered under his breath.
"Why isn't he here yet?"
The journal— Darian's old notes— was found only because of Kael. Arin had promised himself he'd wait.
Finally, in the dim glow of wooden lamplights mounted along the village homes, a familiar silhouette appeared.
"There he is!" Arin waved furiously. "Kael! Hurry!"
Kael jogged closer and gave a respectful nod toward Lyra, who was clearing the dinner table nearby.
"Hello, Miss Lyra! I promise to behave well tonight!"
Arin burst into laughter, and even Lyra raised an eyebrow in amused surprise.
"Well then, enjoy yourselves," she said with a smirk. "I'll bring you some snacks in a while."
The boys dashed into Arin's room and flopped onto the bed, sitting side by side. Arin laid the journal carefully in front of them.
"Hurry up, open it already!" Kael urged.
Arin hesitated, excitement and nerves warring in his chest. "It's big... We won't be able to finish it all tonight. Should we read from the beginning or just flip to random pages?"
Kael shrugged. "Let's go random. Feels more fun that way."
"Alright then." Arin nodded and opened a page midway through.
---
Dusk
Sword drills at dawn. Elemental focus meditations after second bell. The body aches, but I feel my flame stirring.
They say mastery takes ten thousand hours. Here, they give us ten thousand bruises first.
---
"This must be from his South Academy days," Arin guessed.
"Looks like we're in for a beating once we get there," Kael said dryly. "Still want to enroll?"
"Elder Marn says strength is earned, not gifted. We should expect no less from a true academy."
Arin flipped again.
---
Pre-dawn expedition
I found a cave near the southern cliffs— waterfall-guarded. Within it: glowing moss pulsing with mana. Just breathing in there sharpened my focus. I dare not tell anyone.
---
"Glowing moss?" Kael's eyes widened. "Think it's a natural treasure?"
"Could be," Arin murmured. "And he said it's guarded. Maybe by a magical beast?"
Kael grinned. "So what if it is? The journal's practically giving us a treasure map."
Arin blinked, realizing the same thing. "But… that was ages ago. It might not even be there anymore."
Kael shrugged. "Then let's hope it is. And that it's guarded by a really strong beast."
Arin gave him a flat stare. "And how would we deal with that?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Kael grinned. "We get stronger than it."
Arin rolled his eyes and flipped to another page. Kael always dreams big… he thought. Me? I'm just curious.
---
Truth I've Learned
True strength isn't loud. It waits. Watches. Then strikes when the veil is weakest.
Even the wind waits to howl.
---
"What does that even mean?" Kael frowned. "Is true strength beating up weaker people?"
"I don't think that's it," Arin said, equally puzzled.
Just then, Lyra entered with a tray full of snacks.
"Mama! Can you help us understand something?" Arin asked.
She leaned over and read the passage carefully.
"Ah," she smiled. "Your father meant that strength isn't always in showing off. If you announce your power, the enemy slips away before the fight even starts. The strongest often look like the weakest— until it's too late. Cunning is strength. Strategy is strength. You don't need to be the loudest in the room to win."
Kael and Arin nodded slowly. "Makes sense…"
"How'd you know what he meant so quickly?" Arin asked.
Lyra chuckled. "I know how your father thinks, dear."
She patted Arin's head and left the room.
They continued reading.
---
Dorm curfews enforced by those damned patrol golems. One caught Jerek sneaking out with a spirit charm— confiscated and sent to Elder Vethros. Poor soul hasn't spoken since.
I've started training in silence. The mind listens better without the noise of ego.
---
"There must be a ton of rules at the academy," Arin laughed. "Kael, don't get caught sneaking around."
"Me? Get caught?" Kael huffed. "Please. No golem can keep up with me."
Arin opened another entry.
---
Ghost Town
Only appears at dusk. Walk too far in, and shadows follow.
An old man asked my name. I didn't answer. He said, 'Then you'll forget it too.'
I ran.
---
Both boys shivered.
"Spooky…" Arin whispered.
"Just a creepy old town," Kael said, trying to sound brave. "Totally normal."
They flipped to the next entry.
---
The underground tunnels are older than the academy itself. I followed the faded torches to a sealed chamber. The scripts on the door weren't of this age.
A library lies beyond. I know it.
---
Arin's jaw dropped. "A secret library under the academy?"
"What kind of lunatic explores stuff like this?" Kael whispered. "That's got to be forbidden."
Arin closed the journal slightly. "I think we should keep this to ourselves."
"You better," Kael agreed. "This kind of stuff? We don't even know what it could lead to."
Arin flipped one last time.
---
Suspicion
One of the elders doesn't belong.
Too curious about forbidden texts. His eyes linger too long on soul marks. He asks questions no teacher should.
If he's who I suspect… he's part of something older. Something hidden.
---
The boys exchanged glances.
"What was Father up to?" Arin whispered. "It's like he was… investigating something. A secret. An old one."
"Did he name the elder?"
"No," Arin replied, closing the journal.
"Yeah… let's stop for today." Kael sighed. "My brain's full of secrets. I don't want it to explode."
Arin stood and stretched. "Fair enough. What are you up to tomorrow?"
"Watching my dad at the smithy! He promised to let me watch him work."
"That sounds awesome," Arin smiled. "I'll be at the herbal store helping Mom."
Kael headed to the door, waving. "Good Night, Arin!"
"Good night!" Arin waved back.
Once Kael left, Lyra approached.
"So," she asked softly, "what did you find in your father's journal?"
"Lots of secrets, Mama. Hidden places… creepy towns. Dangerous things."
A flicker of concern crossed her face, but Arin forced a smile.
He thought to himself, Should I tell her about the tunnels? The suspicious elder? Could this be connected to Father's disappearance…? No… not yet. He shook the thoughts away.
"Mama…" he said instead, "he seems really daring, doesn't he?"
Lyra sat beside him, her eyes softening.
"Your father," she said gently, "was always a quiet soul. He didn't speak more than necessary. But he listened more than most. He loved knowledge— not just the kind in books, but the kind that lives in old places and strange stories."
She looked out the window.
"He used to wander into places no one dared to go— caves, ruins, places even the elders whispered about. Not recklessly, but with confidence. It was like he trusted the world to show him secrets if he was brave enough to ask."
Arin stared at the closed journal in his hands.
"And he was brave," Lyra finished. "But not loud about it. Just… determined. And that's the kind of courage that lingers."
She kissed Arin's forehead, smiled softly, and left him alone with his thoughts.
The candle beside his bed flickered gently as he opened the old journal one last time— just to run his fingers over the ink his father had left behind.
The letters felt old yet alive— as if they remembered.
Then, it came again.
>"Seeek..."
A whisper, low and cold. This time, it was followed by a chill wind brushing past his neck.
He turned sharply. The window was closed. The night outside was still. Not a leaf stirred.
Arin's shoulders stiffened, and he exhaled slowly, calming his pounding heart. After a moment, he sat back, rubbing his arms.
"When will these whispers stop?" he wondered, gazing out at the stars above.
For nearly two years now— ever since awakening his soul mark— these whispers had haunted him. He had grown almost used to them. They emerged in strange moments: in the quietest corners of the library, during deep study, or like now— when his fingers brushed old memories inked in paper.
Sometimes, he thought they were guiding him— pulling him toward something. Maybe even toward the truth behind his father's disappearance.
But other times, he feared the truth was too dangerous to know.
Either way, Arin knew one thing tonight: he needed rest. He had promised to help his mother with her morning chores at the herbal store.
He pulled the blanket over himself and closed his eyes.
Far away, deep beneath stone and silence, a book in the forbidden section of the ancient library stirred.
A cold wind rippled through the sealed shelves— yet no door had opened. No soul was there to feel it.
Only the book knew. And it had begun to wake.
The rest of the night passed in quiet stillness. No more whispers. No more unnatural cold.
Just the hum of stars above— and a silence too heavy to be called peace.