Far from Veilcroft and the madness beneath its cathedral, across the mist-choked valleys that separated cities of stone and spire, a quiet carriage wound its way up the obsidian roads toward Arcanum Academy.
Inside, the air was silent save for the rhythmic scratching of ink on parchment.
A girl sat alone.
Sharp silver eyes. Platinum hair tied into a knot. Leather gloves inscribed with anti-magic glyphs. She wore no crest, no academy insignia—only a simple cloak marked with the spiral eye of the Absolute Gaze.
Her name was Selia Glassveil.
A hunter.
A Seer of the Real.
And she had come to kill the lie.
---
The Order of the Absolute Gaze was old—older than the Arcanum, older than kingdoms. They believed that truth was sacred, and illusion was sin. They trained their faithful to detect and destroy all falsehoods woven through mana and mind alike.
Selia was their youngest prodigy. And her eyes—anointed in sacred clarity—could see through all magical deceit.
Three days ago, she had received a sealed order:
> "A boy has cracked the seams of belief. He spreads contradiction like a plague. His name is Rowan Edevane. Find him. End him."
Selia didn't ask questions.
She obeyed.
---
She arrived at Arcanum under false pretenses—a transfer student from the Eastern Tower Institute. Her records were forged by the Order. Her mana signature masked.
On her first day, she watched.
Rowan laughed in the courtyard, playing cards with a few lower-rank students. His aura was calm—unimpressive. His magical output barely registered.
But when Selia turned on her inner sight—
She gasped.
Around him spun layers of broken logic: spells that didn't exist, power drawn from belief, and passive influence that made reality blink.
This wasn't illusion.
It was anti-truth.
She clenched her fists.
"I'll watch you," she murmured. "And then I'll undo your entire existence."
---
But Rowan noticed her.
He always noticed new variables.
At lunch, he casually sat beside her.
"You're new," he said.
"I am," Selia replied. "Selia. Transfer. Eastern Tower."
"Nice eyes," Rowan said, glancing sideways. "You're trying to see through me already?"
She stiffened.
"I'm just observant."
"Sure," Rowan said with a smirk. "Just don't look too deep. You might fall in."
He left.
And Selia sat frozen.
She had prepared for illusionists.
But she hadn't prepared for awareness.
This boy… he knew he was being hunted.
And worse—he didn't mind.
---
That night, Selia stood before a mirror, activating her lens of absolute truth.
She stared into her own reflection.
And behind her, for just a second, she saw a figure.
Rowan. Smiling.
And he whispered:
"Some truths are better broken."
Selia turned—but no one was there.
The candle beside her flickered into a question mark.