The academy still reeled from the attack. Even with the assailants routed and the city guards increasing their patrols, unease hung in the air like the lingering scent of smoke from the destroyed dormitories. The students had scattered—some seeking refuge with noble families, others hiring personal guards, and a few choosing to fend for themselves in the city. The academy itself, a symbol of learning and power, now felt like a battlefield awaiting its next war.
In the dimly lit forge that Kalem had made his own, five figures gathered around the glow of a small enchanted brazier. The forge, tucked away in a quieter district, had become an unofficial meeting place for those who chose independence over external protection. It was safer than most places, at least for now.
Jhaeros leaned back against a stack of unused iron ingots, arms crossed. His ears twitched as he spoke.
"There's movement in the city. Not just students looking for shelter—professionals. Certain inns that were half-empty a week ago are suddenly full. Some shops close before sunset without explanation. And the black market's been unusually active."
Kalem nodded, adjusting the flexible steel plates on his workbench.
"Assassins need supplies too. If there's an active market, it means someone's funding them."
Lyra frowned, arms folded.
"And yet, we have no idea who's behind it."
Garrick, who had been sharpening a dagger absentmindedly, grunted.
"It's always the same. The ones pulling the strings are never the ones getting their hands dirty." He tested the blade against his gloved thumb. "The moment we find the source, this whole mess can end."
Nara let out a breath. "Finding them isn't the problem. Surviving long enough to do anything about it is."
Kalem considered her words. Unlike the others, he hadn't hired a bodyguard or sought refuge. He still walked the streets alone, as if daring someone to make a move. But even he knew that this wasn't sustainable.
"The faculty is moving carefully," he said after a pause. "They're not showing it, but they're preparing for something."
Jhaeros nodded. "They're probably trying to figure out how deep this goes before acting."
Silence settled in, the only sound the faint crackling of burning coal.
Then Nara spoke. "And what if it goes deeper than we think?"
Meanwhile, at the academy, the remaining faculty convened in the war room—a secured chamber reinforced with protective sigils. Valdris stood at the head of the room, his presence like a storm barely held in check. Around him, the heads of various disciplines sat with grim expressions, the weight of recent events pressing down on them.
Professor Baudric flipped through a stack of reports, his usual relaxed demeanor gone. "Too much information has leaked. We anticipated attacks, but they knew our weak points. This suggests an inside source."
Madam Lysara, still tending to the last of the injured, glanced up. "You mean a traitor among the students?"
"Or the staff." Gregor's voice was like grinding stone. The dwarven professor's hands were clenched into fists. "No way they pulled off a coordinated attack like that without inside help."
Alaric Vermund, the Head of Material Studies, drummed his fingers against the table. "Then we must find them before they do more damage."
Valdris, silent until now, finally spoke. "We will. But first, we ensure the students who remain under our protection are truly safe. No more losses."
The room fell into agreement. Unseen, somewhere within the academy's walls, a hidden figure listened in silence—an unseen player in a game of knives and shadows.
And the Blood Nights had only just begun.