Adrian's hands shook as he tucked the coded letter into his boot, the parchment's edges digging into his ankle. The dorm was a mess—books scattered, blankets torn from Cassian's failed search—but the letter was safe, thanks to Lira. Her save had bought him time, but trust was a fraying rope, and he was dangling. The coronation was days away, and the Dravens' plot, whatever it was, felt like a noose tightening.
He slumped onto his cot, the weight of the decoded message burning in his mind: Proof in royal vault. The vault was a fortress, locked by magic only the king's inner circle could breach. A nobody like him had no chance—yet. But Adrian wasn't here to dream; he was here to scheme.
Morning brought a gray sky and a new problem. In the lecture hall, Professor Elara announced, "Your research papers are due before the coronation. Top three earn a court invitation." Her eyes lingered on Adrian, sharp as a blade. "Choose your topics wisely."
A court invitation. It could get him closer to the vault. Adrian's pulse raced, but doubt crept in. Cassian would be gunning for the same prize, and he had resources Adrian could only dream of—spies, bribes, magic that didn't flicker like a dying candle.
After class, Lira caught him in the corridor, her curls escaping her scarf. "You look like you're plotting murder," she said, half-joking. "What's the paper about?"
"Vault security," Adrian said, testing her. "Old wards, how they work."
Her eyes narrowed. "That's… specific. Care to share why?"
He wanted to—Lira had risked herself for him—but the truth was a blade he couldn't hand over. "Just curious," he lied, hating the taste of it.
She didn't push, but her silence stung. "Be careful," she said finally. "Cassian's watching you like a hawk."
Adrian nodded, heading to the library. He needed every scrap of knowledge on the vault, and fast. The stacks were his sanctuary, but today they felt like a trap. He found a tome on royal wards—complex spells tied to bloodlines. Cracking them was impossible without noble blood or a master's magic. His spark wouldn't cut it, but maybe a conduit could amplify it.
As he scribbled notes, Toren appeared, his lanky frame slouched against a shelf. "You're predictable, Corveth," he said, voice low. "Library again?"
Adrian's hackles rose. "And you're here why? Another 'coincidence'?"
Toren's grin faded. "I found something. A ledger in the archive—Draven payments to Lord Kael, dated before your family's fall. It's not the vault proof, but it's close."
Adrian's breath caught. "Show me."
Toren led him to a tucked-away alcove, pulling a crumpled page from his cloak. The ledger listed sums, dates, and Kael's name—bribes, clear as day. "I swiped it," Toren admitted. "Risky, but you're not the only one who hates the Dravens."
The gesture was huge, but Adrian's suspicion lingered. "Why help me? What's in it for you?"
Toren's eyes darkened. "My family lost everything, too. Dravens stepped on us to climb. Sound familiar?"
It did—too familiar. Adrian took the ledger, his mind racing. This was leverage, but the vault held the real prize. "Thanks," he said, voice tight. "Don't get caught."
Toren smirked. "Same to you."
That night, Adrian worked on his paper, weaving the vault's wards into a theory about adaptive conduits. It was dry enough to bore Elara's rivals but sharp enough to impress her. He hoped. The ledger and letter burned in his boot, a constant reminder of the stakes.
At dawn, trouble struck. Adrian woke to find his dorm door ajar, his papers scattered. The letter and ledger were still safe, but a note lay on his pillow: Stop digging, or you're next. No seal, but Cassian's hand was all over it.
He burned the note, rage simmering. Cassian wasn't just threatening—he was scared. Good. Adrian dressed and headed to the workshop, where Lira and Toren were testing a new rune. "Someone broke in," he said, voice low. "They're desperate."
Lira's face hardened. "Cassian's running out of tricks. We need to hit back."
"How?" Toren asked, tossing a crystal in the air. "He's got half the faculty eating from his hand."
Adrian's mind churned. "We don't fight him. We outsmart him. My paper—if it wins, I get to court. Closer to the vault."
Lira frowned. "That's a long shot. And dangerous."
"Everything here is," Adrian shot back. "You in or not?"
She nodded, and Toren gave a reluctant thumbs-up. They weren't friends, not really, but they were a team—for now.
As Adrian left, the Academy's spires loomed against the dawn, cold and unyielding. The vault was a distant star, but the ledger was a spark, and the letter was a flame. He'd survived the Dravens' first strike. Now, he'd light their world on fire—one truth at a time.