Sylas stood frozen in the middle of the chaos, eyes locked on the jagged crown carved into the tree bark. It pulsed faintly—glowing with residual magic like it remembered being watched.
Which was deeply unfair. He wasn't the one doing the watching.
"What is it?" Vivienne's voice cut through the noise. Her daggers dripped black ichor. Her expression was unreadable.
Sylas snapped out of it. "It's… nothing."
He wasn't sure why he lied. Maybe it was instinct. Or fear. Or the fact that he wasn't ready to admit—out loud—that the symbol came from his nightmares. From before.
From the part of Sylas Vermund's backstory the original novel never explained.
Vivienne didn't press. But she noticed. She always noticed.
They made it out of the ambush, barely.
Two hybrids exploded into cursed ash before reinforcements from the Academy arrived. Sylas and the team limped back through the trees with bruises, burns, and a very confused magical envoy who kept asking if "this level of trauma was part of the educational program."
The Headmistress was waiting for them.
Althea Everhart stood in the courtyard, surrounded by sigils and ravens that shimmered with surveillance magic. Her silver robes fluttered like storm clouds.
Sylas had never felt so judged.
"I see," she said coolly. "Twenty-seven breaches. Four forbidden summons. One diplomatic guest mildly concussed. And a blood seal burned into a Northern tree ward."
Sylas opened his mouth.
"Silence."
He closed it.
The Headmistress turned to Vivienne. "Report."
Vivienne recited everything, efficient and detached. She didn't mention Sylas's hesitation or the moment he recognized the symbol. Loyalty, apparently, ran deeper than sarcasm.
Althea's eyes finally settled on Sylas. "Did you recognize the mark?"
There it was. Direct. No dancing around it.
Sylas hesitated—just a second too long.
"Yes," he said finally. "But I don't know how."
The silence after that was sharp enough to cut bone.
That night, Sylas couldn't sleep.
The system didn't help.
[QUEST UPDATE: You've attracted attention. Again.
Main Thread: THE KING BELOW
Progress: 3%
Side Effect: Unsettling dreams may occur.]
Unsettling dreams did occur.
He saw the crown again. Not carved, this time, but worn. Upon a throne that bled shadows. And below it—eyes. So many eyes.
A voice whispered:
"You remember more than you should, Sylas Vermund."
He woke up gasping.
Mira sat by his bedside, sharpening a knife that wasn't hers.
"I made tea," she said softly. "Also, someone tried to deliver a cursed letter to your room. I stabbed it."
"Thanks?"
"Don't mention it."
By morning, everyone knew.
Not the details. But enough to whisper again.
About Sylas Vermund. The weird, underpowered noble who somehow survived an ambush, faced down a forbidden symbol, and walked away like a storm was just weather.
And because fate has a sick sense of humor, that's when the dueling board was posted.
Three names:
Damien Voss
Liora Starwyn
Sylas Vermund
Opponent: Prince Lucien Elarion.
Vivienne looked up from the noticeboard. "You're fighting him?"
Sylas blinked. "I didn't sign up for this."
The system dinged:
[BONUS OBJECTIVE: Win against the golden boy without dying or permanently humiliating yourself.
Reward: Partial clarity.]
He exhaled slowly.
"Right. Because trauma wasn't enough. Now I get public trauma."