Kazuyoshi's POV: A Thread in the Web
Kazuyoshi glided through the academy's undercroft, torchlight flickering against damp stone walls, casting jagged shadows that writhed across moss-slicked floors. The air hung heavy with mildew, the relentless drip of a leaking pipe echoing like a heartbeat, each drop a mocking reminder of the blood he craved. The hunger clawed at his core, intensified by Yuki's scent from her earlier archive visit—her blood's coppery tang, first tasted when he drank from her to survive months ago, mingling with the trust in her turquoise eyes. That scent was a siren's call, its rich allure a constant threat to his iron control. Crimson eyes glinted, narrowing as he descended a spiraling stair to the greenhouse, its glass walls fogged with mist, the air thick with rotting earth, bitter herbs, and decaying moonblooms.
His plan was taking shape, a delicate web to secure the next shard, hidden in the catacombs' depths, and to tighten his hold over Seraphina, whose doubts threatened his schemes. The ritual required rare ingredients—bloodroot and shadowthorn—imbued with Umbrar's essence, and Mira, a new student with mousy brown hair and nervous hazel eyes, was his perfect pawn. Her herbology skill made her ideal, cloaked as aid for the healers' overtaxed stores, though she held no deeper significance. He found her in the greenhouse's heart, kneeling among moonblooms, their silvery petals glowing under enchanted lanterns, her fingers trembling as she clipped leaves, her breath misting in the humid chill.
"Hey, Mira," Kazuyoshi called, voice smooth as velvet, a practiced smile softening his crimson gaze. He leaned against a rusted iron trellis, vines curling like skeletal fingers, the metal creaking faintly. "Working late again? Those moonblooms look like they're putting up a fight."
Mira startled, nearly dropping her shears, her hazel eyes flicking up, cheeks flushing pink. "Oh! Kazuyoshi, hi," she said, voice high with nerves, brushing soil from her hands. "Yeah, they're a pain—super finicky. What're you doing out here? Don't you, like, live in the archives?"
He chuckled, low and warm, stepping closer, the humid air clinging to his cloak. "Pretty much. But the healers are drowning with Shiro's case—barely keeping up. They need someone with your herb skills. Ever work with bloodroot or shadowthorn? Rare stuff, grows in the lower gardens. Figured you'd be up for it."
Mira's eyes widened, a mix of pride and nerves, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater. "Bloodroot and shadowthorn? I've read about them—bloodroot's tricky, loves damp soil, and shadowthorn's got those creepy black spines. For the healers, though? I can totally try!" She paused, biting her lip. "Wait, why me? I'm just… y'know, a nobody first-year."
Kazuyoshi tilted his head, his smile disarming. "C'mon, Mira, don't sell yourself short. I've seen you handle these plants like a pro. Healers are desperate, and you're their best shot. Just keep it quiet, okay? Don't wanna stress them out more."
She nodded eagerly, her flush deepening. "Got it! I'll check the lower gardens tonight, near the old fountain. Thanks for thinking of me." She grabbed her satchel, nearly tripping over a root as she hurried off, boots sinking into the muddy path.
Kazuyoshi watched her go, his smile fading, eyes cold and calculating. Mira was a tool, nothing more. The scroll implicating Lord Eldrin burned in his locked drawer, its secrets a weight as heavy as his guilt. He clenched his fists, nails biting palms, a trickle of blood grounding his hunger. The shard, Seraphina's silence, and avoiding exposure were urgent, or the monster in the mirror would consume him.
Elias's POV: A Trail of Blood
Elias stood in Headmaster Alaric's office, towering bookshelves looming under enchanted lanterns, their golden light casting claw-like shadows across a mahogany desk cluttered with scrolls, quills, and a cracked inkwell dripping like blood. The air was thick with old parchment, wax, and a faint metallic tang, as if the room held secrets too heavy to breathe. His deep blue eyes, sharp as sapphire, locked onto Alaric's weathered face—silver hair swept back, stern jaw set, storm-cloud eyes hiding truths. In his gloved hand, a blood-soaked scrap of fabric from Liora's clearing bore a faint, smudged sigil drawn in blood, its lines jagged yet deliberate, tingling with magical residue. A scrying crystal had confirmed the blood's potency, but its donor remained unknown, though Elias's ancient mage lineage—stronger than most, hidden beneath his investigator's facade—sensed a deliberate frame. The sigil matched one near Shiro's attack site, too precise for coincidence, a thread tying the attacks to something darker.
Elias leaned forward, his voice steady but probing, confidence radiating from his poised stance. "Headmaster, this sigil screams blood magic—old, forbidden, precise. The blood on this cloth ties Shiro's attack to Liora's death, and it's no accident. It feels planted, like someone's stirring the pot. Any new staff or students acting strange? Anything suspicious these past months?"
Alaric's fingers paused mid-drum, his storm-cloud eyes narrowing, unease breaking his stoic mask. "Planted?" he echoed, voice low, leaning back, chair creaking. "The academy's walls hold many shadows, Varnholt. You want suspicious? Before your time—before this tale began—there was a horror in the catacombs. Five students, found at dawn, ritually disemboweled, their blood drained into sigils carved in the stone floor. Throats torn open, organs arranged like offerings—grotesque, deliberate. No footprints, no witnesses, just gore and silence. The council buried it to prevent panic, believing it unresolved, no justice, no answers." He paused, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "Your sigil might echo those patterns, but a planted cloth? That's a dangerous thread to pull."
Elias's jaw clenched, the image searing: crimson pools soaking stone, lifeless eyes, entrails splayed like a twisted altar. The academy's inner circle had orchestrated it for Umbrar research, a truth Alaric didn't know. Elias's ancient blood stirred, sensing a cover-up, but no name surfaced. "It's a lead," he said, voice tight, pocketing the cloth. "I'll start with students, then the archives and catacombs. Someone's hiding something."
Alaric nodded, his gaze heavy. "Be careful, Varnholt. The academy doesn't forgive those who pry too deep." Elias smirked, his resolve unshaken, his power thrumming beneath a calm exterior, ready to unravel the dark.
Interrogation 1: Courtyard
In the courtyard, under a sky bruised with gray clouds, Elias approached a nervous first-year student, her hands fidgeting with a tattered scarf, her eyes darting to the looming spires. The air was thick with wet stone and dying leaves. "Got a minute?" Elias asked, his voice smooth but firm, deep blue eyes piercing. "I'm Elias Varnholt, investigating Shiro's attack. Seen anything odd around campus? Late-night visitors, strange shadows?"
The girl swallowed, her voice trembling. "I-I don't know much. Some students whisper about people sneaking into the archives after hours, but it's just rumors. Everyone's scared since Shiro." Her gaze dropped, offering nothing solid, but Elias noted the archive mention, his mind filing it away.
"Thanks," he said, flashing a disarming smile, though his eyes remained sharp. "Keep your ears open." The rumor was thin, but it pointed to the archives, a thread to tug.
Interrogation 2: Library
In the library, candlelight flickered across towering shelves, the air heavy with old leather and ink. Elias cornered a cocky mage apprentice, his robes too pristine, his grin too wide. "Elias Varnholt," he said, voice low, leaning against a table, his presence commanding. "Shiro's attack. You're a mage, you notice things. Anyone acting off? Maybe near the catacombs?"
The apprentice shrugged, bravado masking unease. "Catacombs? Creepy place, man. Saw a cloaked figure there last week, skulking around, but didn't get a good look. Probably some idiot pulling a prank." He laughed, too loud, but Elias caught the flicker of fear in his eyes.
"Interesting," Elias said, his smile tight, mind racing. A cloaked figure wasn't much, but it hinted at someone—or something—lurking. "Let me know if that 'idiot' shows up again." He turned, the catacombs now a priority.
Kaname-Yuki Scene 1: Courtyard
Yuki strode into the courtyard, the sky bruised with gray clouds, the air thick with wet stone and dying leaves. Kaname waited by a crumbling fountain, his obsidian-black hair—polished onyx—catching the dim light, green eyes softening as he saw her. "Yuki," he called, voice low, stepping closer, his cloak brushing the gravel. "You look beat. How's the council work going?"
She grinned, teasing despite her unease. "Better than your mood, grumpy. What's got you lurking out here? Miss me already?" Her pendant pulsed, shard-sense stirring as she leaned against the fountain.
Kaname's lips twitched, but his eyes flicked to the spires, worry etched in his frown. "Shiro's stabilizing, but it's bad, Yuki. Blood drained, like Liora's. The mission's getting messier, and now this investigator—Elias—shows up, sniffing around. You met him yet?"
Her smile faded, her upcoming archive meeting with Kazuyoshi on her mind. "Not yet, but I'm meeting Kazuyoshi in the archives soon. He's been really off, Kaname—I'm worried he's pushing too hard." She paused, catching Kaname's tense jaw, his protectiveness surfacing. "You jealous some investigator's gonna steal my focus?"
He snorted, crossing his arms, a flicker of jealousy betrayed by his scowl. "Hardly. Just don't trust anyone right now. Stick close, okay? I'm not losing you to this mess." His voice softened, a rare vulnerability, and Yuki's heart warmed, her teasing grin returning as she nudged his shoulder, their bond a steady anchor.
Yuki's POV: A Sharpening Gaze
Yuki stood in the archive room, candlelight flickering across dusty shelves, the air thick with wax, ink, and a leaking pipe's drip. Her pendant's turquoise glow pulsed against her chest, shard-sense humming like a restless tide, stirring unease that coiled in her gut, tied to the mission's growing danger. Kazuyoshi's state worried her more—he stood across the table, pale as death, crimson eyes avoiding hers, hands trembling as he shuffled scrolls, his usual calm replaced by a shaky unease. She chalked it up to stress or illness, her concern deepening as she watched him fumble a scroll, his breath uneven.
"Kazuyoshi, you look like you haven't slept in days," she said, voice soft with worry, standing steady beside the table. "What's going on? You're shaking like a leaf. You sick or something? We can take a break, y'know—the council stuff can wait."
He stiffened, his fingers pausing on a scroll, his voice low, strained. "Just feeling rough, Yuki. Long night with these scrolls." His crimson eyes flicked to the candle, avoiding her gaze, a bead of sweat on his brow. The air felt heavier, her shard-sense flaring, but she saw no reason to doubt him.
She tilted her head, turquoise eyes softening with concern. "Tired, huh? You're not fooling me—you look half-dead. C'mon, we're a team. If you're not okay, just say so. I can grab some tea or drag a healer in here." Her voice was warm, teasing, but her pendant pulsed, urging her to stay vigilant, though her trust in Kazuyoshi held firm.
Kazuyoshi forced a weak smile, his hands twitching. "Appreciate it, but it's just fatigue. Let's focus on the scrolls, okay? Council's breathing down our necks." His deflection was shaky, but Yuki nodded, her worry lingering, unaware of the danger beneath his mask.
Kazuyoshi's POV: A Fragile Mask
Kazuyoshi's heart pounded, the hunger gnawing at his core, Yuki's scent—coppery, warm, alive—threatening to shatter his control. The archive's dim light cast her turquoise eyes in sharp relief, her concern cutting through him like a blade, though her trust held firm. Her questions about his health hit too close, the memory of her blood saving him months ago a torment he couldn't shake. He gripped the table, nails digging into wood, fighting the urge to bolt. "Just fatigue," he repeated, voice barely steady, crimson eyes fixed on the candle to avoid her gaze. He needed to deflect, to keep Yuki's trust, or his plans for the shard and Seraphina would crumble, exposing the monster beneath.
Elias's Interruption
"Got a minute?" a voice called, calm and friendly, as Elias Varnholt stepped into the archive, his deep blue eyes scanning the room with a disarming smile. "Elias Varnholt, just poking around for some answers about Shiro's attack. Archives seem like a good place to catch campus whispers." He leaned casually against a shelf, pulling a blood-soaked cloth from his pocket to adjust it, the faint sigil barely visible. The coppery scent hit Kazuyoshi like a blade—his own blood, unmistakable, sending a jolt of fear through him, his plans teetering on exposure. Elias's gaze lingered on him briefly, sharp but not accusing, before turning to Yuki. "You two on the council, right? Heard anything odd lately? Strange visitors, maybe?"
Kazuyoshi's breath caught, his hands trembling as he shoved them into his pockets, the scent of his blood on the cloth screaming danger. "Just the usual archive stuff," he said, voice tight, forcing a weak smile. His crimson eyes flicked to the floor, heart racing, the urge to act—secure the shard, silence Seraphina—surging to protect his secrets.
Yuki glanced at Elias, her turquoise eyes curious but unalarmed, her worry for Kazuyoshi lingering. "Yeah, it's pretty quiet here," she said, voice light, tossing her hair. "Just council work, y'know? Nothing juicy. You're really digging into this attack, huh?" Her pendant pulsed, shard-sense humming, but she saw no threat in Elias's casual tone.
Elias nodded, pocketing the cloth, his smile easy but his eyes sharp, catching Kazuyoshi's unease. "Just covering my bases. Campus is full of shadows these days. Keep your ears open, alright?" He stepped back, mind noting Kazuyoshi's reaction—a thread to tug, though not enough to pin him yet.
Interrogation 3: Rin in the Courtyard
Outside, Elias crossed the courtyard, the air thick with wet stone and dying leaves, the sky bruised with clouds. He spotted a girl with chestnut curls bouncing as she hummed, kicking a pebble along the path. "Hey, got a second?" he called, voice warm but purposeful, deep blue eyes locking onto her brown ones. "I'm Elias Varnholt, investigating Shiro's attack. Mind if I get your name? I'm looking into the night Shiro was attacked—see anything strange around campus then?"
The girl grinned, bubbly and unbothered, brushing curls from her face. "I'm Rin! Hmm, that night? Campus was super creepy, but yeah, I saw something weird before I ran into my friend. There was this strange girl I didn't recognize, skulking near the west path where Shiro got hit. Dark hair, maybe, moving all sneaky-like, but I didn't get a good look. Then I bumped into Kazuyoshi, dragged him to the store by the gate for feverfew and moonroot—my aunt swears by 'em for stress. He was totally out of it, poor guy, but we were there, like, forever." She laughed, oblivious to the weight of her words, her sincerity clear.
Elias's brow furrowed, Rin's alibi for Kazuyoshi throwing a wrench in his suspicions about the archive keeper's unease, while the mention of the strange girl sparked a new lead. "A girl near the west path, huh? And the store by the gate? Good to know," he said, his smile tight, mind racing. Rin's story checked out, her casual honesty hard to doubt, but Kazuyoshi's reaction to the cloth lingered, and the mysterious girl added a new thread. "Thanks, Rin. Keep an eye out." He turned, the alibi and new detail clouding his trail but not erasing it.
Shiro's POV: A Faint Awakening
In the hospital wing, Shiro's world softened, white stone walls less oppressive as her strength crept back, though her violet eyes remained haunted, flickering under enchanted orbs casting jagged shadows. The runic monitor's beeps steadied, syncing with her fragile heartbeat, her neck bandages lighter, the gauze no longer biting. The air was sharp with antiseptic herbs, undercut by a metallic tang—her blood, lingering in her senses, a reminder of the attack she couldn't recall. Her mind was a void, fragments flickering: cold mist coiling, a sharp sting at her neck, a shadowed figure blurring into darkness. No clear form, no familiar shadow—only pain, coiling mist, and a nameless dread that lingered.
Her fingers grazed her rune-carved pendant, its surface warm, its turquoise glow pulsing faintly, whispering secrets she couldn't hear. The sensation stirred unease, tying her to the Umbrae's essence in the academy's foundations. She shifted, wincing, the thin sheet slipping against her clammy skin, the bed creaking. A healer, gray hair pulled tight, checked her chart, her flinty eyes softening. "You're stabilizing, Miss Shiro," she said, voice clipped but kind. "A miracle, given the blood loss. Near exsanguination—you shouldn't be here."
Shiro nodded weakly, throat too raw for words, the praise hollow against the dread in her gut. The pendant's pulse grew insistent, stirring memories that refused to form. The shadows shifted, nameless but heavy, her recovery a fragile step in a darkening world.
Kaname's POV: A Storm Breaks
Kaname stood on the academy's ramparts, obsidian-black hair—polished onyx—gleaming under flickering torchlight, strands whipping in the wind as dusk bled into a stormy night, clouds churning like ink, lightning flickering. His green eyes scanned the forest, where gnarled trees loomed like skeletal claws. Scrolls and The Book of Life weighed in his cloak, Umbrae's warnings and a vague traitor burning like embers. Shiro's recovery was a faint light, but her attack—blood drained, like Liora's—screamed of a threat tied to their mission, not allies like Kazuyoshi, whose curse-breaking aid held firm. Elias's investigation was a growing danger, too close to their secrets, but Kaname's thoughts were on Yuki, her turquoise eyes and fierce dedication a fire he both admired and feared losing.
Kaname-Yuki Scene 2: Wraith Attack
A scream tore through the night, sharp and raw, followed by a guttural hum that vibrated in his bones. Shadows surged beyond the outer wards—shadow wraiths, ethereal forms with hollow eyes and claws dripping black ichor, swarming from the forest. The Order of the Shattered Veil had breached the defenses, their attack brutal, distinct from the Crimson Exiles framing Kazuyoshi. Kaname sprinted down the ramparts' steps, boots slipping on moss, heart pounding as he reached Yuki's dorm. He burst in, finding her cornered by a wraith, its claws slashing as she hurled a glowing shard-bolt, her pendant flaring. "Yuki!" he shouted, drawing a fire rune, its blaze scattering the wraith's form.
"Nice timing!" Yuki gasped, darting forward with agility, her shard-sense guiding her next bolt, which pinned the wraith to the wall. Kaname grabbed her arm, pulling her behind him, his green eyes fierce with protectiveness. "Stay close," he said, voice steady despite the chaos, their teamwork seamless as they drove the wraith back, its form dissolving. Yuki's grin was shaky but defiant. "Not going anywhere, Kaname. Let's finish this." Their bond held firm, a beacon in the storm.
Third-Person POV: A Disaster Looms
Shadow wraiths flooded the courtyard, their forms flickering like smoke, hollow eyes glowing as they fed on fear, claws dripping ichor that hissed against the cobblestones. A second-year student stumbled, her spell fizzling as a wraith raked her leg, blood pooling, her scream echoing. A professor hurled a fire rune, scattering a wraith, but more surged, slashing stone and flesh. The Order of the Shattered Veil watched from the forest, their cloaked leader chanting in an ancient tongue, sustaining the assault to seize Umbrar's power.
The Crimson Exiles, hidden deeper, observed, their knowledge of the academy's catacombs murders (committed by the academy's inner circle) fueling their covert war. They had planted the cloth with Kazuyoshi's blood, framing him to expose the academy's sins, their motives veiled. The wards, weakened by Kazuyoshi's rituals, buckled under the Order's attack, a coincidence exploited by the Crimson Exiles. As spells lit the night, a healer dragged an injured mage to safety, blood smearing the stones, while a wardstone shattered, its fragments fading. The attack was the spark of a disaster, its roots hidden, deepened by the Crimson Exiles' unseen hand and the Order's assault.
Elias's POV (Continued): Investigation and Conclusion
Investigation Scene 1: Catacombs
Elias descended into the catacombs, torchlight flickering across damp, crumbling walls, the air heavy with rot and ancient stone. His ancient blood hummed, sensing faint traces of blood magic, a sickly pulse prickling his skin. Kneeling by a cracked stone slab, he found a hidden rune—not on cloth, but etched faintly into the stone, its edges smoothed by time, as if someone tried to erase it. The rune's design echoed the cloth's sigil, but its placement suggested a hidden hand watching the academy, not just one killer. His fingers traced the stone, his power flaring, confirming the magic's age—older than Shiro's attack, tied to the catacombs' murders. "Someone's been here," he muttered, his resolve hardening, undaunted by the darkness.
Investigation Scene 2: Archive's Restricted Section
In the archive's restricted section, Elias navigated towering shelves, their forbidden tomes locked behind wards. His lineage let him sense a faint magical residue—disturbed dust, a ward tampered with, as if someone accessed texts on blood magic. A single page, torn and tucked behind a shelf, bore a smudged sigil, its ink still faintly warm. "Not the archive keeper's work," Elias mused, his sharp mind piecing together perhaps a hidden group moving in the shadows. His power thrummed, a quiet strength that made him untouchable, ready to face any threat.
Conclusion: The Note
Elias returned to the catacombs, his torch casting long shadows across the damp stone, his ancient blood thrumming as he traced the hidden rune from earlier. His fingers brushed a crevice, finding a folded parchment and a small, silver archive key engraved with "k" , lost during his recent trip away from the archives. The note, written in jagged script, read: "The Crimson Exiles watch. Beware of the crimson red eyes beast. As well as the blood you hold leads to secrets you weren't meant to find. Pursue them at your peril—death waits for all who seek the truth." Elias chuckled, his confidence unshaken, the note a challenge in his game of truth. "Dramatic, but I'll play," he muttered, pocketing the key and note, his deep blue eyes glinting with resolve. His power, tied to an ancient mage bloodline stronger than anyone's he's ever met, made him a formidable pursuer of secrets, though the Crimson Exiles' warning hinted at dangers even he couldn't foresee.