The assassin moved like liquid shadow.
One moment outside, the next leaping through the shattered window with barely a sound.
Rayan didn't think — he reacted.
"The Law of Unseen Chains!"
Invisible threads snapped into existence, wrapping around the attacker's arm mid-swing. The dagger halted an inch from Rayan's throat. But the assassin was fast — too fast. With a jerk, the threads tore apart like brittle string.
So they can break it…
The man lunged again. Rayan dove sideways, feeling the dagger slice through the air where his neck had been. His Earth-trained instincts screamed: Don't match speed — control the environment.
He grabbed the candle on his desk and hurled it at the curtains. Flames leapt up instantly, filling the room with smoke and light. The assassin flinched — not from the fire, but from the sudden brightness.
"Light-sensitive…" Rayan realized. Noted.
⸻
The assassin recovered, charging again. Rayan whispered the Chains spell — not at the man, but at the falling glass shards from the broken window.
Mid-air, the shards froze. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he sent them whipping toward the intruder like a hailstorm of knives.
The assassin staggered back, cloak slashed and bleeding from the arm.
"Not… possible," the man growled.
From somewhere deep in the Grimoire, words pulsed into Rayan's mind:
Chain not the flesh… chain the shadow.
Rayan's eyes widened. He didn't understand — until he noticed it:
The assassin's shadow was moving independently.
⸻
He focused, speaking the incantation again — but this time, aiming at the shadow stretched across the floor.
The threads lashed out, binding it tight.
The assassin froze in place, eyes widening in horror. No matter how his body struggled, his own shadow pinned him down.
"Who sent you?" Rayan demanded.
The man's answer was a hiss. "The Vessel must not reach the Academy."
And then, before Rayan could react, the assassin bit down on something in his mouth — a crunch, a hiss of smoke — and his body crumbled into ash.
⸻
Rayan stood alone in the room, smoke from the curtains mixing with the strange dust on the floor.
The Grimoire's pages flipped on their own.
Page 3 began to write itself:
If one comes for you, more will follow. Trust no crest. Trust no crown.
Far away, bells began to ring from the Valcrest watchtower — the signal for an intruder. But Rayan knew no guards would find anything.
Because his enemies weren't ordinary people.