Chapter 115

Chapter 115: Chapter 115

Across the training ground, the Silvermoon students were finding their own squads. Mira Voss, the healer who had faced Finn in the combat exhibition, was assigned to the same squad as Maureen and Celeste Ashbourne. Sera Voss, her younger cousin, was in a different group. Petra Ironwood, the formidable senior who had faced Marek, had been made a squad leader.

Selene’s friends Celeste and Mira moved through the crowd with their heads held high, but there was a tension in their posture that hadn’t been there before the showcase. Their leader was gone, returned to Silvermoon in the aftermath of the tragedy. They were adrift without her.

"Have you heard from Selene?" Mira asked quietly as they walked toward their assigned training circle.

"No," Celeste said. "Not since she left. She’s not responding to letters."

"Do you think she’s alright?"

"I think she’s processing. The same as all of us." Celeste’s green eyes flickered. "She was there when the arrow hit. She saw him die. That kind of thing changes a person."

Mira nodded slowly. "Do you think she really loved him? Soren, I mean. I know the betrothal was political, but—"

"I don’t know what she felt. But I know she’s hurting. And I know she blames the Astrlyn girl for everything."

"Nyra," Mira said. "Her name is Nyra."

"Whatever her name is, she’s the reason we’re in this mess. She’s the reason the prince is dead. She’s the reason the realm is falling apart." Celeste’s jaw tightened. "And if I ever see her again, I’ll give her a piece of my mind.

Valeria stood at the edge of the training grounds, watching the students mill about with the dispassionate gaze of someone who had stopped caring weeks ago.

She was still a senior lecturer. She was still expected to teach, to lead, to set an example. But the fire that had once burned so brightly within her had been extinguished on the night of the showcase. Soren was dead. Her schemes had come to nothing. And the woman she had tried to destroy was still out there somewhere, alive, while the man she had loved rotted in the ground.

Get a hold of yourself, Lila murmured in her mind. You’re better than this.

"Am I?" Valeria muttered under her breath. "I don’t feel better. I feel hollow."

Then use the hollow. Use the emptiness. Let it make you stronger.

Valeria didn’t answer. She just stood there, a shadow of her former self, watching the students who still had hope. Still had purpose. Still had something to fight for.

Miles away, in the depths of the Astrlyn pack’s territory, Lord Varek sat in his private chamber, a map spread before him. The guard who had reported to him earlier was gone, dismissed with threats and promises. A new guard had taken his place—a more competent one, Varek hoped.

"Report," Varek said.

"My lord, our trackers have found traces of someone living in the deep forest. A hut, hidden far from the main paths. There are signs of recent occupation."

Varek’s eyes glittered. "The girl?"

"It’s possible. The location is remote enough that no one would think to look there."

"Then send a team. Immediately. I want her captured and brought to me before the week is out." Varek leaned back in his chair, a cold smile spreading across his face. "My dear niece has been hiding long enough. It’s time she faced justice."

The guard bowed and left.

Varek stared at the map, his fingers tracing the route to the deep forest.

Soon, he thought. Soon, you’ll be mine. And all that power all that Moonblood magic will serve me.

The potions laboratory was cold and dark, lit only by the faint glow of moonflowers in their glass jars. Corvin sat at his worktable, surrounded by scattered notes and half-empty vials, his whiskey-dark eyes fixed on the evidence board he had constructed on the wall before him.

It was a chaotic thing a web of names and arrows and question marks, scraps of parchment pinned together with rusted tacks. At the center of the web was Nyra’s name. Branching out from her were the key players from the night of the showcase: the student who had accused her. The maid, Hellen, who had betrayed her. Lord Varek, who had wept fake tears and called for her execution. Selene, who had orchestrated the pageantry that set the stage. Killian, who had been watching from the shadows. Xavier. Nikolai. The unknown archer who had fired the arrow.

So many threads. So many suspects. And not a single piece of solid evidence connecting any of them to the crime.

Lucian entered the laboratory without knocking, as he always did. He stopped when he saw the evidence board, his eyebrows rising.

"You’ve been at this for weeks," he said, settling onto a stool near the door. "Have you slept at all?"

"Sleep is for people who don’t have assassins to catch." Corvin didn’t look up from his notes.

"Have you found anything?"

Corvin’s jaw tightened. "Nothing. Every lead I follow dead-ends. The student who accused Nyra has disappeared—the guards say he escaped during the chaos of that night, but I suspect someone silenced him. The maid, Hellen, has vanished back into the Astrlyn pack’s territory, where Varek is protecting her. The arrow that killed Soren was fired from somewhere in the upper gallery, but there were too many people there that night, and no one saw anything."

"What about the poison? The Nightshade Essence?"

"That’s the most frustrating part." Corvin finally looked up, his expression dark. "I know the poison was brewed recently. I can tell from the residue. Whoever made it had access to rare ingredients and advanced alchemical knowledge. But that narrows it down to half the senior potions students and a dozen instructors. Without more evidence, I can’t prove anything."

Lucian was quiet for a moment. "You suspect someone."

"I suspect everyone." Corvin turned back to the board. "Killian Drak has been acting strangely. He was asking too many questions before the showcase. He was watching me following me. And when I asked him about the missing ingredients, he panicked. I saw it in his eyes."

"Then why haven’t you accused him?"

"Because suspicion isn’t proof. Because if I accuse him and I’m wrong, the real killer will know I’m onto them. And because—" He paused. "Because I don’t think he acted alone. Someone orchestrated this. Someone with power and resources and a grudge against Nyra. Killian is a pawn. I need to find the hand that moved him."

"Selene," Lucian said. "Or Valeria."

"Or Varek. Or someone we haven’t even considered." Corvin rubbed his tired eyes. "I won’t give up, Lucian. I can’t. Nyra is depending on me. Soren—" His voice caught on the name. "Soren deserves justice. Whatever our differences were, he was my friend. My brother. And whoever killed him is going to pay."

Lucian stood and placed a hand on Corvin’s shoulder. "We’ll find them. Whoever did this, we’ll find them."

Corvin nodded, but his eyes were still fixed on the evidence board—on the empty spaces where answers should have been.

The forest was dark and silent as the group moved through the trees.

Ragnar led the way, his axe strapped to his back, his scarred face illuminated by the faint glow of the lantern he carried. Finn walked beside him, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Marek brought up the rear, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. And Roderic moved through the underbrush with the practiced silence of someone who had spent years tracking threats through wilderness.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Finn whispered. "Wandering around the forest in the middle of the night, looking for evidence that might not even exist?"

"We have to do something," Ragnar said. "The official investigation is going nowhere. Corvin is working on his own, but he won’t share what he’s found. If we want answers, we have to find them ourselves."

"But what exactly are we looking for?"

Roderic spoke for the first time. "Traces. The archer who fired the arrow had to have been positioned somewhere with a clear line of sight to the stage. That means the upper gallery, or the roof, or one of the towers. If they left anything behind—footprints, a scrap of fabric, a discarded arrow—it might still be there."

"That was a month ago," Finn pointed out. "Anything they left would have been washed away by rain or found by the guards by now."

"Probably," Roderic agreed. "But probably isn’t certainly. And certainty is what we need."

They continued through the forest, skirting the edge of the academy grounds. The moon was high overhead, casting silver light through the canopy. In the distance, an owl hooted. Somewhere closer, a branch snapped, and they all tensed but it was only a deer, bounding away through the underbrush.

They did not go near the deep forest. They did not discover the hut, or the woman hiding within it. They remained on the outskirts, searching the perimeter, looking for anything the official investigation might have missed.

After two hours, they found nothing.

"We should head back," Ragnar said, his voice heavy with frustration. "It’s too dark to search properly, and we’re not going to find anything tonight."

"Tomorrow, then," Finn said. "We try again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Ragnar agreed.

They turned and began the long walk back to the academy, their lanterns bobbing through the darkness like distant stars.