The academy grounds felt different at night.
During the day, they were filled with voices, laughter, and the thunderous roars of beasts clashing in training arenas. But now, beneath the pale glow of twin moons, everything stood still. Wind brushed against the ancient stone walls, rustling the leaves of towering spirit oaks that lined the central plaza. Somewhere in the distance, an owl beast hooted—a deep, unnatural tone that made Aren's skin crawl.
He shifted under his blanket, turning to face Sharu. The little silver-furred creature lay curled at the foot of his bed, eyes shut but clearly not asleep. His ears twitched at every sound, and his tail flicked irritably.
"You sense it too, don't you?" Aren whispered.
Sharu didn't respond—he never spoke, not yet—but Aren could feel it. A subtle tingle in the bond they shared. A warning. Something unnatural was nearby.
The past few days had been uneventful on the surface. He had met his roommates and a few other students. The competitive atmosphere was beginning to settle, and Aren had even exchanged awkward greetings with Liora and Dorian during shared lectures. Yet underneath the daily routine, something had begun to gnaw at him.
Strange things happened after dark.
Beasts refusing food. Students waking up in cold sweats. Unseen footsteps echoing down the corridors. One boy, a second-year, had collapsed during training and was taken to the infirmary, muttering about "shadows in the walls" before falling unconscious.
Most people brushed it off as nerves or exhaustion. But Aren knew better.
It wasn't nerves.
That night, sleep didn't come.
When the tower bells rang midnight, Aren sat up, heart beating fast. He couldn't explain why—only that he felt drawn to something. A call. Not spoken aloud, but pressed into his mind like the whisper of a memory.
Sharu stirred, uncoiling gracefully from his spot. He didn't look at Aren, but hopped down from the bed and padded silently toward the door. Aren grabbed his coat, slipped on his boots, and followed.
The academy halls were quiet but not empty. Faint candlelight flickered along the stone walls, casting elongated shadows. Sharu led the way, his small paws silent on the floor. Aren followed, heart thudding, as they turned corners, descended staircases, and passed wings of the academy he hadn't yet explored.
They reached a spiral stairwell that descended beneath the main training halls. Aren had never seen it before.
"Should we…?" he hesitated, but Sharu had already begun climbing down.
The stairwell felt colder with every step. The stones were older here—weathered, cracked, and laced with vines. At the bottom was a wooden door bound in rusted iron. Aren reached for the handle.
It opened with a loud groan.
The room beyond was vast and circular, lined with crumbling stone pillars. Broken chains hung from the ceiling. In the center was a raised platform surrounded by scorched symbols on the floor. The air smelled of dust and something foul—like decayed mana.
Sharu froze, his fur bristling.
Aren stepped closer, cautiously. As he reached the edge of the platform, something flickered—an image? A shadow?—and was gone.
The symbols on the floor pulsed faintly with violet light.
He suddenly felt dizzy.
Something terrible had once happened here.
He turned toward Sharu, who was glaring at the platform with narrowed blue eyes, tail low and stiff. The air felt heavier, the bond between them throbbing in warning.
"Sharu…" Aren whispered, but the beast didn't move.
Then, a low sound echoed from the far side of the chamber.
Not footsteps—scraping. Like claws against stone.
Aren spun around, but saw nothing. No movement, no shape. Only darkness pressing in from the edges. Then another sound, closer this time—whispers. Not words, just breathless muttering from every direction.
He backed up, hand on Sharu's back.
A gust of air rushed past him, extinguishing the torches in the stairwell above.
Darkness swallowed the room.
And for a moment—only a second—Aren saw it.
A figure in the center of the platform, draped in shadows. No face. No eyes. Only a long, clawed hand pointing directly at him.
Then it vanished.
The torches relit themselves, one by one.
Aren was shaking. His breath came fast, his limbs frozen. Sharu stepped in front of him, placing one paw against his leg, as if steadying him.
"What was that?" Aren whispered.
Sharu didn't respond.
---
They returned to their dorm in silence. Aren locked the door behind them, heart still racing.
Whatever that was, it wasn't natural.
He sat on his bed, mind spinning. Was that a remnant of corrupted energy? A sealed beast? A memory? He didn't know. But it was buried under the academy—and no one had warned them.
Sharu leapt up beside him and gave him a long, slow look. His eyes were serious now. Not mocking, not distant.
Just… watchful.
"Why didn't you stop me?" Aren asked softly.
Sharu blinked.
Then turned his head away.
---
The next morning brought warmth and noise once again. Students bustled across the training fields. Beasts stretched their limbs in the sunlight. The strange events of the night were buried under routine.
But Aren couldn't forget.
Not the whispers. Not the shadow. Not the feeling of being watched.
He would find answers—but not yet. For now, he'd train, observe, and wait.
He had a month until the tournament. A month to grow stronger.
And something told him… he'd need every second of it.