The projection vanished, the glow disappearing into nothingness. The silence it left behind was heavier than before.

  I didn’t hesitate. I raised my hand.

  Orion didn’t even glance up. He just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Naturally,” he muttered. “Of course she has questions.”

  I stood anyway. “If the bond is so powerful,” I asked, my voice clear, “why didn’t it save Elysia Arrowhead?”

  The room held its breath.

  Orion’s gaze met mine. For the briefest second, something cracked in his expression. Then it was gone—replaced by practiced calm.

  “Elysia’s death is under review,” he said, voice carefully neutral. “Her sacrifice is honored. Her memory mourned.”

  It sounded rehearsed. Hollow. Like something he’d said too many times to too many people.

  And it only made me want to know more.

  A low wave of murmurs stirred through the class like static—discontented, unsettled.

  I couldn’t let it pass this time.

  “There are technologies,” I said, voice even but unshaken, “capable of tracing moon rock origins and locating people halfway across the world. Yet we’re told nothing about how Elysia died? We’re all being considered for the same position she held. Doesn’t that make us all potential targets?”

  Orion didn’t flinch, but his answer was intentionally vague. “Investigations are handled by designated authorities,” he replied, calm but clipped. “Your priority should be training, not chasing shadows.”

  I leaned forward slightly. “With all due respect, Commander, transparency is foundational to any role built on trust. How can you expect us to serve if we’re left in the dark?”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “This isn’t a debate, Elara. Stay in your lane. Guardians follow orders.”

  The weight of his words was meant to silence me. It didn’t. If anything, it hardened my resolve.

  “Someone was murdered,” I said, louder this time. “One of us. Don’t we deserve to know how? Where? Why her Stone didn’t protect her? If this place has been compromised?”

  A flicker of impatience crossed his face. “Enough, Elara,” Orion snapped. “Being Kennyth Browne’s granddaughter doesn’t entitle you to full access. There are things beyond your clearance—and your understanding. This conversation is finished. Dismissed.”

  The words were final, but they weren’t satisfying. I stayed rooted in place.

  “Or do you not know either?” I asked quietly. “Is that why you won’t answer?”

  The tension grew razor-sharp as the other students trickled out, casting glances over their shoulders. Orion gestured sharply, signaling for me to stay behind. As the doors closed and the last footsteps faded, silence fell like a curtain.

  “Elara.” His tone dropped an octave, weariness woven into it. “You’re playing with fire. There are things you don’t yet grasp. Curiosity like yours—it’s not always safe.”

  I didn’t back down. “Why? Because I ask questions?”

  “No,” he said. “Because you’re still new. You just unlocked your abilities. You still think cereal counts as a full meal.”

  “We deserve answers,” I insisted. “Elysia deserved better.”

  His expression darkened. “Don’t question my loyalty to my team. I was there. I bled with them. You weren’t raised in this. You don’t know what it means to lose a comrade.”

  I swallowed hard. “Maybe not. But I know Hideo Toru cared more than you think. He lost his brother. And he’s still standing.”

  Orion’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “Toru’s brother died in the war. If you want to know what really happened to Ryon, then you’d better ask Hideo yourself.”

  “Too many Guardians are dying,” I said quietly, the words heavier than I expected. “And they shouldn’t be. I want to know if it’s connected—if someone’s hiding something.”

  Orion’s face shifted. Just for a moment. Not anger. Not authority. Something almost human. The flicker of guilt? Of sorrow? But it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

  “There are truths you’re not ready for,” he said at last, voice low, laced with something I couldn’t name. “And some truths carry consequences you can’t imagine.”

  Before I could challenge him again, he waved a hand—dismissing me like I was nothing more than a disobedient student.

  “Go, Elara,” he said. “Before your curiosity leads you somewhere you can’t come back from.”

  I opened my mouth to argue.

  To defy.

  To demand more.

  But I stopped myself.

  So instead, I just said, “Never thought I’d live to see the day the great Leo Guardian turned out to be a coward.”

  I didn’t stay to see how the words landed. I turned on my heel and walked out, frustration simmering in my chest.

  I still didn’t know what happened to Elysia.

  And worse—I had no idea where to begin.

  Twenty-Eight

  The dining hall buzzed around me—laughter, clinking silverware, the soft echo of conversation bouncing off the stone walls. But none of it touched the tight coil of frustration winding in my chest. Across from me, Vespera looked effortlessly composed, her dark curls falling in perfect waves as she sipped from her glass like she belonged in a painting. Her eyes were on me—calm, expectant—waiting for me to speak.

  I jabbed at my food a little too aggressively, my appetite already gone. “He’s insufferable,” I muttered, barely containing the scowl tugging at my mouth. “I can’t stand Orion Blaze.”

  Vespera arched a brow, elegant as always. Her hazel eyes sparkled, amused but not unkind. She set her glass down, fingers delicate against the stem. “What did he do this time?”

  I exhaled sharply, gripping my fork like it was responsible for all my problems. “He’s just… unbearable. He struts around like he owns the place. Talks down to everyone, like we’re lucky to even breathe the same air as him.”

  Vespera made a soft sound of agreement, the corner of her mouth tilting in a knowing smirk. “He does carry himself like the sun rises and sets with him. Leo energy, through and through.” Her gaze danced with mischief. “Not that it stops half the girls from swooning every time he so much as stretches.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. They don’t see the way he needles people. It’s like he enjoys making others feel smaller than him.”

  I paused, stomach twisting, not with hunger but something closer to helpless fury. “And I get it—he’s a Guardian. He doesn’t owe us anything. But the way he shut me down when I asked about the last Sagittarius Guardian?” I shook my head. “We’re risking everything for a title we barely understand. We deserve to know what we’re walking into. This isn’t just a game.”

  Vespera’s expression softened. “You’re right. But don’t let him steal your fire, Elara. That’s exactly what someone like him wants—to get under your skin, make you second-guess yourself.”

  I stared down at my plate, the food now a blur. “I wish I could just tell him off. Just once. Let him know he’s not as untouchable as he thinks.”

  Her quiet laugh made me look up. “Tempting, sure. But maybe save it for when you’re not trying to become a Guardian under his command. He’s not exactly known for being receptive to criticism.”

  “Unfortunately.” I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “Dealing with him makes everything feel heavier.”

  “You’re not the only one who feels that way,” she reminded me gently. “And hey—this journey? It’s about you. Not him. Don’t let his ego throw you off course.”

  A small smile tugged at my lips despite myself. “Thanks, Vespera.”

  She raised her glass with a wink. “To surviving the company of insufferable Guardians.”

  We clinked our glasses—Vespera’s filled with something sparkling, mine with water that suddenly tasted a little less refreshing. For a fleeting moment, her smile and the warm chatter of the dining hall softened the ache in my chest. The scent of roasted vegetables, spiced meat, and freshly baked bread filled the air. The clatter of cutlery, the hum of laughter, and the golden glow of lanterns strung above us should’ve made me feel at home.

  And then, of course, he showed up.

  “Elara Hawthorne. Come with me.”

  I froze. My hand, still wrapped around the cool glass stem, hovered midair. I turned slowly toward the voice, my pulse quickening before I even saw his face.

  Orion Blaze.

  His tone wasn’t angry—but it was authoritative. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

  “For what?” I asked, brows lifting.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You dare question me?”

  My stomach tightened. “You can’t give me a detention for no reason.”

  “I can give you a detention for whatever reason I want,” he replied. “Why don’t we start with you showing up late today?”

  That jab landed hard. My jaw clenched. He was watching me?

  “You’ve never given me detention before,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t just the surprise—it was the shift in tone. The change in him.

  “Well, you’re getting it now.”

  Vespera leaned forward, fiery as ever. “That’s not fair.”

  Orion’s head turned, slow and sharp. His eyes flicked to her like she was an afterthought. “Who asked you?”

  Typical.

  He looked back at me, already moving toward the exit like I was expected to follow without another word. And stupidly—stubbornly—I did.

  I pushed back my chair, ignoring the scrape of wood on stone. My legs were heavy, my body tense with disbelief. Vespera gave me a look that said don’t let him rattle you, but I couldn’t even fake a smile this time. I shrugged at her helplessly and turned to follow him, my thoughts spinning faster than my steps.

  I wasn’t scared.

  I was furious.

  Except… maybe there was a flicker of nerves too.

  Because Orion wasn’t leading me to the detention wing. He didn’t stop at the admin offices or the lecture halls. Instead, he passed the courtyard and walked straight toward the outer gates. Toward the forest.

  I paused. “Where are we going?”

  No answer.

  He didn’t even glance back.

  My boots crunched over wet leaves as I trailed him through the trees. The air smelled like petrichor and pine, thick with the hum of enchantments that always lingered near the Academy’s borders. The woods were beautiful—until they weren’t. At night, they whispered secrets. At night, they remembered things.

  My heartbeat was too loud in my ears.

  “This isn’t detention,” I said, trying to match his pace.

  Finally, Orion turned. His eyes glinted, catching the moonlight through the canopy.

  “Detention isn’t merely punishment,” he said. “It’s a chance to learn beyond the classroom.”

  I folded my arms. “And what am I supposed to learn out here?”

  He didn’t answer. Just kept walking.

  And like an idiot, I kept following.

  His words intrigued me, even as something in his voice made my skin prickle. There was tension buried under the surface—something he wasn’t saying, something hidden behind that maddening smirk and the strange glint in his eye. And whatever it was, I had a sinking feeling it had nothing to do with detention.

  We walked in silence, the forest thickening around us with every step. The path twisted like it had a mind of its own, and somehow, Orion never hesitated. The trees seemed to lean in, their gnarled branches clawing at the fading light above us, casting shadows that flickered like ghosts.

  Then I noticed it—his hand. A soft golden glow pulsed from his palm, subtle but steady, lighting the ground in front of us with a faint halo. It illuminated the forest in patches, drawing strange silhouettes on the underbrush and tree trunks. I couldn’t help but stare. The magic shimmered like it was alive, like the forest was answering him.

  “You going to tell me what this is really about?” I finally asked. My voice came out softer than I wanted, more uncertain than bold.

  He glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “You asked for this.”

  I frowned. “Asked for what?”

  “To see the truth. To understand what it means to be a Guardian.” He paused, then added, “I’m here to show you how cowardly I truly am.”

  The forest quieted around us. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

  Cowardly? That word didn’t fit Orion Blaze. Not the arrogant, powerful Leo Guardian who carried himself like a general. Not the one who stood taller than most and always made sure you knew it.

  A shiver traced down my spine as I kept following him, curiosity and unease warring inside me. I had no idea what I’d stepped into—but I couldn’t turn back now.

  The trees began to thin, revealing an overgrown clearing choked with vines and moss. At the far end, a cave yawned wide, jagged and dark, like the mouth of some sleeping beast. The last of the daylight seemed to stop at its entrance, as if even the sun didn’t dare step inside.

  Orion slowed, then stopped completely, standing just before the threshold.

  “This,” he said quietly, “is where she was last seen.”

  I didn’t have to ask who. The name echoed in my mind like a ghost.

  Elysia.

  My chest tightened. I stepped closer, the air around the cave heavier somehow, laced with a damp chill and something older—something otherworldly. Moss clung to the rocks like skin. Water dripped from sharp stalactites above, each drop a soft but steady heartbeat in the silence.

  Inside, the cave shimmered faintly. Crystals clung to the walls, catching the faintest bits of light from Orion’s hand and scattering them in hues of blue and violet. Strange markings had been carved into the stone—ancient symbols I couldn’t read but felt down to my bones. It was like the walls themselves were telling a story in a language only the forest remembered.

  The deeper we looked, the more alive the cave felt. Patches of glowing fungi lined the floor in pulses of green and gold. Narrow tunnels snaked away into the dark, each one a possible path—and a warning. I could see now why no one came here. Why no one spoke of this place.

  Orion stood silent beside me, his gaze fixed ahead, but I could feel the weight of memory pressing against him. This place had scars. So did he.

  A shiver trailed down my spine as I stepped closer to the cave’s entrance, the air thick with memory. A sense of foreboding wrapped itself around me, clinging like mist to skin. Something about this place felt sacred and broken, like it had witnessed something it was still trying to forget. The stone beneath my boots hummed with old magic and older sorrow, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the cave itself was grieving.

  The silence stretched long between us, but Orion didn’t fill it. His stillness said everything. He wasn’t just standing there—he was tethered to this moment, this place. I watched his jaw tighten, his golden eyes clouded with something he wouldn’t name.

  Then he turned toward me, and for a flicker of a second, I saw something vulnerable behind the usual steel. “Elara, there’s more to this cave than meets the eye,” he said quietly. His voice wasn’t cold this time—it held weight, urgency. “Elysia’s disappearance was just the beginning. There are forces at play here that go beyond anything we understand.”

  I swallowed, hard. His words weren’t just speculation—they were a warning. And I felt it, too. The pull of this place. The ache of something left unfinished.

  Something in me shifted. The cave wasn’t just a location—it was a vault, holding answers I hadn’t even known I needed. And if Orion was right, Elysia’s vanishing wasn’t a fluke. It was a thread—and pulling it might unravel everything.

  He took a breath, then began. “When Elysia didn’t show up for the morning briefing, we checked her room. Her planner was still there—open to the date she disappeared. There was an entry… a meeting scheduled late that night.” He paused, as if weighing whether to say the next words aloud. Then, “It was with Hideo Toru.”

  The ground tilted under me.

  I stared at him, the name sinking into me like ice. “Toru?” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

  No. That didn’t make sense.

  He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was on a mission—had been for weeks. And if he was here… why meet with her?

  Orion nodded, slowly, watching me. “Elara, I know this isn’t easy to hear. But you have a connection to him. You’re… close. And we need to be honest about what that means.”

  My stomach twisted. I hated the way he said it. Careful. Condescending. Like I was fragile. Like I couldn’t separate truth from loyalty.

  “Elysia’s disappearance,” he continued, “it happened the same night they were supposed to meet. We have to consider every possibility.”

  The implication settled over us, suffocating in its silence.

  Toru. Involved?

  No. It wasn’t possible.

  My pulse pounded in my ears, hot and wild. “How dare you,” I snapped. “Toru is a Sentinel. He’s the best soldier we had in the Third War. He protected us—protected everyone. You think he’d just turn on us? On her?”

  My voice echoed, jagged against the stone walls.

  Orion didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue.

  “I understand your loyalty,” he said, too calmly, too gently. “But sometimes, loyalty blinds us. Hideo Toru isn’t who you think he is, Elara. There are things he’s kept hidden. Secrets that matter.”

  I wanted to scream. To punch the wall. To make him take it back. But a sliver of doubt slid beneath my ribs.

  Not because I believed him.

  But because I knew Toru had secrets.

  And now, I couldn’t help wondering if one of them had gotten Elysia killed.

  “I don’t believe you.” The words burst out of me, sharp and trembling. “He would never. You’re wrong about him.” My voice cracked on the last word, but I didn’t care. “I know him better than anyone. He can’t be involved in this.”