THE VOID BEAST

CHAPTER 15: THE LOCKET

Jace and I walked back to the dorm in silence. His fox padded beside us, its tail flicking nervously. The rabbit followed at my heels, her cloudy eyes watchful.

"You okay?" Jace asked as we reached the door.

"I don't know," I said. "I just... I need to think."

He nodded. "Alright. But promise me you'll get some rest. We can't train tomorrow if we're exhausted."

"I promise."

I didn't sleep.

---

In the middle of the night, when Jace's breathing had evened out and the others were deep in slumber, I slipped out of bed.

The rabbit stirred as I moved, her cloudy eyes following me. I placed a finger to my lips.

"Stay," I whispered. "I'll be back."

She didn't move. But her eyes tracked me as I crept toward the door.

The corridors were dark and silent. The only light came from the distant torches, casting long shadows across the stone floors. I moved quickly, keeping to the edges of the walls. I didn't have a clear destination—I just needed to move, to think, to process everything I'd learned.

Seventeen years ago. Someone from House Vex went into the mountains. Someone survived. And someone erased their name.

I rounded a corner—

And nearly collided with a figure in the darkness.

I stumbled back, my heart leaping into my throat. The figure was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing the uniform of a night guard. His lantern swung at his side, casting harsh light across his face.

"Hold it right there," the guard said. "You're out past curfew. What's your name?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came. My mind raced, searching for an excuse, a lie, anything. But I was frozen.

"Name," the guard repeated, his voice hardening.

"I—"

A familiar voice cut through the darkness from behind him.

"He's with me."

The guard turned. The old man stepped into the lantern light, his expression calm and unreadable.

"I asked him to help me sort some old records tonight," the old man continued. "Lost track of time. That's my fault."

The guard studied him for a moment. Then he nodded slowly.

"See that it doesn't happen again," he said. "Curfew is curfew for a reason."

"Of course," the old man said. "I'll make sure he gets back to his dorm."

The guard walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

The old man turned to me. "You really are predictable, young master."

I frowned. "You knew I'd be out here?"

"I know when someone has a question they refuse to leave unanswered." He studied me for a moment. "Follow me. We can't stay in the corridor."

---

He led me through a series of passages I hadn't seen before. The air grew cooler, the walls older. Finally, he stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

His office was small, cluttered with papers and books. A single candle flickered on a desk covered in maps and notes.

"Sit," he said.

I sat.

He moved to a shelf on the far wall, his fingers trailing across the spines of old books. He reached for one—then stopped. His hand hovered over the cover for a long moment.

I could see the conflict on his face. He wanted to help. But he was afraid of what I'd find.

Then he pulled it down anyway.

He placed it in front of me—a thick leather-bound tome with no title on the cover.

"These are the records of everyone who's entered the Northern Mountains in the past century," he said. "Some of them are incomplete. Some of them are missing entirely. But the ones that remain are... revealing."

I stared at the book. My hands were trembling.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked.

He was silent for a moment. Then he sat down across from me.

"Because you're the first person in years who's actually tried to do something about that rabbit," he said. "Most students would have given up. They would have accepted their fate. But you—" He shook his head. "You're different."

I didn't know what to say.

"Now," he said, sliding the book toward me, "you have until dawn. Read what you can. But you must not tell anyone about this—not even your friend Jace."

"Not even Jace?"

"Some secrets are too dangerous to share. And some people—" He paused. "—might be put in danger if they know too much."

I nodded slowly. Then I opened the book.

---

The records were fragmentary. Some pages were torn. Others were faded beyond reading. But slowly, I began to piece together the story.

The first expedition was led by a member of the Vex family. The name was scratched out, but I could still read the date. Seventeen years ago.

The expedition was looking for something. The records didn't say what, but they mentioned "a plant of interest" and "a region of unusual mana concentration."

I read further.

The expedition entered the mountains. They found the plant. But something went wrong. The records were vague—just a few lines about "unexpected opposition" and "beasts that did not behave as expected."

Then the return. Four dead. One survivor.

And the survivor's name had been erased.

I flipped through the book, searching for more. There were other expeditions, other records, but none of them had the same level of detail.

Then I found it.

A single line, written in the margin of a page, in handwriting that was different from the rest:

The Emberbloom is not the goal. It is the key.

I stared at the words. The Emberbloom is not the goal. It is the key. I didn't understand what it meant. But I knew I had to find out.

By the time dawn began to lighten the sky, I had read everything I could. My eyes were burning, my head was spinning, and my mind was full of questions.

The old man's breathing had evened out. He'd been exhausted when he brought me here—I could see it in the lines around his eyes. Now he was asleep.

I closed the book and stood up. I needed to return to the dorm before anyone noticed I was gone.

---

Morning light crept through the window. I hadn't slept at all.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The rabbit stirred beside me, her cloudy eyes blinking open.

"Morning," I whispered.

She twitched her ears.

Jace groaned from his cot, rolling over. Then he sat up, squinting at me. His eyes narrowed.

"Darian," he said slowly. "Did you sleep at all?"

"I slept."

"Your eyes are puffy," he said. "You look like you've been awake all night."

I opened my mouth to argue. But Jace was already shaking his head.

"Don't lie to me," he said. "I can tell when you're lying."

I looked away. "I was up late."

"Up late doing what?"

"Reading," I said. "The book on beast communication. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd study."

Jace stared at me. The silence stretched between us. I saw the hurt flash across his face—brief, but unmistakable.

"You're lying," he said quietly. "I'm not angry. I just... I thought we were past this. I thought we were friends."

"We are friends," I said quickly.

"Then why won't you tell me the truth?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him everything—about the expedition, the erased name, the date. But the old man's warning echoed in my head.

Some secrets are too dangerous to share. And some people might be put in danger if they know too much.

I couldn't put Jace in danger. I couldn't.

"I was studying," I said again. "That's all."

Jace studied me for a long moment. Then he sighed.

"Fine," he said. "If that's what you want to tell me, I'll believe it. But you know I don't, right?"

I didn't answer.

He stood up and started dressing. "We should get ready. Training starts soon."

---

The training grounds were already filling with students when we arrived. Jace was quiet, his fox padding beside him. I could feel the distance between us—the unspoken tension.

"Jace," I started.

He shook his head. "Not now, Darian."

I stopped.

Instructor Vasa was already at the center of the arena, her hawk circling above her. Her eyes swept the crowd.

"Today's exercise," she announced, "is the same as before. Partners will be assigned. Adapt. Survive."

She called out names. The matches began.

Two D-rank students I didn't recognize went first. Both were paired against C-rank opponents. Both lost quickly—one in seconds, the other after a brief struggle.

Then Jace was called.

His opponent was a C-rank student named Kaelen—a tall, broad-shouldered boy with a serpent coiled at his feet. The serpent's scales were a deep emerald green, its eyes sharp and watchful. Kaelen smirked as Jace stepped forward.

"A fox," Kaelen said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Against my viper? This won't take long."

Jace didn't respond. His fox stood beside him, its copper fur gleaming in the morning light. It was smaller than the viper—faster, but less dangerous-looking.

"Begin," Vasa called.

Kaelen's viper struck first. It moved like liquid, its body uncoiling with terrifying speed. Jace's fox darted to the side, barely avoiding the fangs.

"Fast," Kaelen admitted. "But not fast enough."

The viper struck again. This time, Jace's fox didn't dodge—it glowed.

A soft copper light rippled across its fur, and for a moment, the fox seemed to blur. It wasn't just speed. It was something else—something that made it hard to track with the eyes.

Kaelen blinked. "What—"

Jace moved.

His fox weaved through the viper's strikes like it was dancing. Each time the serpent lunged, the fox was already somewhere else—feinting left, darting right, creating openings that didn't exist. It was beautiful to watch.

Then the fox shifted.

The copper light intensified until the fox wasn't just glowing—it was radiant. Its form seemed to shimmer, and for a moment, it appeared larger... Not really larger but the mana surrounding it makes it look larger. Fiercer. Its copper fur caught the light and held it, making it almost ethereal.

Kaelen's viper hesitated. It pulled back, its head swaying uncertainly.

"What is that?" someone in the crowd whispered.

Kaelen's confidence faltered. "What are you doing?"

Jace didn't answer. His fox lunged—not at the viper, but at the space beside it. The viper turned to track the movement, and that was the opening.

The fox's paw connected with the serpent's side. Not a killing blow, not even a hard one—but enough to unbalance it. The viper stumbled, its coil breaking.

Kaelen stumbled too, caught off guard by his beast's loss of balance.

"Enough," Vasa called.

Jace stepped back, breathing hard. His fox's glow faded, returning to its normal size. The copper light dimmed to nothing.

Kaelen stared at him, his face pale. "How did you..."

Jace shrugged. "I've been training."

He walked back to his spot, his fox padding beside him. As he passed me, he glanced my way. A brief look—but I caught it. He nodded. I nodded back.

He deserved that win.

But I couldn't shake what I'd seen. The glow. The shimmer. The way his fox had seemed to change.

What was that?

---

The rest of the class passed in a blur. I went through the motions, my mind elsewhere. I kept thinking about the expedition. The erased name. The date.

Seventeen years ago.

And I kept thinking about Jace's fox. The copper light. The way it had transformed.

By the time the class ended, I'd made a decision.

---

"Jace," I said as we walked out of the arena. "What was that?"

He glanced at me. "What was what?"

"Your fox. The glow. The way it changed."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I've been reading the book you found. Advanced Beast Communication. It's not just about talking to them—it's about understanding their energy. Their mana signature."

I stared at him. "You've been reading it?"

"Some of it. I wanted to understand what you were studying." He shrugged. "I didn't think it would work. But I tried it during the fight. I focused on connecting with my fox's mana. And something happened."

"That was more than something," I said. "That was incredible."

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Maybe. Or maybe I just got lucky... It wasn't evolution though..it's just like discovering what the fox can do"

"Jace—"

"I need to get back to the dorm." He turned away. "I'll see you later."

I watched him walk away, his fox padding beside him. The distance between us was still there. But now there was something else, too. A thread. A connection.

He's been reading the book, I thought. He's been trying to understand.

Maybe I haven't been giving him enough credit.

---

I turned and headed toward the old man's office.

I needed to thank him for covering for me last night. Without him, I'd have been caught by the guard, and who knows what would have happened. Another punishment. More suspicion. Maybe even expulsion.

The corridors were quiet. Most students were heading back to their dorms. I made my way through the familiar passages, my heart pounding.

The old man's office door was closed. I knocked twice.

No answer.

I knocked again. Still nothing.

I pushed the door open. The room was empty. The candle on the desk was unlit. The chair was pushed back slightly, as if he'd left in a hurry.

I stepped inside, looking around. The papers were still scattered across the desk. The shelves were still packed with books. The leather-bound tome from last night was back on the shelf, its spine unmarked.

I was about to leave when something caught my eye. A small box, half-hidden behind the old man's desk. I almost missed it. But something made me stop.

I crouched down and lifted the lid.

Inside was a single item. A small, cracked locket, with a faded image inside.

I almost put it back. Then I saw the face inside.

A woman's face. Dark hair. Storm-colored eyes.

I stared at the image. I knew that face—not from a portrait, not from a painting. From Darian's memories. The memories that had flooded my mind when I first woke in this body.

Darian's mother.

My mother's face.

The woman who had died for her beast. The woman who had been killed for her defiance.

My hands were shaking. I stared at the locket, my mind racing.

Why does he have this?

I heard a creak behind me.

I dropped the locket back into the box, my heart leaping into my throat. I stood quickly, turning to face the door.

The old man stood there, his expression unreadable.

"Young master," he said. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I... came to thank you," I said. "For last night. For covering for me with the guard."

The old man's eyes held mine for a moment. His expression didn't change, but I could see something behind them—a flicker of recognition, of knowing.

"You didn't need to thank me," he said. "But I appreciate the gesture."

"Thank you," I said again. "For the records, too. For everything."

He nodded once, but his eyes hadn't left mine since I'd asked the question. Something in his face had shifted—the easy composure from our other conversations was gone. In its place was something more careful. More tired.

I walked toward the door. But I stopped before I reached it.

"Sir?"

He looked at me.

"How did you know my mother?"

The silence stretched long enough that I thought he wouldn't answer at all.

"I didn't know her," he said finally. "Not the way you're thinking."

"Then why do you have her locket?"

His jaw tightened. "Because someone asked me to keep it safe. A long time ago. Before you were born."

"Who?"

"Someone who loved her." He said it quietly, like the words cost him something. "That's more than I should have told you already."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I can give you tonight." He turned back toward his desk, his shoulders squared like he was closing a door I couldn't see. "Go back to your dorm, young master. And be careful who else you ask that question. Not everyone in this academy will answer as gently as I did."

I stood there for a moment, my mind racing. Someone who loved her. Before you were born.

That wasn't nothing. That was a thread.

"I'll find out," I said. "Eventually."

"I know," he said, not turning around. "Some truths have a way of finding the people who need them."

I walked out of the office, my mind spinning.

Someone who loved her. Someone who'd asked him to keep the locket safe.

Who?