THE VOID BEAST

CHAPTER 17: THE WATCHERS

The door clicked shut behind Darian.

Jace stood in the darkness, his hand still resting on the wooden frame. He pressed his forehead against the cool surface and let out a long, shaky breath.

He's really gone.

He'd known this moment was coming. He'd seen it in the way Darian's eyes grew distant, the way his jaw tightened when he thought no one was watching. But knowing and watching were different things.

Jace closed his eyes. The silence pressed against his ears.

Please come back. Please be careful.

---

He remembered the last time he'd watched someone walk away.

He had been eight years old. The academy grounds had been his playground back then. His father was a groundskeeper, which meant Jace had the run of the place when the students were in class. He knew every hidden corner, every secret passage, every place where a small boy could hide and watch the world go by.

That's where he'd met Ren.

Ren was a student—a C-rank boy with a small hawk and a bigger smile. He was a few years older than Jace, but he never seemed to mind the age difference. He treated Jace like an equal, like a friend.

"Hey, grounds-keeper boy," Ren would call out. "You know any good hiding spots?"

Jace always did. He showed Ren the passages his father had shown him. They'd explore together, talking about nothing and everything. Ren had laughed easily, which was why Jace had liked him. He made everything seem simple.

"I've never had a friend like you," Ren had said once. "Someone who actually wants to explore, not just study."

"I've never had a friend at all," Jace admitted.

Ren had grinned. "Well, now you do."

That was the happiest Jace had ever been.

Then Ren found the passage that led to the outer wall.

"Look," Ren said, his eyes bright. "We could get out. See what's beyond the academy."

Jace had been afraid. The passage was dangerous—his father had warned him never to go near it. The walls were unstable. The path was treacherous.

"I don't think we should," Jace said.

"What's the matter? Scared?"

"I'm not scared. I just—"

"Don't worry, Jace. I'll be careful. I'll come right back."

Jace had wanted to believe him. He'd wanted to be a good friend, a brave friend.

So he'd stayed behind. He'd watched Ren disappear into the darkness.

And Ren never came back.

They found his body three days later, at the base of the outer wall.

They said he'd fallen. The passage had crumbled beneath his feet.

At least, that was what everyone believed.

Jace had never been entirely sure.

He'd told himself it wasn't his fault. He'd warned Ren. He'd tried to stop him.

But a part of him had always wondered: What if I'd gone with him? What if I'd been there to catch him?

And another part—a quieter part—wondered: What if the passage didn't just collapse? What if something else happened?

He'd never found an answer. He'd never been able to ask.

He hadn't made another friend after that. He'd kept everyone at arm's length, afraid that if he let someone in, he'd lose them too.

Until Darian.

Until the boy with the rabbit and the haunted eyes.

Jace opened his eyes and looked at the door. I couldn't save Ren. But I can help Darian. I made him take supplies. I showed him the safe passage. I did everything I could.

He turned to walk back toward the dorm—and stopped.

I showed him the safe passage. I gave him supplies.

That was exactly what he'd told Ren. I'll be careful. I'll come right back. And Jace had stood there and let him go, because helping felt like the same thing as protecting.

His stomach turned.

This isn't the same, he told himself. Darian isn't Ren. I'm not eight years old anymore. I did more this time—I gave him what he needed to survive.

But the thought wouldn't leave him: he'd stood at the mouth of a passage before, watching someone he cared about walk into the dark alone. And he'd told himself the same thing then, too. That it would be fine. That they'd come back.

He pressed his palm against the tapestry, where the hidden door had been.

Not again. Please. Not again.

He let out another breath. This time, I made the right decision. I have to believe that.

He turned and started walking back toward the dorm.

He knew he wouldn't sleep until Darian returned.

---

In the shadows beyond the tapestry, the old man watched Jace turn and walk away.

His name was Aldric. He had been in the service of Lady Aria for more than twenty years, and in all that time, he had never once questioned her orders.

Until tonight.

He watched the boy's retreating figure—the set of his shoulders, the slow, deliberate pace. He was worried. That was good. Worry meant he cared.

Aldric had been watching Darian since the boy arrived at Aurelian Spire. He'd seen the bullying, the isolation, the weight of being unwanted. He'd seen the rabbit, too—the strange, silent creature that followed the boy everywhere.

And he'd seen Jace.

The groundskeeper's son had surprised him. He'd expected the boy to give up on Darian, to distance himself from the academy's pariah. Instead, he'd grown closer. He'd defended him, supported him, and now he'd helped him escape.

Aldric thought of Lady Aria's words: "He will need someone who chooses him, not because of his blood, but because of who he is."

She'd been right. Jace was that someone.

But now Darian was gone. And the mountain awaited him.

---

Aldric moved through the shadows, his footsteps silent on the cold stone. He knew these corridors better than anyone. He'd walked them for decades, watching, waiting, protecting.

He reached the door to Lady Aria's study and knocked twice.

"Enter."

The room was lit by a single candle, its flame casting long shadows across the walls. Lady Aria stood by the window, her back to him, her silhouette sharp against the moonlit sky.

She didn't turn around.

"He's gone," Aldric said. "The boy. He left through the passage."

Lady Aria was silent for a long moment.

"He was always going to seek the truth eventually," she said finally.

"He found the locket," Aldric said. "I believe that's what pushed him over the edge. He saw her face."

For a long moment, she didn't speak. When she finally turned, Aldric saw the grief in her eyes—the same grief she'd carried for seventeen years, hidden beneath layers of duty and distance.

"After all these years," she said quietly. "After everything I've done to keep him safe... a locket in your office sent him into the mountains."

"I'm sorry, my lady. I was careless."

She was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.

"Perhaps it was meant to be."

Aldric waited. Then: "Should I go after him? Intervene?"

Lady Aria shook her head.

"No. He carries Lyra's blood. He has to face this on his own."

She walked to the window and looked out at the distant mountains.

"And if he finds what he's looking for?" Aldric asked.

She was quiet for a long moment.

"Then we will know whether he was ready for it."

Aldric bowed his head. "And if he is in danger?"

Lady Aria's jaw tightened, but her voice remained steady. "If we clear every obstacle from his path, he will never learn what he is capable of surviving."

She turned to face him.

"Make sure he returns to the academy without being caught. But do not intervene in his journey through the mountains. He must walk that path alone."

Aldric bowed. "As you wish, my lady."

He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.

"Aldric."

He looked back.

"He has someone now," she said. "Someone who chose him for who he is."

Aldric glanced toward the door. "Jace?"

Lady Aria nodded. "Yes."

She looked back toward the mountains.

"Sometimes one person choosing you is enough to change everything."