Wads sat at the farthest corner of the academy's vast library, deliberately choosing the spot where shadows clung and no one would easily notice him. He always loved places like this—quiet, detached, and free from interruption.
On his table were four heavy books stacked neatly, alongside his notebook and a sharpened pencil. His current focus was archaeology—relics, lost civilizations, and the remnants of eras long buried. Unlike most, he wasn't interested in relics just for power or wealth. To him, relics were puzzle pieces of history; each one carried a whisper of the past that could change how the present understood itself.
The silence was comforting. His shoulders slowly relaxed as his eyes traced the faded letters on the page. The stillness made his eyelids heavier, and soon, drowsiness began to take over—until the chair beside him suddenly scraped against the floor.
Wads' eyes flicked sideways.
Reiyell.
Her hair was braided today, neat and elegant, yet giving her a softer look. She placed a book down gently on the desk, then looked at him with the faintest smile tugging her lips.
"Your Highness?" Wads asked cautiously, blinking at her.
No response. Just her eyes—sharp, steady, unwavering.
"…Is there something wrong with my face?" he asked again, a little unnerved.
Reiyell tilted her head. "How are you so handsome?"
Wads froze. His brows furrowed, unsure if she was mocking him or not. "Your Highness, please… stop joking."
"You don't believe me?"
His lips parted, but no words came out at first. After a pause, he muttered, "It's not that I don't believe you… it's just… there are far more important things to notice than my face."
Reiyell only leaned closer, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She lifted her hand and brushed his cheek, fingertips warm against his skin. The space between them thinned, so close that Wads could feel her breath ghosting over his lips.
His heart skipped. His eyes widened—
And then, pain struck his knees.
He jolted awake, sucking in air sharply. His vision was blurred for a moment, until he realized… the library was pitch dark.
"The hell…" he muttered, rubbing his face, heat still lingering faintly on his cheeks. "What kind of dream was that?"
Exhaling, he glanced around. The lights had been turned off; only the moonlight filtered through the tall windows. He cursed under his breath, quickly gathering his notebook and shoving it into his satchel.
"Shit… locked." He twisted the doorknob again, but it wouldn't budge. Leaning his forehead against the cold wood, he groaned. "Of course. I get locked in."
With no choice, he turned back, scanning the empty library. The shelves stretched endlessly, and the moonlight painted the place in silvery gloom. His footsteps echoed faintly as he wandered, the silence almost eerie.
Then, something caught his eye.
Two bookshelves at the far corner. At first, they seemed normal. But Wads' eyes, trained to notice irregularities, caught the faintest gap between them. Narrow. Almost invisible.
He crouched down, running his fingers along the bottom shelf. "Heh. Subtle. But not subtle enough."
Standing again, he pushed against the shelves. They didn't move. Clicking his tongue, he squinted and inspected the spines. Strange carvings lined the wood—symbols connected to their world's oldest dynasty, a time when magic and history were inseparable.
"Hm… patterns of the First Dynasty. Left, right, then third rotation?" He tapped his chin, half amused. "If this collapses the shelves on me, I'll haunt whoever built it."
He pulled at a specific book with the marked symbol.
Click.
The ground trembled slightly. Between the two shelves, a hidden stairway revealed itself, stone steps leading downward.
"…Well, that's not suspicious at all," Wads muttered, though his eyes gleamed with curiosity.
He descended, and at the bottom, a single door stood waiting. When he pushed it open, the stale air of centuries greeted him.
Inside was an ancient room. Dust layered every surface. Shelves brimmed with books, old maps, and scrolls. A table lay at one side, scattered with papers that seemed untouched for generations.
Wads' lips curled in awe. He moved carefully, touching spines, flipping through worn pages. One book caught his attention, its title etched in Tersarian, a language long dead. He recognized enough letters to read it:
"The Eternity That Lies Between."
Carrying it to the table, he set it down, but his eyes strayed to a second door half-hidden on the wall. Curiosity tugged, and when he pushed it open, he found yet another staircase—this one leading upward.
"Secret passages on top of secret passages. Whoever built this had trust issues," he whispered, half-grinning.
For now, he returned to the table and sifted through the papers. They weren't coded—written in common script. Histories, geographical studies, even personal journals. At the bottom of one, a name caught his eye: Winston.
"Looks like this was… way, way back. Centuries ago," he murmured, adjusting the grammar of the old notes in his head.
Finally, he opened The Eternity That Lies Between. The text spoke of forgotten legends, fragments of lore woven into prophecy. One section in particular seized his attention:
"Somewhere along the East lies a treasure unknown. Those who find it may witness the source of their deity's power—the truth of its bearer."
Wads frowned deeply. The words were vague. No specific place, no clear description. Just a riddle meant to frustrate.
"Great. A blind treasure hunt for something that may not even exist." He sighed, closing the book halfway.
Leaning back, he glanced around the chamber once more, an idea forming in his mind. Klyden and Liora. If he told them, this could be their private place. A secret sanctuary beneath the academy.
The thought brought a rare smirk to his face.
Curiosity piqued again, he finally tested the second hidden door. Pouring a little magic into it, the mechanism responded, and the stone wall shifted. Beyond it, fresh night air greeted him—leading to the academy's secret garden.
The cold wind brushed against his face as he stepped out. The full moon hung above, silver and serene.
Wads lifted his eyes, yawned, and muttered with dry humor, "Locked in a library, find a secret chamber, and stumble into a treasure hunt. Typical night."