Chapter 279: Beneath The Lake

Cecilia plunged into the water, the cold of the pond striking her like a thousand needles.

The shock stole her breath, but she forced her body to move, her limbs slicing through the dark water in steady strokes.

Her spell kept the pressure from crushing her lungs, yet even so, she could feel the icy grip of the depths pressing in on all sides.

With a quick gesture, she cast a low fire spell in her palm.

The spell flickered like a red ember under the surface, refusing to die even as the cold water lapped against it.

It gave her a small sphere of light, barely enough to see a few meters ahead, but it was better than nothing.

The pond was deeper than she’d thought.

The surface faded above her, and soon only her faint firelight remained.

She swam lower, the pressure of the water growing heavier with each meter she descended.

The bottom came into view at last, revealing a thick carpet of mud and weeds waving gently in the underwater current.

She landed softly, her boots sinking into the muck.

The silence around was absolute, but she paid it no mind.

She scanned the area, sweeping her glowing hand across the floor, until something caught her eye. A faint glimmer of iron, buried beneath the layers of mud. If it hadn’t reflected the light of her flame, she wouldn’t have even seen it.

Cecilia crouched, brushing the debris away. Her fingers met cold metal.

A small, plain brown box lay half-buried, bound tightly with chains. The chains shimmered faintly under the firelight.

This had to be it.

She grabbed the chains and pulled.

The mud resisted at first, but after a firm tug, the box came free with a soft hiss of bubbles.

It somehow felt heavier than normal in water, its weight unnatural even for its size.

She clutched it close to her chest and kicked upwards, her firelight dimming as she swam for the surface.

The moment she broke through, air rushed into her lungs.

She gasped, dragging in deep breaths while water streamed off the layer of heat that had kept her dry.

The sky was still dark, with no moon, no stars, and only heavy clouds above.

She pulled herself to shore, the box clutched tight in her hands, and wasted no time returning to her office.

When she reached her desk, she set the box down, studying the chains.

The chains seemed normal at first glance, but upon further inspection, she saw what looked like enchantment grooves carved into the metal.

She drew a deep breath, pressing her hands on the metal and sending her mana into it.

The seals upon the chain dissolved into thin wisps of gold, and it fell away.

Slowly, she lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled on a bed of dark velvet, lay a dagger.

It was made of pure gold, the surface polished to a mirror shine.

Its hilt was engraved with intricate patterns of spirals and clouds, the designs flowing into each other.

Despite its beauty, the weapon gave off no aura. No mana signature. Nothing.

And yet, every instinct in Cecilia’s body screamed danger.

Her hand hovered over it, trembling slightly.

“What are you?” she whispered.

She reached out, and the instant her fingers brushed the blade, the world vanished.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

She stood in an endless void, with no light, no sound, and no air.

But within that darkness moved something deeper still. A shadow so dark it made the void itself seem bright. It shifted, rippled, and then surged forward.

The deeper darkness flowed across the landscape like an ocean tide, swallowing everything it touched.

Cecilia saw monstrous shapes writhe within the void. Ancient beasts, half-formed and terrible.

The moment the darkness touched them, they froze, their glowing eyes dimming as they fell into a sleep so deep that even death seemed lighter.

The deeper darkness moved with purpose, searching.

It hunted, not for prey, but for something asleep. Something it needed to awaken.

Cecilia’s breath caught. A weight pressed down on her chest, pulling her to her knees.

Her vision blurred, her body growing heavy. A strange warmth began creeping through her limbs, the irresistible pull of sleep clawing at her mind.

“No,” she gasped. “No….”

She fought it with every bit of willpower she had, clawing her way back to consciousness. The darkness closed in tighter, but she tore herself free with a shuddering gasp.

She was back in her office.

Her hand jerked away from the dagger as if burned. The box clattered against the desk as she stumbled back, her heart hammering.

She slammed the lid shut, snapping the chains back into place with trembling fingers. The air around her crackled with heat as she sealed it, her breathing ragged.

A faint whisper brushed against her mind. It was soft, almost like a sigh.

She froze.

It was distant, indistinct, yet she could feel its presence like it was calling from far away, prodding gently against her consciousness.

She closed her eyes, forcing the whisper out, her mind locking it away like a cage. “No,” she muttered under her breath. “No.”

But even as she tried to forget, the name couldn’t be cleared out of her thoughts.

The Sleeper.

Cecilia exhaled shakily and slipped the sealed box into her spatial ring. Whatever her brother had hidden, it wasn’t something meant to see the light of day.

She sat at her desk until the first faint light of dawn filtered through the window.

Only then did she rise, her expression composed once more.

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Early the next morning, the academy was just beginning to stir.

The students that were early birds trudged sleepily to breakfast.

Noah walked through the quiet corridor of the dormitory, a folded paper in hand.

It contained the list of missing students. Five names, written neatly in Arlo’s handwriting. All gone without a trace.

He scanned the names again as he walked. None meant much to him. Except for one.

He reached a door at the far end of the hallway and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again, louder this time.

There was the sound of movement inside, then the door yanked open.

A student stood there, his uniform rumpled, and his hair sticking up in wild tufts. The skin beneath his eyes was dark, and his expression was one of pure irritation.

“Who the hell’s knocking on my door this early?” the boy snapped, voice rough from sleep.

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