The elder’s response was dull, as he picked his nails with the tip of a small blade. “We appreciate your swift reporting, Commander. The Circle of Light will evaluate all submitted findings, but we must be cautious not to tangle unrelated events.”
Sorcha glanced around the room. Most of the Circle members wore practiced expressions, calm to the point of almost dismissive. A few avoided eye contact altogether.
“The Circle of Light will continue to monitor the situation,” Thalor continued. “Unusual flora, magical disturbances, unexplained activity, anything of note is to be documented and reported through official channels. Let’s be clear, there is no sign of a real threat at this time.”
He let the words hang in the air, final and unquestionable. As the meeting adjourned, the chamber emptied in murmurs and rustling cloaks. Nethran lingered at the edge of the platform, addressing the Circle of Light directly.
“I’ll be sending cadets on standard patrols,” he said. “The rest of us will remain here, combing the archives. If this has happened before, we’ll find it.”
With that, the Circle dispersed into the aisles.
Sorcha moved toward the nearest shelf, inhaling the scent of aged-wood polish. Her fingers trailed over the spines of tomes until they settled on a worn green volume:The Creatures of the Wild: A Balance of Magic and Nature.She pulled it from the shelf and slid into a chair, lantern light casting long shadows over the pages.
From the corner of her eye, Sorcha spotted Drystan sauntering over, a stack of dusty scrolls balanced precariously in one hand. He dropped into the chair next to her with an exaggerated sigh, stretching his legs beneath the table.
“Researching how to save the world, are we?” he teased, his grin almost infectious. “Or just looking for more bedtime stories?”
“Some of us take this seriously, Drystan,” Sorcha retorted, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Gods, and here I thought I was contributing, keeping morale up.”
Before Sorcha could respond, Commander Nethran’s voice cut through the banter like a blade.
“Focus, both of you,” he hissed, his voice low and sharp. “We’re not here for games. We need to find something useful in these archives.”
Drystan leaned towards Sorcha, peering at the open book. His long brown hair fell over his scarred eyebrow, and his lapis eyes gleamed in the library’s dim light. His elbow brushed against hers, a familiar distraction. Across from him, Mason mirrored Drystan’s actions, batting his eyelashes at Sorcha. Soft thuds echoed on the polished floor as Riona descended the staircase, her long,silvery blonde braid swaying with each step. Her diamond-colored eyes, flecked with frost, scanned the group with amusement.
Crossing her arms, she chimed in, “Oh, good. A battle of egos.”
Drystan threw his hands up in mock surrender, while Mason leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Riona, this isn’t a competition. He knows I’d win.”
“Win what, exactly?” Mason retorted.
Across the table, Eirin spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Can you all just stop? We all know I’m the best looking one here, and, unlike you lot, I’m not making a fool of myself.” He grinned at Sorcha, biting his lip slightly, holding her gaze. He was undeniably handsome, and he knew it, his runes shifting over his muscles like a serpent.
Rhosyn, Sorcha, and Riona burst into laughter, while Emry, Drystan, and Mason glared at Eirin. Emry, usually lost in a book, tried to hide behind it, his straw-colored hair and sky-blue eyes giving him away. Hecouldn’t help but crack a smile, and soon everyone else was laughing too. At the head of the table, Commander Nethran gave them a look that could quell a rebellion. He was clearly a father at the end of his rope.
Riona rolled her eyes. “Enough, you lot. Take your flirting somewhere else before Sorcha explodes.”
Caught between a glare and laughter, Sorcha muttered, “I’m fine, thanks. No need to worry.”
Riona leaned in, lowering her voice. “It’s almost impressive, really. They’ve turned flirting into a sport.”
Riona straightened, finding a seat beside Emry. As Sorcha picked up some scrolls, she saw Emry wink at Riona as he brushed her hand. Sorcha smiled and returned to her book.
As the night wore on, the chatter died down, replaced by focused silence. The soft light of the lanterns did little to combat the encroaching darkness. Shadows stretched across the towering shelves, and the once inviting smell of parchment now felt stale. The Circle’s progress was no better than when they had arrived. Sorcha rubbedher temples, staring at yet another ancient text that evaded the topic of magical corruption, offering no real answers. Across from her, Riona slammed a book shut with a frustrated sigh, pushing her chair back.
“If I have to read one more sentence about balance and the natural order, I’m going to lose my mind.” Drystan leaned back, tossing a crumpled piece of parchment onto the table.
“I think I just read the same sentence in three different books, all worded slightly differently. I vote we burn the lot of them.”
Emry shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty sure burning books is a crime, even for us.”
Drystan grinned. “Then we’ll blame it on the corruption.”
Even Emry chuckled at that, though his tired expression mirrored the rest of them. He turned to Commander Nethran, who was still skimming a massive tome. “Commander, I think it’s time we admitted defeat. For now, anyway.”
“We’re all running on fumes,” Riona added. “We could use a break. Food, maybe a drink or several. Then we can come back and keep going.”
