Flicker Of Trust

I didn't flinch. Didn't let my eyes linger too long on the warning.

I read the words—"Do not trust the one who teaches you"—and tucked the knowledge deep inside me, behind the same walls where I'd hidden fear and grief before.

Lira didn't see it.

Or maybe she did… and was waiting to see what I'd do.

I kept my expression neutral and reached out to touch the scroll. "Is this proof? That she really existed?"

Lira nodded slowly. "This scroll was buried under five layers of protective runes. Even the High Circle didn't know it was down here."

But you did.

I didn't say it aloud. I just nodded, pretending to be exactly what she wanted: a frightened novice, desperate for answers.

"Can I keep it?" I asked, eyes wide, feigning vulnerability.

Her mouth tightened—just a flicker. "Not yet," she said. "But you can return to study it once your training is… more stable."

Right. Once I'm easier to control.

I gave her a grateful smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

That night, back in my chamber, I waited until the castle grew still.

Then I opened the journal again.

Its pages were blank—but warm. I could feel it pulsing faintly in my palms, as though it knew I had a secret now. And that I was ready to use it.

I turned to the back, the pages Lira hadn't seen. Pages that sometimes only revealed themselves in reflection or when the moonlight hit them just right.

And there, in faint silver ink, a new message had appeared:

"The serpent lies with a healer's tongue."

"Watch her hands. She opens doors she cannot close."

I didn't sleep.

Instead, I began mapping the symbols I had seen in the sanctum. I sketched the gate from my vision. I compared them to the ink in the journal, the scorch marks on the floor, even the stitching on Lira's cloak.

A pattern began to form. One that pulsed at the edge of meaning, just out of reach—like a dream you can almost remember.

Then, just before dawn, the journal offered one more phrase:

"She is not the only one watching you."

The mid-morning sun filtered weakly through the barred window, but I barely noticed. Something in the air had shifted overnight—an undercurrent of tension that prickled my skin.

I wasn't alone.

The journal rested beside me, silent now, but I could still feel its heartbeat beneath the covers. I rose and moved toward the window, eyes scanning the courtyard below.

Then—a flicker in the shadows.

Someone watching. Someone waiting.

My breath caught.

Before I could blink, a soft tap echoed from the wall opposite my bed.

A loose stone.

My heart thundered as I pressed it. The stone gave way, revealing a small hollow just big enough for a folded note.

I unfolded the parchment with trembling hands.

"Trust no one. Especially not Lira. If you want to survive, find me at the Whispering Well at dusk. —A Friend"

The words burned like fire on the page.

My mind raced. Who could it be? How had they found me? And why warn me now?

I glanced around the chamber. No sign of the hidden observer.

The journal pulsed faintly beside me—as if aware of the warning.

Dusk couldn't come fast enough.

Dusk draped the castle grounds in a veil of shadows and muted colours. I slipped through the twisting corridors, heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. The Whispering Well lay at the edge of the garden—a forgotten place where the wind always seemed to carry secrets.

The moonlight shimmered on the ancient stone rim as I approached, every step heavier than the last.

A figure stepped out from behind the gnarled willow beside the well—tall, cloaked, and hooded. Their voice was low, almost a whisper. "You came."

I nodded, clutching the journal beneath my cloak. "Who are you? Why warn me?"

They pulled back the hood, revealing sharp, guarded eyes—eyes that held both knowledge and pain.

"I was once like you," they said. "A vessel for power they didn't ask for. But I learned the hard way that not everyone who offers help can be trusted."

I swallowed, sensing the weight behind their words.

"Lira…" I began.

The stranger shook their head. "She's tied to the old order. Her loyalty isn't to you—it's to the High Circle. They want control over the gate, over the power you carry. And if they can't have you, they'll destroy you."

My grip tightened on the journal. "Then what do I do?"

The stranger stepped closer, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You need to understand the gate's true purpose. It isn't just a doorway—it's a prison. And what's locked inside is waking."

They handed me a small, folded map, edges worn and stained.

"This leads to the second sanctum—hidden deep in the forest. If you want to survive, you must go there. Find the truth before they find you."

A sudden noise—a twig snapping—made us both freeze.

"We're not alone," the stranger said, eyes darting to the shadows.

Before I could react, a figure stepped into the moonlight—another watcher, but with a smile that didn't reach their eyes.

"Running isn't the answer," the newcomer said smoothly. "But perhaps a lesson is."

The air thickened with danger.

And the true game had just begun.

The newcomer's smile curled sharper—too sharp. "Lesson first, escape later," they said, voice dripping with menace.

The stranger beside me tensed, hand twitching toward a hidden dagger beneath their cloak. But the newcomer raised a hand, calm and deliberate.

"Peace," they said, eyes gleaming. "For now."

Then, turning to me, they spoke as if weighing me like a puzzle. "You carry the blood of a key, yet you know nothing of the lock. Both can destroy or redeem. Which will you choose?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their words settle like a stone in my chest.

The first stranger's gaze hardened. "They don't tell you everything. They never do. But the true danger isn't outside—it's inside. In the cracks between trust and betrayal."

The newcomer smiled again, this time colder. "Ah, the cracks. Perfect places for secrets to hide."

A flicker of movement caught my eye—a shadow shifting behind a twisted branch. Neither of them noticed.

Suddenly, the wind whispered through the willow leaves, carrying a faint, eerie chant—words I recognized from the journal's margins but couldn't yet understand.

The newcomer's eyes widened, and the stranger cursed under their breath.

"We've been marked," the stranger hissed. "Someone's watching. And waiting."

I felt it too—a presence lurking just beyond sight, patient and hungry.

The map in my hand suddenly burned with heat, as if alive.

The newcomer laughed—a sound without joy.

"Choose quickly, vessel. The gate's secrets are not yours alone. And those who seek them will stop at nothing."

Before either could say more, a sharp crack echoed from the woods. Both turned instantly, but when they looked back—

I was alone.