Chapter 16: Lucius

Sylas let out a slow breath, his pulse still unsteady. He glanced at the clock—4:03 AM.

Shit.

He had an early class.

Shoving aside the lingering unease, he quickly washed his face, changed into his uniform, and grabbed his bag. He left his dorm and stepped into the cool morning air, the campus eerily quiet, save for the distant hoot of an owl. As he walked toward the lecture hall, he tried to shake off the remnants of his dream.

It wasn't real. It was just a dream.

That's what he told himself.

—

Class continued as usual.

Callan was struggling with the spell formations—again. Gregor, despite his massive build and intimidating presence, was just as hopeless. "Why does the damn circle keep breaking?!" Callan groaned, glaring at the half-formed rune on his parchment.

Gregor frowned. "Maybe we're cursed."

Sylas barely paid attention. His mind still lingered on the dream, but the rhythm of class was helping him ease back into reality.

It was just another day.

Until he saw him.

Across the room, near the front, stood a man with striking red hair and those all-too-familiar crimson eyes. He was helping Mira with a problem, his expression calm and unreadable.

For a split second, the world seemed to slow.

Sylas's instincts roared.

Before he even registered what he was doing, his fingers moved on their own, flicking a dagger with pinpoint precision. The blade shot forward, nearing the speed of light—aimed directly at where Lucius stood.

Then he blinked.

Lucius was gone.

The dagger buried itself into the wooden frame beside Mira, humming from the sheer force behind it.

Mira turned, wide-eyed. "…Whoa."

Sylas barely heard her. His breathing was uneven, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Mira blinked at him, then grinned. "You were testing my reaction speed, weren't you?"

Sylas stared at her, trying to process her words.

She didn't see him.

Lucius—or whoever that was—was never there.

Mira put her hands on her hips. "So? Did I pass?"

Sylas forced himself to nod.

Mira pumped her fist. "Hell yeah."

Class continued like normal.

But for Sylas, something had shifted.

—

Lunch break came, and the students flooded into the cafeteria. The scent of warm bread and grilled meat filled the air as students gathered at tables, laughing and chatting.

Sylas sat down with his usual group—Callan, Gregor, and Mira.

Mira grinned as she dug into her food. "You really had me there, Sylas. I totally thought that dagger was going for my head."

Callan, still chewing on a sandwich, gave Sylas a side glance. "Yeah, that was kinda weird, man. Since when do you test people's reaction speeds?"

Sylas barely touched his food. His fingers tapped against the wooden table absentmindedly.

Lucius had been there. He was sure of it.

But if he had disappeared in the blink of an eye, then that meant…

Sylas glanced around the cafeteria, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

If Lucius was here, hiding in plain sight—he needed to find him.

Sylas walked through the halls, his mind racing. The cafeteria had been too crowded, too loud. He needed silence—to think. The library was the perfect place.

As he stepped inside, the scent of old parchment and ink filled his lungs. The grand hall was dimly lit, the towering bookshelves casting long shadows across the wooden floor. Only a handful of students were scattered around, either buried in books or scribbling away at their notes.

He made his way to the theology section, his fingers trailing along the spines of ancient texts. Lucius.

What kind of god was he?

Monotheistic? A singular deity ruling over all? No… he didn't carry that kind of presence.

Benevolent? If he was, why did Sylas feel an unnatural weight in his presence?

Malevolent?

Sylas's hand froze over a book titled The Malevolence of Forgotten Gods.

His gut told him that was the right category.

He grabbed it—then grabbed another. And another. Soon, he had a tower of nearly ten books, each one detailing gods of chaos, deception, and destruction. He settled at an isolated table near the back, away from prying eyes.

As he flipped through the pages, he found accounts of gods who toyed with mortals for their own amusement, gods who reshaped reality with a mere thought, gods who whispered truths laced with lies.

He frowned, narrowing his eyes at a passage detailing a god who walked among humans, blending in, always watching.

Sylas blinked.

The words on the page shifted.

The ink unraveled like threads, twisting into new letters. The passage now read:

"You're looking in the wrong place, Sylas."

His breath hitched. His fingers tensed on the edges of the book.

He blinked again.

The text was back to normal.

A cold chill crept down his spine. His instincts screamed at him that he wasn't alone.

Slowly, carefully, he sat up.

Lucius was sitting right in front of him.

Leaning back in the chair, arms folded, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"You sure do love reading about me."

Sylas's blood ran cold. His grip on the book tightened. "You—"

Lucius raised a hand lazily. "No need for that look. I come in peace."

Sylas didn't relax. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. "Why are you here?"

Lucius tilted his head. "Isn't it obvious? You were thinking about me so much, I couldn't help but drop by."

Sylas clenched his jaw. "That's not an answer."

Lucius chuckled. "Alright, alright." He leaned forward slightly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly under the dim light. "Let's just say I'm here to… guide you."

Sylas narrowed his eyes. "Guide me?"

Lucius smirked. "You're asking all the right questions, but your answers? Not quite there yet." He tapped a finger against one of the books. "These? They won't help you."

Sylas exhaled sharply, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Then what will?"

Lucius's grin widened.

"Oh, that's the fun part, dear mortal. You're going to find out the hard way."

Sylas barely had time to react.

One moment, Lucius was lounging in his seat, all smug smirks and cryptic words.

The next—

He was right there.

A breath away.

Before Sylas could even process what was happening, Lucius tilted his head and—

Peck.

A fleeting touch against his cheek. Gone in an instant.

The sensation barely had time to register before Lucius was back in his seat, sprawled out like nothing had happened, a devilish grin plastered across his face.

"Well, well, well," Lucius purred, clasping his hands together. "I must say, Sylas, I'm deeply flattered. All this research? About me?" He let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his chest. "You really are obsessed."

Sylas sat there, completely frozen.

His brain was refusing to catch up.

What. The. Hell.

His cheek burned. Whether from shock, rage, or something else entirely, he had no idea. His grip on the book tightened, his knuckles going white.

"You—" His voice came out lower than intended, his patience dangerously thin.

Lucius grinned wider. "Oh? Speechless? That's a first."

Sylas inhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. His heart was hammering far too fast for his liking. He exhaled, leveled his gaze, and glared.

"If you ever do that again, I will stab you."

Lucius laughed.

Actually laughed.

"Oh, Sylas, Sylas, Sylas—" He wagged a finger. "You already tried that. Remember the dagger? Didn't quite work out for you, did it?"

Sylas clenched his jaw. "Next time, I won't miss."

Lucius leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I hope you try, dear mortal. It makes things so much more entertaining."

Sylas's fingers twitched, resisting the overwhelming urge to launch the book at his face.

Lucius seemed to sense this because he gave him a teasing smirk and leaned back.

"But I digress! Back to the matter at hand—your little research spree." He gestured lazily to the stack of books. "You really think I'm a malevolent god?"

Sylas narrowed his eyes. "You tell me."

Lucius hummed, tapping a finger against the table. "Hmm… well, I suppose that depends. If I was truly malevolent, don't you think I'd have done something a little worse than just…" He gestured vaguely toward Sylas's cheek. "…that?"

Sylas stiffened. He absolutely hated that Lucius was making a point.

Lucius's grin turned smug. "See? That's why I said you're asking the right questions but getting the wrong answers." He tapped his temple. "Think bigger, Sylas. If you want to understand me, you need to go beyond books and theories."

Sylas narrowed his eyes. "Then what do you suggest?"

Lucius's smile sharpened. "Simple. You'll just have to figure me out yourself."

Then—just like before—he vanished.

Not in a dramatic, slow fade. Not in a swirl of magic.

Just—gone.

Sylas sat there, staring at the empty seat.

His heartbeat was still uneven. His fingers dug into the table as he muttered under his breath:

"I hate that bastard."

The library remained silent, save for the faint echo of Lucius's laughter lingering in the air.

Sylas exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. He needed to calm down. The books weren't giving him answers, and Lucius was proving to be the most insufferable entity he had ever encountered.

With an irritated sigh, he lowered himself back into his chair—

Except—

There was no chair.

Instead, he landed right on something solid.

Warm.

Human.

His brain processed the feeling a second too late. The arm curling around his waist. The slight rise and fall of a chest beneath him. The sound of breath near his ear.

Sylas's entire body went rigid.

He turned his head just enough to see the infuriatingly amused face of Lucius.

Sitting comfortably. Under him.

And he—he was sitting on his damn lap.

Sylas froze.

Lucius, on the other hand, was absolutely thriving off his reaction.

"Comfy?" he teased, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

Sylas's eye twitched.

Lucius smirked, reaching up before Sylas could react and tracing a single finger over his lips.

It was slow. Taunting.

Sylas's entire soul left his body.

Lucius let out a low chuckle, watching with visible delight as Sylas's face went from confusion to sheer rage.

And then, he laughed.

Right in Sylas's face.

Loud, unrestrained, genuinely entertained.

Sylas snapped.

"You—!"

With pure instinct, he elbowed Lucius straight in the ribs and shoved himself off his lap, his entire body burning with a mix of anger, mortification, and absolute hatred.

Lucius, of course, barely reacted. If anything, he just looked more amused.

"Oh, Sylas, you're adorable when you're flustered."

"I AM NOT FLUSTERED."

Lucius raised a brow. "Really? Then why is your face so—"

"Shut. Up." Sylas seethed, yanking out a dagger for the second time today.

Lucius beamed. "Ah, back to the stabbing threats. I was wondering when you'd resort to violence again."

Sylas gritted his teeth. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't end you right here."

Lucius grinned. "Because, dear mortal, you can't."

Sylas was so close to throwing the dagger straight between his annoying crimson eyes when—

Lucius vanished. Again.

Sylas stood there, shaking, furious.

Then—

From nowhere, a disembodied whisper brushed against his ear:

"You look cute when you're mad, by the way."

Sylas threw the dagger full force at the nearest bookshelf.

It embedded itself deep into the wood.

Students turned. Stared.

He ignored them.

Instead, he dragged his hands down his face, breathing heavily.

He needed therapy.

Immediately.