Chapter 9- Anomaly

Moonfen Reach — Outer Fringe

Hours Before the Leaderboard Reveal

Seren moved quietly through the underbrush, boots sinking into damp soil, breath curling in the moonlit chill. The forest wasn't loud — but it wasn't silent either. It breathed in strange, deliberate ways.

And right now, so did he.

Slow. Careful. Controlled.

He should've been in the stands

.

Lio was fighting in the tournament. Seren had even picked out a seat near the upper terrace, far from the noise — just high enough to watch without being noticed.

But only if he hadn't gotten that message from Solmir.

Solmir had suddenly awakened again a few nights ago.. He started saying random words without clear explaination

"It's close… beneath. I can feel it."

"This isn't their doing.

"They're late to the game, boy."

"I don't know what it is. But something's wrong. I was buried in these woods. But someone — something — dug too deep."

Solmir was giving messages in fragments, but all Seren understood was something was buried in this forest — and he was asking Seren to retrieve that.

Earlier — Headmaster's Study

That was two nights ago.

Seren waited. Watched. Then finally, went to the Headmaster.

He hadn't planned to tell him everything. Just… enough.

Just enough to get permission to do everything freely.

The study was dim, lined with thick tomes and the faint scent of ink and cold dust. An enchanted orb hovered over the wide desk, casting soft light.

Seren stood by the window, arms behind his back, watching the shadow of the forest in the distance.

"I saw activity near Moonfen Reach," he said. "Fresh signs. Symbols. Not local. Northcrest, Stonehelm… even Silverquill."

"They were exploring outer portion of forest, as if looking for something"

Behind the desk, Headmaster Verrian didn't flinch.

"You're certain?"

"I didn't engage," Seren said. "Just observed. They were organized. They knew where to step."

The Headmaster set his quill down with a quiet tap.

"You're not the first to notice," he said, "but you are the first student who's reported it without being told to."

Seren said nothing.

"You didn't come here just to inform me, did you?" Verrian asked. "You came for permission. Hoping I'd let you return to the Reach without having to ask directly."

Seren looked down. "I thought someone should be out there."

"I agree."

Verrian stood, walking slowly toward the tall window. His robes brushed the marble as he moved.

"Normally I'd send a Sixth Year. Someone trained, discreet. But they're all under watch — the factions are keeping track of every move they make."

He glanced back.

"And I can't send a younger student. Too green. Too loud. One misstep and this becomes an incident."

His eyes met Seren's.

"But you're different. You've been out there before. You notice what others miss."

Seren's jaw tightened slightly. He didn't speak.

"You're not part of the tournament. That makes you invisible to the factions."

The Headmaster turned fully to him.

"I want eyes, not blades. You're not to interfere. Not to provoke. Just observe. Track what you can. Report what matters."

"And if they're violating the Treaty of Hollowmoor," he added quietly, "we'll handle it. Carefully. With proof."

Now — The Outer Fringe

Seren ducked under a low branch and adjusted the scarf around his collar. The trees here grew stranger. Warped. Hollowed. Like they were holding their breath.

Behind him, the sky above Velrenmar was starting to light up —

enchantments flashing in the air as the tournament began.

He could already imagine the sound of the crowd. The first roar. Names rising. Faction heads watching.

And here he was. Crawling through moss and shadow.

At least he'd told Milo to keep an eye on Lio.

"If anything happens," he'd said that morning, "stick close to him. Don't wander. And don't fight anyone unless they draw first."

He wasn't sure Milo had listened.

The voice echoed within his mind — not in words at first, but in sensation. Cold soil. Fractured bone. Moonlight on unmoving eyes.

And then it spoke.

Seren froze.

Not because of the word, but the way it landed. Calm. Crisp. Whole.

"...Solmir?"

"It is near."

The tone wasn't urgent, but it wasn't passive either — it resonated. As though spoken not into his ear, but into the roots of his spine.

"I remember this place. Faintly. Like a wound long healed… reopened."

Seren's breath caught.

"You said you didn't know where you died."

"I do not."

"But the earth does."

There was a long silence.

Seren swallowed.

The forest deepened as Seren moved, each step quieter than breath, his cloak damp with dew. Old waterlines, long dried and forgotten, twisted through the underbrush like skeletal veins — remnants of some ancient irrigation system lost to time.

"Left. Down slope. There's a fracture in the old basin wall. Go."

Solmir's voice pulsed through his mind — sharper than usual. Less fragmented. Almost… grounded.

Seren paused at a crumbling ridge where algae-choked pipes jutted from the cliff like broken ribs. He ducked low, crawling between two moss-covered stone slabs.

"There."

That's when he heard it — voices. Sharp, educated. Too clean for hunters.

He pressed himself into the stone.

Three figures passed above him, robed in dusky gray trimmed with silver.

"Is it them? The factions?"

Silverquill scouts. Their boots barely touched the ground.

"The readings were stronger yesterday," one muttered, glancing at a glowing slate.

"Still no movement from the others. Keep quiet — if anyone sees us, even a damn squirrel, we pull back."

Seren held his breath. One of them turned, eyes scanning the tree line.

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

They moved on.

Only when their voices had faded did Seren exhale — slow and silent.

Seren climbed down further, using the old pipes like ladder rungs.

Eventually, the stone shifted — not damp rock, but smoothed archwork. The temperature dropped.

A trickle of cold air touched his cheek.

The wall before him… was humming.

Seren reached out and brushed away the thick moss with his sleeve.

A faint crescent moon was carved into the stone — half-covered by vines and mud. But it wasn't the symbol of Northcrest or Silverquill.

It was older.

A different moon.

One long erased.

"There. Push it. It should—"

A deep mechanical clunk echoed through the roots and stone.

And then—

Boom.

A grinding quake surged beneath his feet as the wall split apart, dust cascading down from above. The ancient tunnel behind it exhaled — cold, vast, and silent.

Seren stepped forward, lantern flickering to life in his palm.

While exploring the ancient tunnels beneath Moonfen Reach, Seren notices a damp, moss-covered corridor that wasn't on any map Solmir recalls. The walls are slick with condensation, and a low roaring sound begins to echo ahead — too rhythmic for wind.

"That's not magic," Solmir mutters. "That's water."

As Seren follows the sound, he reaches a broken part of the tunnel — vines and roots have caved it in. But through the cracks, he sees moonlight glinting off moving water.

He squeezes through a narrow opening, pulls himself up using the roots — and emerges behind a hidden waterfall.

A pause. And then —

Silence.

Seren stopped.

"Solmir?"

No answer.

He again felt alone inside his own head.

A chill prickled across his spine. He pressed onward.

The tunnel dipped — then widened. He stepped into a large, hollowed space where the sound of rushing waterfilled the air. The ground sloped down into a natural basin, mist curling in from cracks above.

It smelled of wet stone and something else — something faintly metallic.

He barely had time to turn his head before something tore through the air.

Whhhk—!

A blur. Crack.

The projectile struck the stone just inches from his face, lodging deep with a wet crunch.

Seren's eyes widened.

It wasn't a spear.

It was a human spine.

The bones, stripped clean and fused at the base, had been thrown with such speed that it had embedded halfway into the rock.

He spun, back to the wall, gaze sweeping the mist.

Drip. Drip. Footsteps.

And there, just past the mist — like a shadow stepping out of smoke — stood Rhael Moren.

Seren didn't move. His pulse slowed. "I wasn't aware I had company."

"You know… that should've hit you," he said casually, voice light as mist. "But I suppose it's more fun this way."

"Oh, you didn't." Rhael tilted his head, one hand twitching at his side — not out of anxiety, but anticipation. "You're a clever little rat. Most would have died from that shot."

"You're not supposed to be here," Seren said flatly. "Neither are the others. This is academy-protected territory. You know that."

"Oh, I love when people say that." Rhael grinned, eyes wild. "You're not supposed to be here! Do you hear yourself? Like this is a dormitory curfew."

He took a step closer.

Seren didn't wait for the conversation to rot any further.

He lunged forward—feet skimming the wet stone—palm open and angled. The air shimmered around him as he twisted the force of his momentum. A snap-crack of redirected energy surged outward, kinetic power coiled like a whip. It shot straight toward Rhael's chest.

It hit.

But Rhael barely staggered.

The sound of impact echoed, but his boots stayed planted. His body recoiled with the blow… and then settled.

His laugh came slow, incredulous, eyes wide like a child unwrapping a cruel gift.

"Ohhh, you're good! You're good!"

He brushed off his robes where the force had struck.

"But I'm not here to win."

That smile — crooked, too wide, too calm — began to twist at the corners.

"I'm here to ruin things."

"Seren of Velrenmar," he drawled, tasting the name like a fine wine gone sour.

Seren didn't respond. His eyes stayed locked, guarded.

"Oh, I've done my homework."

Rhael tapped his temple, smiling like a man proud of something unspeakable.

"Low resonance metrics until recently. Parents—dead. Village—gone. Records spotty. No mentors, no sponsors. No reason you should be here."

"And yet here you are… crawling through tunnels that don't belong to you, in places the academy pretends it still controls."

A flicker of rage twisted his grin into something predatory.

"That's what makes you interesting, Seren. See, I don't like paperwork… but I love anomalies."

He reached out with one gloved hand and slowly curled his fingers into a fist.

"And anomalies… they're not killed fast. That would be boring."

His voice dropped, silk-wrapped in menace.

"They're studied."

"And today… I will start with you."