Chapter 3: The Trap That Breathed
It began with a whisper.
Not the magical kind—a true whisper, hushed and trembling, passed from trembling lips to listening ears in Arcanum Academy's underground library annex. A secret corner of the academy few visited, hidden beneath spiraling staircases and layered time wards.
The whisper said: "Lucien Drex is dangerous."
It was Renn who said it. To the wrong person. At the worst possible time.
---
Seraphina Vale stood in the central rotunda of the library, eyes narrowing as the enchanted ink on her private scroll revealed the same message Renn had just shared.
She didn't scold him. She didn't even respond.
Instead, she whispered a command word—"Luxsilentia"—and her scroll retracted, burned itself into magical ash, and scattered into the marble cracks at her feet.
She had seen enough.
The trap Lucien laid on Renn's hand wasn't just a ward. It was a listening rune. Every word Renn uttered had been sent to Lucien's dormant sigil network—quietly, effortlessly.
She looked up.
Lucien knew.
He always knew.
---
Three floors up, in Dormitory Sector West, Room 119, Lucien Drex closed a thin obsidian notebook and poured himself tea. Not hot—he disliked waiting. Lukewarm, spiced with floating mint.
He sipped slowly.
On the table before him lay a map of the academy—hand-drawn, annotated, layered with shifting runes only he could read. Around one corner glowed a small red sigil: Renn.
It pulsed twice.
"Triggered," Lucien murmured. "Poor boy."
He didn't move. He didn't need to.
Because the trap was already breathing.
---
Renn stumbled through the hallways, breath hitching, chest tight. He felt... dizzy. Not sick, but like the air around him was getting heavier. Like the corridors stretched wrong.
He turned a corner. The wall was... missing?
No. Not missing. Folded.
The hallway bent in a way that didn't obey Euclidean geometry anymore. Doors blinked in and out of visibility. Ceiling lights glitched, flickering between orange, white, then void black.
And on the wall ahead of him, something watched.
A sigil. Glowing faintly.
Shaped like a closed eye.
Then it opened.
Renn screamed.
---
Across campus, Seraphina reached the east tower observatory. Her personal practice chamber was sealed, her defenses active. But something gnawed at her.
She couldn't sleep. Couldn't focus.
Why had Lucien set a trap on Renn? Was it just protection—or punishment?
And why did her chest tighten every time she remembered his voice?
"I'm not a piece in your game."
Wasn't he?
Or had he flipped the board without her noticing?
She closed her eyes and cast a locating spell. Not for Lucien. For Renn.
The results came back... scrambled.
"What?" she whispered.
The locator glyph shook, glitched, then burned out in her hand.
Lucien's trap wasn't meant to hurt Renn.
It was meant to warn everyone else.
---
Professor Alther barged into the dormitory hallway where Renn had last been seen. The air was cold, thick, like a mist of static wrapped around the walls.
He saw symbols etched in the floor—faint runes dancing in a spiral formation, glowing with violet shimmer.
A perception trap.
Alther recognized it too late.
The hallway snapped.
He fell backward, slammed into an invisible wall, and tumbled into a spiral of illusions so sharp, they sliced into his memory.
Lucien's voice echoed faintly.
"Some knowledge isn't meant for daylight."
---
At the core of the trap, Lucien stood perfectly still. Surrounded by a sphere of silence.
The breathing trap wasn't meant to kill. It was an exposure veil. Anyone who stepped inside saw illusions tailored to their fears, guilt, or hidden thoughts—then forgot they ever entered.
But Lucien had come to switch it off. It had done enough.
The message was clear:
Stop looking.
He turned, stepped out of the veil, and let it collapse behind him. A soft pop. A shimmer of air. Nothing remained.
Except Renn.
Curled in a corner. Conscious. Eyes wide.
"L-L-Lucien?" Renn stammered. "Was that... real?"
Lucien knelt beside him, not unkindly. "What did you see?"
Renn blinked. "I... I was back home. My sister. The fire. I couldn't stop it. I thought it was gone. That memory—"
Lucien didn't flinch. "Now it is."
He pressed a finger to Renn's forehead. A soft glow. A memory seal.
Renn collapsed into sleep.
Lucien stood.
Behind him, a presence rippled.
Seraphina Vale.
---
"How long have you been using him?" she asked.
Lucien didn't turn around. "Since day one."
"That's cruel."
"No. That's necessary."
"You made him see his worst memory just to teach everyone else a lesson."
Lucien turned now. Eyes unreadable.
"Better than them seeing mine."
She stepped closer. "What are you hiding?"
Lucien raised a hand—then stopped.
"You think you're brave, Vale. You're just... bored. You want a villain. A mystery. A dragon to slay."
She clenched her fists. "And you want to stay invisible. But you're not. Not anymore."
He smiled. Cold. Flat.
"Then stop chasing shadows, Seraphina. One day they'll chase back."
And with that, he vanished. Not teleported—just stepped out of view, as if the world had been instructed not to look.
Seraphina stood alone in the hallway, the echo of her heartbeat thudding too loud in her chest.
She didn't fear him.
Not yet.
But she feared what she might feel because of him.
And she hated that more than anything.
---
From the far edge of the academy, in the tower that no student was supposed to enter, a masked figure watched Lucien's movements through a rune-screen.
The Pale Sigil had taken notice.
"He activated the mental maze spell," a voice murmured. "Flawless execution."
Another voice answered. "Prepare the invitation."
"To recruit him?"
"To test him."
The screen flickered. Lucien's cold gaze snapped toward it—as if he saw them.
And for the first time, the masked figure stepped back.
---
The trap was over.
But the game had truly begun.