Chapter 6: The Bait and the Blade

Lucien Drex was asleep.

Not in his bed.

In the forbidden east tower attic, balanced atop a crate of confiscated spell scrolls, limbs hanging like lazy vines. He'd been there for three hours. Maybe four. The sun was somewhere, probably.

Below him, three Prefects argued in hushed tones.

"We should arrest him. He's clearly—"

"Do you want to explain to Elenora why the sigil network in Hall E7 just collapsed?"

"...Let's wait."

Lucien didn't stir. Not yet.

His trap was still ripening.

---

It had started earlier, when he handed Renn a sealed envelope during breakfast.

"Give this to Marcus Vale," he mumbled without looking up from his boiled egg.

Renn blinked. "Shouldn't you—?"

Lucien's fork lifted. "Do I look like someone who delivers threats?"

Renn gulped. "It's a threat?"

"Depends how smart Marcus is."

---

The Letter:

> "You're right to think I cheated. But you're wrong to think it matters. Let's meet at the Old Dueling Chamber. Midnight. No audience. No rules. Come alone, or pretend to."

—Inkshade."

Marcus's fist crumpled the letter. "He thinks he can bait me?"

Yes. Yes, he did.

---

Lucien eventually woke, stretched like a cat, and wandered out of the attic by dusk. He scribbled notes into his sigil journal, humming off-key.

He passed Seraphina on the stairs.

She stared. "Did you send Marcus a challenge letter?"

Lucien blinked. "Did I?"

"He's gathering people."

Lucien rubbed his eyes. "People are always gathering. That's why I don't."

She blocked his way. "Are you trying to die?"

Lucien looked her dead in the eyes. "I'm trying to be left alone. If someone dies in the process, that's not my fault."

Seraphina hesitated. "You think you can take them all?"

"I think they're all more interested in beating who they think I am."

"And who are you?"

He leaned in, just close enough. "Tired."

Then walked past her.

---

Midnight.

Marcus arrived first, flanked by two cloaked duelists and a half-awake Chronomancer.

The Old Dueling Chamber was circular, collapsed in places, roofed by hanging vines and cracked mirrors. Spell residue lingered like dust.

They waited.

And waited.

Until Marcus growled. "He's not coming."

That's when the sigils bloomed.

Not from the ground. Not from the walls.

From their shadows.

Each shadow stretched, elongated, then flipped—like pages being turned. Glyphs burned along the floor. Two of the duelists screamed.

Mirror traps.

Illusion loops.

One of them thought they were fighting Lucien.

The other thought their teammate had betrayed them.

They attacked each other instantly.

Marcus turned—and saw himself.

Or rather, a projection: Lucien, arms folded, half-asleep in posture.

"I didn't come here to fight," the illusion said.

"Then what is this?" Marcus roared.

Lucien's projection smiled. "A lesson."

Then the floor glowed with a final glyph: "Sleep."

Marcus dropped like a bag of stone.

---

Back in his room, Lucien tossed a rock at Renn's head.

"Wake up. You're drooling."

Renn sat up. "Whuh—?"

"You're about to be questioned by Prefect Sylen. When you lie, scratch your neck twice. When I lie, I just lie better."

Renn's eyes widened. "Why are they coming?"

Lucien held up a parchment with Marcus's name scribbled in reversed ink. "Because someone thought they understood traps."

"Didn't you set them up?"

Lucien yawned. "I set options. What people walk into is their choice."

A knock came. Three slow taps.

Lucien smiled. "You'll want to look scared now."

Renn looked terrified.

---

Later that night, Seraphina stood in the Old Chamber.

It was empty. Clean. Like nothing had ever happened.

Except one thing remained:

A sigil on the mirror wall.

Not Pale Sigil.

Not Lucien's glyph.

Just one phrase:

"Inkshade: Still Not Interested."

She stared at it long after the candles died.

She hated him.

She hated how much she needed to know him.

And somewhere far below, deep within the hidden library, the Pale Sigil's second glyph flared into life.

> "Subject Drex has baited an upper-class ranking trap and bypassed known protocols."

"Permission to initiate Observer-Class Assignment?"

A masked figure nodded in the shadows.

"Assign it. Let Caelum watch him next."

---

Lucien was already asleep again.

He hadn't moved all day.

But by morning, half the Academy would swear he had fought and won a secret war.

And he wouldn't even remember what day it was.