The Horde’s upstairs room still smelled faintly of Kael’s lingering smell after spending most of the last couple of days up there and Wade’s celebratory cologne — something floral and smug.
They had sprawled memory-based diagrams and maps across the crooked table, both leaning in close, candlelight dancing over their shadows. Wade’s hair was a mess from running his hands through it too many times, and Kael was hunched forward, coat half-off, marking his third or fourth backup route with a dull chalk stub.
“You’re sure they return the Affinity files the same day?” Kael asked, voice low as they sat tucked into the back booth of the Horde Inn, half a pitcher between them.
Wade nodded, pushing aside his half-eaten bread. “Every single one. Security’s tighter before the reveals — when the files are sealed. Once the students have viewed their reports, the Academy assumes there’s no more reason to guard them like they’re gold. From what I’ve heard all records of graduated students get moved to some vault the academy has.”
Kael leaned forward. “So how’s it work?”
“The records hall is protected by the Hall Warden — that floating librarian-ghost thing? It doesn’t guard during this time, it escorts. Faculty bring the files they need for the day to the rune hall atrium where the Warden protects the files, students are cycled in for reveal sessions, and then the Warden escorts them back into archive lockup right after dinner. It's about a 3-hour window. Tops.”
Kael sat back. “And that’s when no one’s watching?”
“No one with any authority, at least. The professors are gone, students are celebrating or getting quietly drunk, and the rest of the staff assumes everything’s automated.” Wade smirked. “Because it usually is.”
Kael considered it, turning the idea over in his mind like a coin. “You said the records aren’t physical?”
“They’re hybrids. Arcane-scribed but placed inside lead-bound tomes. You don’t get to keep your actual Affinity chart — they file it and lock it. They make a copy of it for graduates but the real ones all go back to the same spot. I was in the first day of reveals so we have maybe a day more if I had to guess. I only went once but any student can enter the hall, only every other second of the year the hall Specter is there and gets whatever it is you need.”
Kael tapped the table twice. “How do I even get into the Academy? They took my credentials.”
And so they made a plan, after much deliberation they finally arrived on the most logical and likely option.
Six of them stumbled toward the side gate — a riot of laughter, slurred curses, and the rhythmic clatter of shoes that didn’t quite follow straight lines. Wade led the group, arm thrown over a half-conscious student from the House of Yarre, muttering something about missed curfews and “blessings of final-year freedom.”
Kael was in the center — hood up, body tilted just enough to mimic a staggering drunk, eyes half-lidded and mouth twitching in a dumb grin. He clutched a bottle of cheapfire gin and leaned on a tall, silent kid from Thalor who owed Wade some long-ago favor and had agreed to serve as temporary scaffolding.
Wade and Kael had both agreed to tell the others that they were helping Kael sneak in because in his expulsion they didn’t let him grab some of his research. And if worst came to worst that would be what Wade would say in his interrogation.
The guards at the side gate didn’t even blink. Academy students partying before graduation was a tradition older than most of the teachers. They all just showed their IDs while Kael acted too drunk to even stand.
Wade flashed his sigil. “Just getting him to bed, friends. Can’t have him puking in the food hall tomorrow, right?”
A tired guard waved them in. “Just keep it quiet.”
The next day, by the time the third group of seniors getting their affinities revealed were lining up, Kael and Wade were already moving.
They’d crept through servant tunnels Wade had used once in his third year to sneak a noble’s daughter back to her dorm. The passages smelled of dust and old candlewax, when they finally emerged into the east corridor — three levels above the archive room — the halls were dim, the flame-sconces burning low and slow with enchanted efficiency.
Sneaking down the near-abandoned stairwell, they finally arrived at the entrance to the Archive Hall. The door wasn’t flashy. Thick oak bound in enchanted steel, etched with the Aetherian sigil of recordkeeping — a scroll, flanked by binding chains.
Kael approached first before Wade quickly pulled him back.
“Remember,” Wade murmured. “The lock's tied to mana signature. They only let students in, you bum.”
He placed his palm on the center of the door, and after a heartbeat, the sigil pulsed gently. The chains shimmered.
Click.
The door unlatched.
Kael exhaled as he saw a completely empty desk stood at the entrance and behind, rows of hovering books, not a shelf in sight. Just slow-turning tomes drifting in arcane stasis, indexed by glowing runes above them.
Wade pointed. “Mana affinity charts are stored in the second circle…I think. We’ve got maybe an hour left.”
They moved carefully, eyes scanning the hall, minutes later they reached the second circle. Kael held his hand up to what looked like a podium, releasing his mana into the podium since he didn’t have a badge anymore. The rune plate hovered, flickered, and released a single sealed file, bound in some strange mana casing that prevented him from reading anything on the scroll except for the top which had his name on it: Kael Virelyn.
Kael stepped forward and took it from the air with shaking fingers.
“This is it,” he whispered.
But before he could try to open it —“Gods-damned, who wards floating books—?”
Thadon Merrow’s voice pitched up mid-swear as he rounded the far pillar and caught sight of Kael Virelyn.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
He froze, his eyes wide and mouth half-open, like his brain hadn’t quite caught up to what he was seeing.
Kael gave him a single nod, cool and quiet. “Thadon.”
Wade, less subtle, muttered, “Of all the fucking people…”
Thadon blinked. “You—You’re supposed to be expelled.”
Kael smiled, tight-lipped. “I am.”
“Then why the fuck are you in the archive?” Thadon asked, hands twitching like he was trying to decide whether to raise his voice or bolt.
Kael took a slow step forward. “That depends. Why are you here, Merrow?”
Thadon looked between them, sweat starting to bead under his collar. He glanced up at one of the ink-ravens circling lazily overhead, as if remembering where they were — then stepped close, voice lowering.
“I… I needed to find my health record.”
Kael narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“That’s none of your—”
Wade cut in. “Thadon.”
The silence after the name was sharp. Thadon’s shoulders sank as he sighed and rubbed his face.
“I found out… during the mandatory check-ups, the ones before the Affinity test back in the second year. They… ran a full scan. Turns out I’ve got a defect.”
Kael didn’t say anything, but Wade raised an eyebrow.
“What kind of defect?”
Thadon’s jaw clenched. “It doesn’t fucking matter! It’s not public, but…”
Kael’s brow furrowed.
Wade whistled low. “That gets released with your student profile.”
Thadon nodded, shame radiating off him.
“Who paid your tuition?” Kael asked, already guessing.
“My father,” Thadon muttered. “And if he sees it, he’ll disown me. My entire future is tied to inheritance and continuing the bloodline. That file hits his desk after graduation, and I’m done.”
Kael and Wade exchanged a glance. A silent understanding passed between them: this isn’t just scandal — it’s leverage.
Kael stepped closer, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“Here’s the deal. You help us get what we came for, and we’ll help you… lose a page or two. I hope you have an idea of how to remove this ward around them.”
Thadon hesitated.
Kael leaned in, and let the words drip cold:
“Or I could walk out of here tonight, find your father’s courier, and hand them a report on what you’ve been pumping into your bloodstream the last two years.”
Thadon’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine.”
The health wing was harder to reach — marked with tight arcane wards, Thadon, guided by panic and parental terror, did just fine.
Kael and Wade stood watch while he scoured the entries, eventually pulling his own sealed record and muttering small obscenities as he found the section he needed.
“Gods, they even listed the spell reagents used in the examination. Why do they need—ugh.” He pulled a pen from his coat and used the end to tap the enchantment seal — it blinked twice, and a sliver of the page flickered, then cleanly vanished.
Wade blinked. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
Thadon gave him a tired, rich-boy smile. “Oh, you little peasant, so silly thinking rules apply to people like me. Do you think I would come in here without a plan? You realize the wards on these records couldn’t be broken by likely even a fifth circle mage right? Wait, hold on, if I wasn’t here…holy shit you actually thought you two would be able to get past Academy defenses?”
Kael was going to interject but held his tongue, instead opting to look Wade in the eyes with a deadpan expression on his face.
“What? Do you think I knew what I was talking about? It's not like I make it a habit of stealing Academy documents!” Wade answered the look.
“Ready?” Thadon asked, losing patience.
Kael nodded and drew a shallow breath. Handing over the warded scroll, Thadon pressed his badge against the scroll ward and it dissipated leaving the document unrolled.
Affinity Report: Virelyn, Kael
Date of Recording: Year 1039 AS
Candidate Status: Fourth-Year, Incomplete Graduation
Spiral Maturity Level at Time of Test: First Ring
Primary Affinity:
Decay (Ethereal Affinity)
– Classification: Variant
– Mana interaction: High absorption rate, minimal feedback. Spiral is confirmed.
– Curriculum Recommendation: Prohibited under standard instruction. Faculty authorization is required for private guidance. Additional semester advised per Ethereal protocol
Secondary Affinity:
Earth (Elemental Affinity)
– Noted for structural enhancement, terrain shaping, material reinforcement.
– Compatibility with Primary Affinity: Noted synergy in erosion/breakdown cycles.
Tertiary Resonance Indicator:
[Undeclared]
– Status: Subthreshold Detected – No Attunement
– Spiral Response: Insufficient resonance density to sustain a third-tier affinity thread
– Comment: Candidate displays high absorption and integration into primary affinity. Excessive focus may have inhibited resonance flexibility.
Total Affinity Imprint Score: 96/100
Noted as extreme resonance stability with Decay-type spell matrices.
Candidate exhibited accelerated Spiral response to mana-based glyph structures and non-temporal weakening fields.
Supplementary Affinity Markers:
19 latent affinity threads detected;
Full list appended under classified subfile: Faculty Access Only.
“Decay?” Wade breathed looking over Kaels shoulder. “Holy shit you lucky bastard! An ethereal affinity!”
Thadon leaned in. “So… you’re a walking rust plague. Charming. Makes sense I guess.”
Kael ignored him. The mana within his body thrummed differently now — like reading the word had triggered something asleep in his soul.
“Wade,” Kael said. “One more favor.”
Wade groaned. “You said one.”
Kael didn’t look at him. “I need everything you can find in the Academy on Decay magic. Whatever you can find.”
Wade sighed, but he nodded.
A whisper touched the boys mana sense. A shift in the pressure of the room. The subtle flicker of ambient wards returning to their default states. The archivist was coming back.
“Put everything back,” Kael hissed, already moving. “Now.”
Wade fumbled with the scrolls, helping seal Kael's Affinity file and shoving it back into its stasis ring. Thadon nearly dropped his badge, muttering curses as he slapped it into the crystal plate. The room pulsed once with artificial calm — records resetting, lights dimming as everything was securely back in place.
Wade turned to Kael. “We good?”
“No,” Kael muttered, already scanning the room. His eyes caught a structural column carved with old dueling crests. A tight shadow at the base, just deep enough to vanish behind.
“I can’t be here,” he said.
Out of the corner of Kaels eyes he cold make out, a woman-shaped construct of pure mana, woven with chain-script robes and a quill hovering like a dagger beside her head. Her eyes glowed white, no pupils. Her voice was emotionless but loud enough to slap the bones of anyone nearby into guilt.
“Unauthorized access is grounds for expulsion, sanctions, and immediate memory rewrite,” she intoned, voice echoing throughout the halls.
Wade and Thadon stood frozen.
Kael crouched behind the pillar, and whispered harshly: “Take off some of your godsdamned clothes.”
Wade blinked.
Thadon whispered back, horrified, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re not going to lie your way out of this. So don’t. Make her assume. You were somewhere you shouldn’t be — doing something you shouldn’t be doing.”
Wade’s eyes lit up. “We make it worse than it is.”
Kael nodded, already pressing himself deeper into the shadow. “Go. I’ll be gone before the silence lifts.”
Thadon opened his mouth to protest.
“No time,” Kael snapped. “Either you two were fucking, or we’re all fucked.”
Wade groaned, but he tugged his coat half-off, loosened his collar, and ran his hands through his hair like he’d been slammed into a wall.
Thadon sputtered in disgust causing his spiral to flare up, “You want me to pretend—?”
“Shut. Up,” Kael hissed.
That was when the Archivist turned.
She floated forward, robes gliding over the floor without touching it. Heading to the place where she felt the disturbance. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the disheveled state of the two students — coats half-undone, hair a wreck, Wade holding the side of his neck like he’d just been bitten.
Thadon tried to talk.
“T-this isn’t what it looks li—”
“Silence,” the Archivist snapped.
A glyph flared in the air — a ring of pale blue light — and their voices cut off mid-word.
She looked at them like one might look at stains on a book.
“I will personally escort you to the Headmaster,” she said, disgust curling under the flatness of her tone. “This is a place of knowledge. Not a place for hormonal misfires.”
Thadon turned a deeper shade of crimson than Kael thought physically possible.
Wade just shrugged, playing into the shame. As they were marched toward the stairwell, Kael crept from the shadows. The moment the Archivist turned the corner with her unwilling parade, he moved.
