CHAPTER 95: AWAKE AT LAST

The knock on the heavy oak door came soft, respectful.

Osiris Lawless looked up from the stack of unfinished reports on his desk, irritation flashing briefly across his cold eyes.

"Enter," he said.

The door creaked open, and an agent stepped inside, the silver badge of the Investigation Authority gleaming faintly on his cloak.

He bowed, then extended a sealed document. "Lord Lawless. Lord Rowe intercepted them, just like you predicted. This is the report of the battle."

Osiris leaned forward, taking it with his eyes shining with eagerness. He broke the seal with the edge of a knife, spreading the parchment across his desk.

His eyes flicked over the words, tracing every detail. The ambush on the carriage, the clash between Rowe’s men and Academy staff, the sighting of the cloaked woman, the use of flame spells, the sudden teleportation.

As he read, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. By the time he was done, a quiet laugh slipped out, dark and satisfied.

"So," he murmured to himself, "it worked."

The agent shifted uneasily. "My lord?"

Osiris leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "All I needed was a lead. I let the boy loose, and like the rat he is, he scurried towards the rest of his nest. Now we only need to find the cloaked woman who spirited him away." His eyes gleamed. "And then, through her, the entire web of traitors will unravel at my feet."

The agent lowered his head. "Shall I give the order, my lord?"

Osiris nodded. "Yes. I want dossiers on every female staff member of the Royal Academy. Every professor, every assistant, every clerk with so much as a drop of fire affinity. Leave nothing out."

The man bowed low. "At once."

When the agent left, Osiris rose from his chair and strode to the window.

From his tower office, the capital stretched beneath him, alive with movement and light. Yet all he could see in his head was what the cloaked woman could look like.

Whoever she was, she had interfered. She had stolen from him. And no one stole from Osiris Lawless.

Half an hour later, the door opened again. The same agent returned, this time with a heavy stack of folders bound in string. He placed them on Osiris’s desk, bowed, and withdrew silently.

Osiris wasted no time. He untied the stack and began leafing through them.

Each folder bore a name, a face, a history. Professor Liora Vantine. Fire affinity, C-rank. Specializes in ritual magic. He pushed it aside.

Madame Kaelis. Clerk. Fire affinity minor. Worthless. Folder after folder, he scanned them all, crossing off names, eliminating the weak, the unimportant.

Then his fingers froze.

He lifted the next folder, eyes narrowing as the name leapt off the page. His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. Could it be...

"Princess Cecilia." He read aloud.

He opened the file, skimming the records. Royal blood. Direct descendant of the crown. A professor of the Academy. Skilled, decorated, with a suspiciously sparse record of personal failings. Fire affinity, high control.

Osiris leaned back in his chair, laughter rolling softly from his chest. "Well now," he whispered, "things just became much more interesting."

He closed the folder with a snap, his mind already spinning. If Cecilia was involved, this was no longer a matter of a rogue professor meddling with matters beyond her reach. This could be a matter of rebellion, or even better, the crown itself dipping its hands into the dirt.

Osiris tapped the folder against his palm, eyes gleaming. "Noah Webb, you’ve brought me a treasure far greater than you realize. If she’s your savior, then Camelot’s precious little princess is part of this conspiracy."

He set the folder down, his expression hardening into iron. "And if she is part of this... then I hold a blade to the throat of the royal family itself."

Osiris sat in silence for a long moment, savoring the revelation. Then he rang the silver bell on his desk. His assistant rushed in.

"Place a detail on Professor Cecilia of the Royal Academy. Have her watched." Osiris ordered, sliding the folder across the desk. "Every step she takes, every breath she draws. I want her shadow mapped. But not a word of this escapes these walls. Understood?"

The assistant bowed low. "As you command, my lord."

When the door closed, Osiris remained alone, staring at the single name on the folder. His smile returned, looking hungry.

"Princess Cecilia." He murmured. "I hope it’s you."

"And if it is... let’s see how brightly your fire burns... before I snuff it out."

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Noah’s eyes fluttered open slowly, the feeling of exhaustion pressing down on every fiber of his body.

His throat burned like sandpaper, so dry it hurt just to breathe. He tried to swallow, but the rasp that escaped was no more than a croak.

"Water..." he whispered.

Cool hands steadied his head, tilting it gently. A glass was pressed to his lips, and he drank greedily, the liquid soothing but never enough.

He coughed as it trickled down too fast, but the hands held him steady until the glass was taken away.

"There now," a voice said softly. "Better?"

Noah blinked, his vision still foggy. He forced himself upright, the motion making his head spin. His arms trembled as he tried to balance, but he managed to sit up against the headboard.

He rubbed his eyes, looking toward the blurry figure beside the bed. "What... what happened?"

The figure didn’t answer directly. Instead, the voice, familiar, calm, asked, "What’s the last thing you remember, Noah?"

Noah frowned, mind sluggish. "I... I woke up in my dorm," he muttered, the words tumbling out like half-formed thoughts.

"It was the seventh day of the week. I had plans with Arlo. We... we were going to..." He trailed off, blinking in confusion. His chest tightened as if something he could not see was sitting down on it.

The figure set the glass on the small table by his bed. "Good. Keep going. What came next?"

Noah’s lips parted, but the words caught in his throat. A sudden prickle of unease ran down his spine.

His eyes darted toward the person he’d been speaking with, searching their face, but shadows hid it. Something was wrong.

The door opened with a soft creak. A nurse entered briskly, her white apron neat and her hair tucked back. "Oh, you’re awake!" She said brightly. Then her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Who were you speaking with, Mr. Webb?"

Noah turned slowly, raising a shaky hand to point. "I was speaking to them..."

But the chair beside his bed was empty. The glass still sat on the table, the surface damp with condensation... yet there was no one to be seen.

His breath hitched. The silence pressed against his ears, and then...

The memories hit him.