"Heroes save people because it’s the right thing to do. I save people because dead protagonists make for boring stories. We are not the sa."
***
The tiline was screaming at .
Every second that passed brought us closer to the mont when the Morgenthorne family’s sabotage would kick in. Support beams would crack. Ceilings would fall. Rhys and his team would be trapped in a section that was about to beco a mass grave.
The protagonist would arrive dramatically to save the day. That was how the story was supposed to go. He would rescue the survivors. He would be celebrated as a hero. And Rhys Blackwood, the commoner with the spear and the sick sister, would die off-screen. A footnote in soone else’s journey. A sacrifice to fuel character developnt for a guy who didn’t need it.
Not today.
But I couldn’t just announce my knowledge and lead a rescue mission. That would expose everything I’d worked to hide. The pathetic coward Kaelen Leone couldn’t suddenly transform into a tactical genius without raising questions I couldn’t answer.
I had to maneuver my team into position without revealing that I knew exactly what was about to happen.
Fun tis.
"Maybe we should check on them," I said. "I an, if they’re in trouble and we could help... That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Help each other? As a... as a team?"
I gazed up at Marcus with deliberately wide, anxious eyes, blinking rapidly as though fighting back tears of fear. My entire posture scread reluctant sacrifice—the performative bravery of soone who expected to be dismissed and was secretly counting on it.
"Your manual says sothing about that, doesn’t it?" I pressed gently, voice cracking at just the right mont. "About working together? Supporting our fellow... um... House mbers?"
Marcus hesitated, his expression contorting beautifully. I could practically see the gears grinding in his head, caught in the perfect trap between his instinctive desire to dismiss anything I suggested and his inability to argue against the fundantal academy principle I’d so innocently invoked.
Co on, you rule-following nerd. Take the bait. The manual is practically your religious text. You can’t resist its sacred commandnts.
"That’s surprisingly brave of you, Kaelen," Seraphina said, her soft voice carrying an undercurrent I didn’t entirely like.
Sothing in her tone made look at her more carefully.
Her grey eyes held a knowing glint. She was studying again. Building her little ntal file. And she was smiling. Just slightly. Just enough to tell she found sothing amusing about all this.
She knows I’m acting.
She might not know what I really am. But she knows I’m not what I pretend to be. And she’s watching to see what I’ll do next.
Fantastic. Just what I needed. A suspicious beauty with observation skills.
The sound of combat grew louder. Sowhere in that darkness, Rhys Blackwood was fighting for his life against enemies he couldn’t see while a death trap ticked toward activation around him. His spear would be flashing in the torchlight. His earth magic would be throwing up barriers and traps.
And it wouldn’t be enough.
Nothing he could do would be enough, because the danger wasn’t the enemies he could see. The danger was the ceiling waiting to fall on his head.
Marcus closed his manual with obvious reluctance. The leather cover snapped shut. His face showed the internal struggle of a man whose entire worldview was being challenged, but who couldn’t quite bring himself to ignore soone in need.
There it is. The conscience wins.
"If we’re going to do this, we need to be smart about it," he said finally. His voice had regained so authority, though resignation tinged the edges. "The maintenance tunnel is narrow and potentially unstable. We’ll be vulnerable if we encounter hostile forces. We should proceed in formation, with weapons ready."
Translation: I don’t want to do this, but I can’t say no without looking like a jerk.
"Then we’ll have to be careful," I said. I was already moving toward the leftmost passage. "And hope we’re not too late."
The words tasted prophetic. We had forty-five minutes. Maybe less. Ti enough to reach Rhys if we moved quickly. Ti enough to pull him out before the collapse began.
Ti enough to rewrite a death scene that the narrative had already scripted.
No pressure or anything.
As we entered the maintenance tunnel, I felt the familiar weight of stolen ti pressing down on . Every step took us closer to a confrontation that would test everything I’d learned about manipulation, deception, and the art of appearing weak while orchestrating salvation.
The stone walls closed in around us. The phosphorescent moss grew thinner here. Less light. More shadows gathering in corners and crevices.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching.
Behind , I could hear Seraphina’s footsteps. Not following the group’s rhythm. Matching mine specifically. Her breath was quiet. Controlled. The breath of soone paying very close attention.
Stop that. Stop matching my pace. It’s creepy.
She was studying my movents with the sa intensity she’d applied to the ancient warning symbols. Every step I took was being recorded. Every gesture filed away. She was building a case on Kaelen Leone, and I suspected she wouldn’t rest until she understood the gap between what I showed the world and what I really was.
She knows sothing. The question is how much. And what she plans to do about it.
The tunnel curved to the right, forcing us to slow down as visibility dropped. Marcus’s torch cast jumping shadows across walls that seed to press closer with each step.
The sounds of combat grew clearer.
I could make out individual voices now. Shouts of warning. Cries of pain. The ring of tal on stone and the deeper thud of earth magic being channeled through desperate hands.
And underneath it all, a rumbling.
Low. Constant. I could feel it in my teeth more than hear it with my ears.
The mountain was waking up. The supports were starting to fail.
We have less ti than I thought.
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