CHAPTER 94 — Exploring the academy(2)
The trio—Rowan, Sarina, and Ritvik—continued meandering through the sprawling corridors of the academy, marveling at the architecture of rooms and archive sections they had never visited before.
Eventually, their wandering brought them into a vast, vaulted hall whose walls were completely lined with polished wooden plaques and metallic honor boards.
Rowan stopped, blinking awkwardly as he stared up at the sheer volume of names carved into the displays. "Uh... what kind of room is this?"
Ritvik stared at him with a look of utter disbelief. "What—you don't know? Of course you wouldn't. Sometimes I genuinely forget you live under a rock."
Taking a dramatic deep breath, Ritvik adjusted his glasses.
"I have heard that, Here at Grand Aetherion, every single student who successfully reaches their final year has their name immortalized on these boards."
"I actually didn't know they kept permanent records like that," Sarina admitted quietly, folding her arms.
"Wait, even you didn't know?" Ritvik puffed out his chest, flashing a smug grin. "Ha! That officially makes me the only culturally literate member of this group."
Rowan ignored him, his eyes scanning the various plaques organized by graduating years. "Why do they even bother keeping all of these?"
"Well," Ritvik explained, dropping his smug tone for a more serious explanation."Making it to your final year at Grand Aetherion is no small feat. Think about how many students get weeded out or expelled annually. Surviving this place until senior year is practically a badge of honor."
Ritvik pointed at an old plaque hanging on the wall. "See that one even has Instructor Valeria's name along with Instructor Aiden and others."
As Rowan listened, his eyes drifted across the rows of names until they snagged on a plaque near the back. It looked significantly newer than the surrounding ones, but something else immediately drew his attention.
The board had been brutally vandalized. Splashes of thick black paint marred the wood, and a deep indentation near the center showed where someone had violently smashed a heavy object against the surface, spiderwebbing the material with cracks.
A specific name slot had been aggressively crossed out with a single, brutal streak of black paint, while another section showed the faint, fractured outlines of letters that someone had tried to physically chisel away.
The letters that remained visible read:
A◼️◼️D◼️n La◼️◼️wood.
Rowan froze. His breath hitched in his throat, his fingers twitching at his sides.
'Is... is this what I think it is?' Rowan thought, unconsciously reaching out a trembling finger toward the defaced plaque. "Why is this name completely ruined like this?"
Ritvik stepped closer, glanced at the vandalized board, and then turned to stare at Rowan as if he had just grown a second head. "You don't know about that either?"
"I mean... I..."
"Come on! Even if you grew up on a remote mountain, there's no way you missed the biggest scandal of last year! It hasn't even been a full year since it happened. It shook Grand Aetherion and the entire Mage Council to its core. Do you ever read a newspaper?" Ritvik exasperatedly waved his hands.
"What incident? What actually happened?" Rowan asked, his voice tighter than intended.
Ritvik let out a heavy sigh. "Have you ever heard of the Larkwood incident?"
"Larkwood? Yeah," Rowan replied instantly.
For a microsecond, Ritvik felt a wave of relief, thinking the conversation would finally be easy—until Rowan continued.
"Larkwood is a flexible, rare type of wood that can—"
"Oh, for the love of—shut up," Ritvik groaned, rubbing his temples.
Rowan clamped his mouth shut at the sudden outburst.
"I'm not talking about some forest tree." Ritvik said flatly.
"Larkwood was a person."
"Huh?"
"Arden Larkwood. That was his name."
Rowan felt the blood drain entirely from his face. Hearing that name sent a shockwave straight through his chest, but he forced his jaw to lock, desperately masking his expression to look as neutral as possible.
"Um... what did he do?" Rowan forced himself to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What didn't he do?" Ritvik scoffed bitterly.
"Bro literally assassinated a visiting councilman—Councilman Rethan—right here on academy grounds. On top of that, it came out that he was an active operative working directly with the dark mages. Who knows how many others he took out? Rethan's murder was just the one they caught him for, but everyone knows he must have been involved in other high-level killings."
"Why... why would he join the dark mages?" Rowan pressed, his heart pounding against his ribs.
"Hell if I know. People said he was a top-tier student; nobody in their right mind suspected him until it was too late. The real reason it blew up so badly was because he wasn't even the only first high-profile student exposed as a traitor. Word is, there was another dark mage who got to him and recruited him from the inside."
Rowan struggled to process the overwhelming influx of information. For months, he had been wandering blindly, desperate for any shred of information about his missing brother. And now, the truth was sitting right in front of him, carved into a broken plaque.
'I knew it,' Rowan thought, a grim realization settling deep in his stomach. 'There really were traces of Bhaiya here. I'm so glad I decided to explore the campus today.'
He also realized he needed to tread extremely carefully. The other students viewed this as a monstrous betrayal, and he couldn't afford to blow his cover. Right now, he had the best possible source of unfiltered information standing right next to him.
"What happened to him afterward?" Rowan asked casually.
"What do you think? After murdering a councilman, he went on the run. Rumor has it he fled straight to Umbrae, the capital of the dark mages territory."
Rowan swallowed hard, his throat dry. Now, for the first time, he had a terrifying, concrete possibility of where his brother might be.
Ritvik crossed his arms, staring at the ruined board with a scowl. "Man, I heard it was absolute hell back then. The students rioted, the public lost its mind, and every major House, Sanctum and Council faction tore Grand Aetherion apart over the security lapse. Some students were so angry that they barged this place and started breaking things, some of them must have taken their anger out on his plaque."
"Why do people choose to become dark mages?" Rowan asked quietly, his eyes fixed on the cracked wood.
Ritvik turned to look at him, surprised by the weight in Rowan's tone. "Well... people try to make it sound complicated, but at the end of the day, it usually boils down to a few things. Some do it for raw, forbidden power. Others are criminals on the run who need a safe haven. And a few are just radicals who despise the Council and want to burn the system down. Or maybe... it really is just that simple."
'So that's all, huh?' Rowan thought, lowering his head as a heavy shadow fell across his features. 'It's not much, but at least I finally have a roadmap. But... did Bhaiya really do something like that?'
He raised his head, staring directly at the vandalized name of his brother. The cracked wood seemed to mock him.
'Wait... Arden Larkwood? How did Bhaiya end up with a last name like—'
Suddenly, a deeply buried memory flashed vividly through Rowan's mind. It was from years ago, back when they were just kids living a peaceful, ordinary life with their parents in their modest home.
His father had been holding a piece of timber in the small family lumberyard, teaching the two boys.
"Alright, sons. Which wood do you think is the best kind?"
"Um... sandalwood?" young Arden had answered eagerly.
"Nope," their father had laughed.
"Uh... uh..." Rowan had raised his hand frantically.
"Yes, Rowan?"
"Bargad wood!"
"I mean... it's durable, sure, but it's not the best."
Rowan and Arden had exchanged puzzled glances before asking in unison, "Then what is it?"
"It's Larkwood."
"Larkwood?"
"Yeah. There are woods that excel in strength, and woods that excel in flexibility. But every ordinary wood can only be shaped into specific things—Soyn wood for furniture, sandalwood for fine perfumes. But Larkwood? It's known as the miracle timber. It's the only material in existence that can be molded into literally anything. Chairs, tables, weapons, intricate carvings... even refined into aromatic oils like sandalwood."
Their father had smiled warmly, patting their heads. "So do you understand? Larkwood is the greatest wood of all time, because it has the infinite potential to become anything it chooses to be."
Back in the present, Rowan closed his eyes and took a long, steadying breath.
'No. There is no way Bhaiya would just throw everything away like that. There has to be more to the story.'
While Rowan was lost in his thoughts, Sarina had been silently watching him. From the moment he and Ritvik started discussing the incident, she had kept her expression carefully neutral, but her sharp eyes analyzed every micro-expression on his face.
---
Out on the sunlit academy grounds, Seraphine was casually strolling across the academy grounds flanked by her two close friends, Selene and Marna.
"Ugh... when are they finally going to announce the next practical field trip?"
Seraphine complained, kicking a stray pebble across the path. "I'm dying of boredom in these regular lecture halls."
"I heard Instructor Elias mentioning that the classes is scheduled for an off-site practical trip later this week," Marna replied.
Seraphine's face lit up instantly. "Really?! Oh, thank goodness!"
As she walked, she approached a concrete public bench. Acting on a sudden impulse, she closed her eyes, spun around dramatically, and prepared to drop backward onto the seat in sheer theatrical fashion—only to freeze dead in mid-air.
Her eyes snapped wide open. She stared down at the bench, suspicious. Slowly, she crouched down, carefully inspecting the wooden slats, running her fingers underneath the frame, and even checking behind the backrest as if searching for an invisible explosive.
After a thorough sweep, a triumphant smile crossed her face.
'Thank goodness he isn't laying here this time.' Seraphine muttered to herself with immense relief.
Planting herself firmly on the bench, she threw her hands up. "So, where do you guys think they're going to drag us this time?"
Selene tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm... if rumors are true, I overheard someone saying they might take us near the alchemy city."
Crack.
Seraphine's lips twitched violently. Her bright, cheerful expression darkened in a millisecond, shifting into an intense cocktail of deep frustration.
Selene immediately noticed the sudden drop in temperature. "Sera? You okay?"
"I'm fine, Sele It's nothing," Seraphine muttered through clenched teeth.
"Ah, I'm sorry I—"
"Don't be. I told you it's nothing."
Seraphine dropped her head into her hands, looking ready to commit arson.
Before Selene could press further, a sudden sound shattered the air.
THUD!
Two flailing figures came crashing headfirst out of a second-story corridor window, tumbling violently onto the grass right beside the bench.
"You bastard. I have had enough of your shit. Why can't you keep your act together."
"Hey come on! just be honest, you are jealous because I have many girlfriends while you have none."
"Oh yeah, I'm going to wipe that smug grin right off your face, and then we'll see if your 'girlfriends' still want to hang out with you when you look like a trampled goblin!"
"Haha! Do your worst, but my girlfriends love me for my love, personality and emotional availability, not my face!"
"YOU TWO SHUT UP!" Seraphine roared, veins visibly popping on her forehead as she leaped off the bench.
"What on earth are you two idiots doing crashing into the middle of the ground?!"
Zephyr was currently pinned flat on his stomach against the grass, while Lyren sat squarely on top of his back, locking his legs down and gripping the back of Zephyr's neck with one hand. In his other hand, a glowing, sphere of compressed wind hummed with lethal intent.
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CHAPTER ENDS