Chapter 16: _ Tobin’s Group

Elira No-One

...

Bren’s eyes were darting around the quiet of the Sunken Arch.

"I’m telling you, it was an ambush that went wrong! He materialized out of nowhere. He would have killed us had he not tripped over his own feet."

"Ambush?" Miriel scoffed, dusting off the hem of her lavender skirt with dramatic, sweeping motions. "Bren, darling, did you look at him? The coat alone cost more than your entire Redmere village. He had the posture of a lord, and a face carved by the gods themselves. High nobility don’t set up ambushes in alleys for first-years. He was probably... lost. Or captivated."

"Captivated?" Bren’s jaw dropped. "He flew away like his tail was on fire! He looked terrified!"

"He looked flustered," Miriel insisted, crossing her arms. "There is a distinct difference."

I barely heard them. The argument buzzed in my ears like static. I closed my fingers tightly around the pin, slipping it deep into the pocket of my skirt.

It wasn’t just that he had appeared out of thin air. It was what had happened in my chest the moment his eyes met mine. It felt as though an invisible wire had snapped tight between us, jerking my soul toward his with a violence that made my ribs ache.

I didn’t know him. I had never seen a wolf shifter in my life before coming to the Concorded Realm. Yet, for a second, my body had recognized him with a certainty that terrified me.

Who are you? I thought, staring at the empty air where he had fallen. And why did you look at me like I belonged to you?

.

"Where the hell is Tobin?" I asked aloud, cutting through Miriel’s dramatic defense of the red-headed stranger.

Bren turned to me, her brow deeply furrowed. "That’s what I’ve been saying. The moth led us here, dissolved, and now we’re standing in an empty courtyard while mystery males drop out of the sky. This whole thing smells wrong, Elira."

Before I could reply, an iron gate to our left groaned.

Miriel immediately straightened, smoothing her hair and adjusting the sleeves of her dress. "See? That must be our cue. The support group is inside."

Bren didn’t move. Her hand remained close to the knife at her belt. "Or someone wants us inside."

Miriel rolled her eyes. "Bren, you think every shadow is a murderer."

"Because sometimes shadows are murderers."

"That is not a normal thing to say."

"It’s a very wise thing to say."

I sighed. "Can we argue after we find out whether Tobin’s group actually exists?"

Neither of them looked convinced, but they followed as I stepped through the open gate.

The passage beyond was narrow, descending deeper beneath Last Bastion. The walls were ancient stone with thick roots twisting through the cracks like the mountain was slowly reclaiming the structure.

The farther we walked, the quieter it became.

The main thoroughfares of Last Bastion had been filled with voices, magic, and movement. Even the abandoned corners of the Academy carried the distant echoes of students training or laughing.

Here, there was nothing. Only the sound of our footsteps.

"Still hate this," Bren muttered.

"You hate everything that involves trusting strangers," Miriel replied.

"I trust plenty of people."

"Name three."

Bren opened her mouth... then closed it.

Miriel smiled triumphantly. "Exactly."

I ignored them and continued following the path downward. Then I noticed a lantern sitting against the wall ahead.

It was a recently lit one. The flame inside still flickered.

I slowed down. "Tobin?"

My voice echoed down the corridor but there was no answer.

A few steps later, we found another sign that someone had been here.

A collection of wooden crates sat stacked beside the wall. Unlike the broken debris scattered around the passage, these were arranged neatly. A few were open, revealing blankets, food supplies, and rolled pieces of parchment.

Whew... This was a meeting place, not a dungeon or some trap. At least... not obviously.

Miriel relaxed a little. "See? They have supplies. This is clearly an organized group. Bren’s just..." She scoffed. "Gods help that girl."

Bren crouched beside one of the crates, examining it carefully. "Maybe."

She picked up one of the blankets. "This isn’t old."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means someone was here recently."

A small spark of hope flickered. Maybe Tobin wasn’t lying. Maybe the group really existed.

Maybe this was simply where students who didn’t belong gathered away from the powerful families.

We continued deeper. The passage eventually opened into a large underground chamber. And for a moment, I understood why Tobin had chosen it.

It wasn’t beautiful, but it was practical.

There were benches carved from old wood. A long table sat in the center covered with maps, books, and handwritten notes. Several empty cups rested near the edge, as if people had just left moments ago.

There were even symbols painted onto the walls. Dozens of them. Seemed like names of initiates. People who had apparently joined this group before us.

Miriel stepped closer, nodding. "They really do exist."

Bren remained cautious. "Or someone wants us to think they do."

I looked around the room. The evidence was everywhere. This wasn’t some random abandoned place.

Someone had built this. Someone had maintained it. Someone had gathered people here.

"Tobin?" I called again, louder this time. "It’s Elira. We followed the guide."

Silence answered.

I frowned. "Maybe he’s running late."

Bren looked toward the entrance. "Or maybe he wanted us to walk all the way in before showing himself."

Before I could respond–

CLANG.

The sound shattered the silence like a thunderclap.

We all whirled around. The iron gate at the top of the ramp had slammed shut. A loud click echoed down the stone corridor.

"What the–" I gasped, eyes blowing wide.

Bren bolted back up the ramp, throwing her weight against the rusted bars. They didn’t budge. She kicked the lock, sending a shower of sparks across her boots, but the iron remained immovable.

"It’s sealed! Magically locked from the outside!"

Miriel, who has been trying to feign composure since the moment we stepped into those gates, dropped her hairbrush. "What do you mean locked? Why would they lock us in? Is this part of the initiation test?"

"No," Bren hissed, descending the ramp with her blade raised. "I knew coming here was a terrible idea. I knew it."

A light, cheerful voice drifted down from the darkness above us. "Indeed, you are quite perceptive, Dragon girl. A bit paranoid, perhaps, but certainly wise."

I looked up.

Sitting casually on a swinging vine fifteen feet above the flagstones was Tobin.

He didn’t look like the timid, overwhelmed Sylven boy I had met at the Concourse assembly. He was no longer in that oversized green tunic. He was now wearing a dark, sleeveless leather vest lined with iron studs.

His dark-silver peppered hair was pulled back tightly, framing a sharp face that held no trace of his previous nervousness.

"Tobin?" I took a step forward, my hand tightening into a fist. "What is this? Where is the group?"