Chapter 27: _ I Know Who The Red-Haired Stalker is

"I like you, Initiate. You ask the most competent questions. Your friends are busy panicking or pointing fingers, but you look straight for the wire." Clement smiled at Bren.

"There is indeed a catch. But it is not a trap set by me—it is a necessity. I do not want you three to sit in your dorms like frightened mice waiting for a cat to pounce. I don’t just want you to wait for the Sylven to hunt you. I want you to help me hunt him."

Miriel let out a squeak, but Clement held up a single finger to silence her before she could break into another monologue.

"Since Tobin is Sylven and ultimately Fae, he operates within the social strictures of his clan," Clement explained. "To catch him cleanly, we need an event where all the faction academies converge on neutral ground. Luckily for us, tomorrow night is the Initiation Gala."

Bren crossed her arms. "The ball?"

"Yes. Since every high-blood, commoner, and initiate across the Dragon, Wolf, Lion, Tiger, and Fae Academies is required to attend. Tobin will be there. Predators of his nature cannot resist a crowd—it provides too many potential targets and too much cover."

His gaze flicked across our terrified faces. "If you spot him in the ballroom tomorrow, do not engage... simply observe. Try to find out the names of his associates and if possible, his specific dorm sector in the Fae Academy. Bring those details to me, and my Wardens will handle the arrest."

"And if he comes for us first? If he corners us before we can even find his dorm?" I couldn’t help but ask.

Clement’s pale eyes flicked to me. "If you come into direct contact with him, you do not fight. You say two words: ’Cinder Fall.’ Say them clearly. My hidden guard detail will be blended into the crowd and the architecture around you. The moment those words leave your mouth, they will drop the veil and eliminate the threat."

"This sounds completely insane!" Miriel burst out, clutching her dirty skirts. "It’s dangerous! I’m a noble-line initiate! I didn’t come to Last Bastion to be a decoy for a core-stealing monster! I don’t think I can do this!"

My fists clenched at my sides, my nails biting into my palms. The memory of Tobin’s rough hands and the weight of him pressing against me, trying to claim what was never his to claim flashed through my mind.

The humiliation of being pinned, powerless, waiting to be destroyed... it burned a hole straight through my fear.

I wasn’t going to hide in a corner and weep. I wanted blood.

"We accept." I blurted.

"Elira!" Miriel and Bren chorused, both turning to stare at me in absolute shock.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Miriel gasped.

I didn’t look at Miriel. I kept my gaze locked directly on Head Warden Clement. "It’s hunt or be hunted. I am not going to sit around acting like prey ever again. If that green bastard steps near me, I want to be the one who punches him in the face before your guards tear him apart."

Clement nodded."Spoken like someone who intends to survive this place."

"Hold on," Bren interjected, stepping between Clement and me. "My uncle worked in the outer perimeters for six years. He gave me one rule before I packed my bags for the Bastion: Never trust the school authorities. You’re playing a political game, Commander. How do we know we aren’t just collateral damage if your little trap goes sideways?"

Clement didn’t look offended. Instead, he took a step closer to Bren. He reached out and lightly brushed his gloved fingers over the back of her hand.

"Your uncle sounds like a wise man, Initiate. Authority is often corrupt. But you can definitely trust me."

Bren froze, staring at his hand on hers. For a second, I thought I noticed a strange softness pass between them.

I blinked, quickly brushing the thought aside. No way, I thought to myself. Bren was the most grounded, cynical person among us. She looked like the type who would literally die before getting dragged into an infatuation, especially with the Head Warden.

It was just stress playing tricks on my eyes.

Bren pulled her hand back, though her cheeks bore a slight flush. "Just keep your guards close, Commander."

"Always."

Clement straightened his shoulders and clapped his hands together twice. A second later, the door swung open wide.

Three stern-faced female Wardens marched into the cell in double-time. Each of them carried a velvet-wrapped garment bag and a wooden jewelry box. Without a word of fluff, they set the items down on the stone bench in front of us.

Clement gestured toward the bags. "If you are to draw out a predator at a high-society event, you must look the part. The Academy has provided appropriate attire for you for tomorrow evening. You are expected to stand out."

He offered us a polite bow of his head. "Happy partying, ladies."

The moment Clement stepped out into the hallway, Miriel’s terrifying ordeal seemed to instantly evaporate from her mind. She lunged toward the wooden boxes like a starved wolf, unzipping the nearest garment bag with a loud gasp.

"Is that... silk-woven dragon-thread?!" Miriel squealed, her previous terror completely forgotten as she ran her fingers over an emerald-and-gold gown. "Look at the beadwork! Oh, praise the Flame God, this is real sapphire trim!"

Bren rolled her eyes hard enough to hurt, though she picked up her own red-and-black garment bag with a reluctant sigh. "Unbelievable. Two hours ago we were almost murdered, and now you’re drooling over thread counts."

"A lady of quality respects proper craftsmanship, Bren!" Miriel huffed, clutching the emerald dress to her chest with a look of pure reverence.

"Movement," the lead female Warden commanded from the doorway. "We are escorting you back to the West Annex dormitories. Gather your belongings."

.

The walk back across the Academy grounds was silent and tense, shadowed by the heavy footfalls of our Warden escort. The night air was blowing thick mountain fog across the cobblestone thoroughfares.

As we turned down the path leading to the lower-tier dormitories, Bren finally broke the silence, keeping her voice low so the guards wouldn’t report us.

"I need a drink," Bren muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. "I need a strong, illegal drink. Can we just pause and review the absolute insanity of our first thirty-six hours at Last Bastion?"

"Please don’t," Miriel grumbled, though she was still cradling her dress box like a newborn child.

"No, seriously," Bren insisted, ticking off her fingers. "First, a crazy red-haired stalker pops out of thin air behind us, sprouts giant wings, loses control, and flies off into the gravel. Then, a psychotic, core-stealing Sylven lures us into a drainage pit and tries to kill us. And now? Now we’re signed up to play live bait for the Head Warden of Security at a high-society ball!"

Miriel shot a bitter look over her shoulder at me. "And it’s all because we have Elira as a roommate. Trouble follows her like a trained hound."

I opened my mouth to snap back but the words died in my throat.

Bren’s casual recap had just slammed into my brain.

A red-haired stalker who popped out of thin air...

I froze in my tracks.

A sudden spike of static flared behind my eyes. The weird gap in my memory—the blank wall right after Tobin had pinned me—suddenly throbbed with a sickening heat.

I remembered that red-haired male.

Or... did I?

My mind spun into a dizzying vortex. I remembered seeing a flash of red coat and malicious eyes somewhere today. I felt a lingering memory of seeing him again, but every time I tried to anchor where that second meeting happened, my brain slipped on the details.

I hadn’t been anywhere today except the West Annex dorms, the thoroughfares, and... the Sunken Arch.

Was he at the Sunken Arch?

"He could have shifted into a student, a servant, or a guard..." Commander Clement’s voice echoed in my head.

A paralyzing shiver ran down my spine, turning my blood to ice.

Tobin had elemental lightning and spatial magic. He was a monster who stole powers. Had I watched Tobin shapeshift into that red-haired stranger right in front of me in the dark?

Was that why Tobin had vanished into thin air? Because he hadn’t fled at all—he had taken another face?

Was that it? The red-haired stranger was Tobin!

I raised a trembling hand to my forehead, touching the exact spot where the strange warmth still lingered beneath my skin.

Why couldn’t I remember? What had really happened in that dark chamber before the Wardens arrived?

"Elira?" Bren paused a few steps ahead, turning around with a brow raised in concern. "What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I slowly lowered my hand, staring into the creeping fog of the Academy grounds.

"Nothing. I just... I think tomorrow night isn’t going to be a normal ball."