The morning light filtered through the tall, rune-marked windows of Asher's study, casting shifting sigils onto the floor as Clayton paced. His fingers drummed against the side of his coat, the Echo Chime cool in his palm. Across the room, Eric scrolled through the academy's event scheduler with practiced ease.
"We're set for third period," Eric said, looking up. "Illusory Mechanics, east tower, Room 37-B. Marvin's class."
Asher closed the security lattice on his window. "So we're doing this, then? Just… walking in?"
"Why not?" Clayton said, gripping the Echo Chime tighter. "We pose as interested students. It's an open elective for Novices We go, stay for a session, leave the Chime running, and walk out with data. Simple."
Eric didn't look convinced. "You realize who we are, right? Rankers and Royalty. If someone like us suddenly shows interest in a tiny elective with an obscure instructor, people will notice. Marvin will notice and if he really is involved, then he will be alert."
"He'll be alert but more likely flustered and flustered people make mistakes," Clayton said, though even as he said it, he felt the doubt creeping in.
Asher leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Or suspicious. Especially if he's involved in anything shady. He'll adapt, hide whatever he's doing, or worse—mark us."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then Eric sighed. "Let's do a soft trial. We attend, act curious, and keep a low profile. No active scanning. Just observation."
The plan lasted precisely twelve minutes into the session.
Asher, Clayton, and Eric had barely taken their seats in the dimly lit lecture hall when Instructor Marvin paused mid-sentence. His eyes, sharp beneath a sheen of age, flicked to them—just briefly.
It was enough.
Clayton felt it immediately. The way Marvin's body stiffened, the subtle delay in his words. His rhythm shifted. The man who had been diagramming sigils now offered only dry, disconnected theory. No demonstrations. No student interaction.
"Abort," Eric muttered under his breath.
By the time the class ended, they knew they'd learned nothing.
"Plan A's a bust," Clayton said as they exited into the courtyard. "He knows something. The second we walked in, he adjusted."
"Too prepared," Asher said grimly. "He's hiding it. And now, he knows we're watching."
Clayton looked down at the silent Echo Chime in his pocket, useless. "So what now?"
Eric looked back toward the hall. "We find someone else to be our eyes."
That night, in Asher's apartment, they reconvened with a new plan—and a list.
"Thirty-eight students," Eric said, waving a glowing scroll of names above the projection table. "That's how many are currently enrolled in Marvin's two electives. We can't tail them all."
"No," Asher agreed, tapping through the profiles with quick, fluid motions. "But we don't need to. We just need one. A weak link. Someone we can push."
Clayton tilted his head. "Push, huh? That's a nice way of saying manipulate."
Eric smirked. "You're catching on."
The room fell quiet except for the occasional hum of the archive crystal. It was almost surreal—three of the academy's top Rankers conspiring in the dead of night, not over duels or prestige, but to uncover an illusionist instructor who might be planting cursed cards under the academy's nose.
Clayton glanced again at the list. "Alright. We need criteria. Who's easy to pressure, not closely tied to a faction, and likely to crumble if confronted?"
Asher pulled up the first ten profiles. "Let's filter by faction neutrality, poor attendance, and debt status. Those who take electives for extra credits or compensation often fall into this bracket."
Within seconds, the list narrowed to four names.
"Already filtered," Eric replied. "Four candidates. One stands out."
He tapped the projection, highlighting a name.
"Zane Hollis."
Rank 3 in Hearts. no current faction. Academic probation. Two counts of class misconduct. And—most importantly—heavy debts logged under his name from a private Gold Fang loan provider.
Asher nodded. "A desperate student with something to hide. Perfect."
Clayton stood. "Let's dig deeper. If we want him to work for us, we need leverage."
It didn't take long. Within the hour, they had Zane's full student record open, and the contents weren't pretty. He was under academic probation, had late fees piling up for arcane materials, and apparently had borrowed heavily from a minor Gold Fang sponsor without formal approval.
Asher leaned back, satisfied. "Now we just need to pay him a visit."
Clayton nodded slowly. "Now that's leverage."
They found Zane the next evening in the older dormitory wing, where the walls were cracked and the sigils barely hummed.
When the door opened, Zane blinked in shock to see top-ranked students at his threshold.
"I—I didn't do anything," he stammered.
Clayton gave him a calm smile. "Relax. We just want to talk."
Five minutes later, they were inside his room, a cramped single lit by a flickering arcane lantern. Zane sat on the edge of his bed, nervous and shifting.
"You're in Marvin's class," Eric said plainly. "We want to know what goes on in there."
Zane swallowed. "Nothing. It's just… boring. Old guy talking about illusions and animals. No practicals, no weird stuff."
Clayton tilted his head. "But he stays after class with select students, doesn't he?"
Zane looked at him sharply. "How did you—?"
"You stayed back once," Asher said smoothly. "You know he waved you off. But not the others."
Zane hesitated, then said, "Yeah. One or two others sometimes stay behind. Not every session. But it's always quiet. Never on the record."
Eric leaned forward. "We think he's experimenting. Quietly. And we want proof. We need you to wear this."
He held out the Echo Chime, now etched with a second detection layer.
"It's tuned to pick up arcane residue. Not sound. Not visuals. Just magical energy traces—especially from illusion matrices."
Zane stared at it like it might bite him. "You want me to spy on a professor?"
"We want you to attend class normally," Clayton said. "Keep it on you. That's it."
"And if I say no?"
Asher pulled up a glowing document. "Your unpaid debt to the Gold Fang sponsor in East Warwick. Interest rate's lethal. One word from us and you're blacklisted from half the electives next term."
Zane paled.
Eric leaned in. "Or we wipe that slate clean. You help us, and we help you."
Zane stared at the Echo Chime again. Then slowly nodded. "Alright. I'll do it. But just once."
Clayton smiled. "Once is enough."
The next day, they waited behind the east greenhouses. From this vantage point, they could see Marvin's lecture hall without being spotted.
"Think he'll follow through?" Clayton asked.
"He's desperate," Asher replied. "Desperation makes people brave—or stupid."
Class began. Fifty-five slow minutes passed. Students began trickling out. Zane emerged last, moving fast, clutching his satchel tightly.
He turned the corner, and they intercepted him behind the vines.
"It's done," he said, breathless. "The device lit up like crazy when he pulled up some old projection board. Same runes you showed me. I didn't say anything—I swear."
Clayton took the Echo Chime and activated its replay. Waves of arcane residue shimmered in the air—a near match to the energy pattern from the illusion card they'd been sent weeks ago.
Eric stared. "That's not a coincidence. That's confirmation."
Asher's voice was cold. "He's hiding the same energy that tried to manipulate us."
Zane backed away. "We're done, right?"
Clayton nodded. "We'll keep our end of the deal."
Zane vanished into the crowd.
Asher turned to Clayton. "Now we know. Marvin's involved."
"Next step?" Eric asked.
Clayton pocketed the Chime. "Now… we find out who he's working for."