Enid moved carefully through the underground passage, a hidden tunnel steeped in a warped, sickly aura.

  It was pitch-black inside, like the walls had been drowned in ink, and whatever little light existed got swallowed whole.

  She sparked a small flame on the tip of her finger and used it as a lantern, pushing back the darkness just enough to see.

  The stone walls were scarred with age, blotched and peeling like a half-ruined mural.

  The ground was uneven, and every step made her boots scrape with a dull, heavy sound.

  Everything about the place said no living person had set foot here in a long time.

  The blood on the floor said otherwise, the injured black-robed attacker had come this way.

  Cobwebs covered the ceiling, threads crossing over one another like an invisible net.

  Every now and then, a small spider skittered across, the tiny rustle loud in the tunnel’s silence.

  The deeper Enid went, the stronger that stale, ancient feeling became.

  It looked like an old burial corridor, she could recognize the typical tomb layout mortals loved to build.

  Along both sides sat rotting wooden shelves, warped and trembling, like they’d collapse if you breathed on them.

  Dust-coated jars and battered books rested on the planks, their shapes barely visible under layers of grime.

  When Enid rounded a corner, she saw a faint light ahead.

  Then she heard it, footsteps, coming from somewhere deeper in the room at the end.

  She didn’t slow down.

  She didn’t even try to hide.

  It wasn’t recklessness, it was a preemptive strike.

  Without a sound, Enid had already cast a dark-element spell under her feet, Shadow Spike.

  The spell hid inside her shadow, following her like a second skin.

  With a thought, it could turn into razor-sharp spikes that burst up from the ground and skewer whoever Enid decided was an enemy.

  If someone was lying in wait nearby, listening for her approach, they’d already stepped into her trap.

  The moment they smirked at her “carelessness,” the spike would hit first.

  Only when their body tore open would they realize the truth.

  They weren’t the hunter.

  Enid was.

  It worked almost every time, and it was one of the few dark-element techniques Enid actually liked using.

  Light and shadow were both a pain to control, even for her, and they always took real preparation.

  Finally, Enid and her shadow reached the doorway.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Inside, the “enemy” seemed ready to move too.

  Enid was about to trigger the attack when she saw who it was.

  Howard, the current dean of the Magic school.

  The shadow spike froze in place, stopping an instant before it pierced him.

  Howard stared at the spike hovering near his throat and didn’t dare twitch.

  He forced a careful smile and spoke softly, “Professor Innis, what a coincidence. I didn’t expect to see you exploring this hidden tomb too.”

  A flicker of confusion crossed Enid’s face.

  It vanished just as fast.

  “Dean Howard, why are you down here,” Enid asked. “What are you doing here?”

  Howard wiped cold sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, then nodded toward the spike.

  He laughed awkwardly. “That’s a long story. Could you do me a favor and dispel this… very elegant spell? Holding my neck like this is a bit rough on an old man.”

  Enid flicked her hand.

  The spike disappeared.

  She kept her eyes on him. “Where did you enter from? Did you see a mysterious figure in a black robe come through?”

  Howard brushed dust off his clothes and replied, “I came in from the other side of this room. As for the ‘mysterious person’ you mentioned, I’m afraid I was absorbed in studying the structure and didn’t notice anyone.”

  Enid nodded, thanked him, and turned to leave.

  She meant to continue her search for the intruder who had fled into the tomb.

  The moment Innis showed her back, Howard’s expression changed.

  The polite mask dropped.

  Killing intent flashed in his eyes as he silently gathered magic in his hand, aiming at the professor who had seemingly lowered her guard.

  A wet, sharp sound cut through the room.

  Something had been pierced.

  It wasn’t Enid.

  It was Howard.

  Blood spilled from his lips as he looked down at the shadow spike jutting through his chest.

  He choked, “Professor… why… why would you…”

  Enid turned slowly, smiling like she’d done nothing at all.

  “Surprised?” she said. “I never canceled my spell. If anything…”

  She pointed at Howard’s shadow on the floor.

  “I just moved Shadow Spike from my shadow into yours,” Enid continued. “Guess you’ve never met a truly good dark-element caster.”

  Howard clutched his chest, blood soaking his fingers.

  He wheezed, “No… why… I didn’t do anything…”

  Enid cut him off. “You really think I wouldn’t notice a cheap little trick like that?”

  She clasped her hands behind her back, adopting a posture that looked almost harmless.

  Her face stayed blank as she went on, “You hid it well, but the smell of blood gives you away. You’re badly injured.”

  She took another step closer.

  “And that demon stench on you,” Enid said. “It’s so thick you might as well be pickled in it.”

  Howard gritted his teeth and tried to bluff through the pain.

  “This is… just an old wound splitting open from an earlier experiment,” he coughed. “Demon stench? Heh.”

  He forced a shaky laugh and pressed on, “I know elves are sensitive to that sort of thing, but your feelings aren’t proof. You just attacked a dean without any decisive evidence.”

  His voice sharpened into a threat, even as blood kept coming.

  “You’ll be punished under the law… cough, cough.”

  Enid ignored him.

  Crackling lightning formed in her palm, snapping and hissing like a living thing as she walked closer.

  Howard’s eyes widened.

  He saw exactly what she intended.

  “What are you doing,” he demanded. “Stop. If I die, the academy’s soul marks will trigger an alarm. You can’t…”

  He didn’t get to finish.

  Enid grabbed his head with a hand wrapped in popping electricity.

  “Relax,” she said. “I’m not letting you die until you tell me everything.”

  She leaned in a fraction, voice calm.

  “It’ll just take a little pain to loosen your tongue.”

  Enid released him.

  Howard gulped air, trembling, and screamed through clenched teeth, “You filthy bastard. You think you can do this and walk away…”

  Enid grabbed his head again.

  “Your mouth is for information,” she said, tone almost bored. “Not for noise.”

  She tilted her head slightly.

  “Didn’t your guardians teach you that?”

  Howard’s vision swam as he spat, “You… damn…”

  “Wrong answer,” Enid said.

  Howard’s scream echoed down the tunnel.

  Enid kept “treating” him with lightning.

  Howard kept insisting he was innocent.

  Their conversation, if it could be called that, continued for a long while.

  Some time later, Caroline arrived.

  She came with a squad of fully armed security officers, two spell hounds conjured with hexcraft, and a stack of documents in hand.

  On the way, Caroline had prepared herself for the worst.

  All that tension and dread collapsed into a mix of shock, helpless disbelief, and, somehow, embarrassment.

  Because the scene in front of her looked like this.

  Howard was covered in blood, half-conscious, flat on the ground, still swearing he was innocent.

  And Professor Innis was sitting on top of him, legs crossed neatly, poking him over and over with a finger that crackled with electricity.

  Caroline’s face tightened.

  “Professor Innis,” she snapped. “That posture is completely inappropriate. There are people watching.”