Luckborn

The sky was bright. Birdsong drifted through the open windows of Evershade Hall. The heady scent of lilac wafted on the breeze. Outside, Otter could hear the chatter of other students as they made their way across campus. For all appearances, it was just another day. But Otter's nerves told him different.

He found a seat in the lecture hall. He was looking forward to another one of Quisling's animated lectures. The last two weeks since returning from his adventure in the ruins beneath the Adventurer's Academy had him on edge. Every day, he half expected to be summoned to Headmaster Voss's office and expelled or carted off by officials from Aurelia for disrupting the System. But that hadn't happened. In fact, nothing unusual had happened. After the short holiday, courses had resumed and instructors had begun the final push before exams. It seemed things were business as usual on campus. Still, the worry held Otter in its grip and he looked forward to watching Quisling's antics.

Erin slid into the seat next to him, pulling out her own notebook and laid it on the half-desk. "Who's that?" she asked, nodding to the raised platform at the front of the room.

Otter followed her gaze. Seated in a chair next to the chalkboard was a man in a dark gray three-piece suit bearing the same Instructor badge as Quisling's. His posture was perfect but rigid—like a board was shoved up the back of his suit coat—or maybe somewhere else. His face was unremarkable, the only distinguishing characteristic the graying mutton chops adorning his cheeks. But that was a common fashion among older men these days. Still unremarkable. Except… there was something about the way he sat. Perfectly still. Not resting. Waiting. His eyes didn't flicker across the room. His posture never shifted. Otter had seen guards stand like. Very well trained ones. Ones prepared for any threat. The man only glanced at his wrisplay every minute or so as if he might be late for an appointment.

At precisely one-thirty, the man looked at his wrisplay, nodded once, stood and began writing on the chalkboard.

PROF. HARROW – SUBSTITUTE INSTRUCTOR

TOPIC: PRE-KAOS SYSTEM MYTHOS

He wrote each letter with precise strokes, underlined his name once, and placed the chalk back in its holder. As Harrow turned, a faint, rhythmic clicking echoed in the quiet hall—his thumb tapping a ring against the side of his wrisplay. Not nervousness. Pattern. Precision. A tic from someone who tracked seconds the way other people tracked breaths. He looked over the gathered students' heads at some point in the back of the lecture hall when he spoke. "There has been a change of instruction. Professor Quisling has taken an emergency leave of absence. I will be concluding the term's lectures and evaluating your final exams." His voice was smooth. Neutral. Not a hint of concern.

Someone in the front row raised a hand. "Is he alright?"

"That information is not mine to share," Harrow replied, unblinking. "Open your textbooks to page one-ninety-four."

Otter's stomach knotted. He didn't reach for his book. His eyes stayed on the board, on the perfect white chalk line under Harrow's name. It looked like it had been measured with a ruler.

Erin leaned toward him and whispered, "Did you know he was leaving?"

"No," Otter said. Something in his gut told him Quisling didn't know either.

Otter clocked in for his work shift at the Library just after dinner, as usual. The outer study bays were crowded with students cramming ahead of final exams. Inside, the sounds of pens and pencils scratching on parchment and pages being turned washed over him. It was the kind of atmosphere that usually calmed him.

But tonight, he couldn't settle into his normal routine.

He shelved three journals out of order and walked past the row he was looking for twice. His mind kept circling back to that chalk line beneath PROF. HARROW – SUBSTITUTE INSTRUCTOR and the way everyone had just taken it all in stride.

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He made it a point to stroll by Archivist Dane's office several times until he finally spotted her logging return slips in her tight, spidery script. Her shawl was pulled tighter around her shoulders and there were new ink stains on her cuffs.

Otter told himself he just wanted reassurance. That Dane would say Quisling had gone on a vacation to visit a sibling or attend a symposium. But deep down, he was already building scenarios: quiet arrests, memory wipes, and worse.

Shaking himself away from such thoughts, he knocked on the door frame. "Archivist Dane?"

She finished a column before answering. "Otter."

"I was just—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Have you seen Professor Quisling recently?"

She glanced up. Her eyes were sharper than her voice. "I have not. He's taken an emergency leave of absence," she said simply. "I'm told it was quite sudden."

Otter hesitated. "He didn't say anything to me."

"Why would he?"

"Well, I've been helping with his research for the last few weeks. I just thought he would've said something if he knew he was leaving. I thought maybe he told you."

She turned back to the slips.

"He did not," she said, gently but firmly. "And I've not asked."

"It just seems strange. Aren't you curious?

Dane turned her full attention to him. "While curiosity is no sin. Indeed, it can be a blessing, especially in academia. But timing matters. Especially this week."

He nodded once, awkwardly.

"If there is any official news," she added, softer now, "you'll hear it through the appropriate channels. If not… perhaps it wasn't meant to be heard."

Otter swallowed, the back of his throat dry. "Right."

She showed a brief, tired smile. "You have a cart to finish."

With a sigh, he turned away. As he did, a single thought rose, uninvited and unwelcome: What if Quisling didn't leave by choice?

He didn't sleep well that night. His dreams came in fragments: a door slamming behind him with no handle, Quisling's voice whispering in languages he didn't recognize, a blackboard that kept wiping itself clean every time he tried to read it, a staircase folding into itself, the sound of ticking growing louder until it replaced his heartbeat. He saw a compass spinning wildly in the dark, then ticking like a clock, then stopping altogether—and cracking.

When he woke just before dawn, his sheets were tangled and his wrisplay had recorded a minor heart rate spike at 3:44 a.m. He stared at the ceiling for a long time before he got up.

Otter found Levi where he often did—along the narrow overlook that curved behind the greenhouse, where the stone railing was just wide enough to sit on if you didn't mind the drop. Most students avoided it. Levi made it a second home.

"How's it going?"

"Weirdly," said Otter. "I think something has happened to Professor Quisling."

"How so?"

"He's disappeared. Some stodgy old substitute replaced him in Kaos Theory. Didn't say what had happened, just that Quisling had to take a leave of absence suddenly. I asked Dane about it, and she gave me the same line. It feels wrong."

"Things do happen, you know. Maybe he had a death in the family or something. It's not necessarily connected to us."

"Yeah, maybe." Otter leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees. Below them, two instructors hustled by. "I just thought he would've left me a message since I was helping with his research and stuff."

Levi glanced sideways, one brow raised. "You think he was... taken?"

Otter didn't answer right away. His fingers drummed lightly against the stone ledge. "I think he helped me with the journal," he said. "And a week later, he's gone. And no one's talking about it. That can't be just a coincidence."

"So what if it's not?"

Otter stared at him. "What do you mean, so what if it's not?"

"What if it's not a coincidence? What if he's being questioned about his involvement in the System changes? That's a big leap of logic, anyway. I mean, if they think he's involved because he helped you get Gale's journal, then they'd already suspect you were responsible for...events. It's a circular argument."

Otter furrowed his brow. "I guess."

"But let's just say he's being questioned as we speak. What's he going to say? 'Yeah, I helped this kid research Emrys Gale.' I don't think that's grounds for arresting you or anything. Researching at a school. I think you're thinking about this too much."

They sat in silence for a while. The ivy along the wall rustled in the breeze. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tower chimed once. Otter rolled his shoulders, loosening some of the tension. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Levi finally stood, brushing dust from the back of his coat. "You want my advice?" he said. "Act normal. Study hard. And if someone does start asking questions, just shrug and tell them you're lucky." He lowered himself over the edge of wall and added, "Gotta go. Don't want to be late for work detail."

Otter stayed seated, watching the spring breeze ripple through the blossoming trees in the courtyard. Levi was right, he decided. There was no point in worrying about things he couldn't control. The semester was almost over and he had work to do. More than that, he needed to find out what his new Class would let him do.

He got his first real chance later that day.