Luckborn

It took everything Otter had not to gather all his friends and tell them what had happened. Instead, he took his time, telling each one the story as he saw them.

Erin was thrilled he'd gotten Blackwood's permission and was eager to be involved now. Levi's enthusiasm was a bit more watered down, though he was still excited about the prospect of new discoveries. Jasper seemed the most concerned of all of them, though he didn't say much. His countenance was grim as Otter told him what had transpired, but he wouldn't say what had him so bothered.

At first, he had hoped to hear something from Blackwood quickly, perhaps even the next day. But he did not. Nor did news arrive the following day.

And so, Otter fell back into the steady rhythm of academy life. Course sessions resumed. The Library awaited him each evening, its towering shelves casting long shadows in the lamplight. The routine should have brought comfort. But it didn't.

He could still hear the compass. Or at least its whispers. Sometimes, they were faint, like distant murmurs carried on the breeze; sometimes they rose just beneath the chatter of students in the dining hall, curling around his thoughts like smoke. Other times, they came without reason—in the silent corridors, during Professor Quisling's lectures, even in the sanctuary of his dorm. But they never spoke words he could understand.

And then there were the dreams. Every night, they came. The compass spun in his hands, its brass casing glowing with impossible light. The fractured glass reflected the eerie markings along its surface. The symbols pulsed, rhythmic, like the beating of a heart. In the darkness of the dream, figures stirred. Shadows with hollow eyes. Watching. Waiting.

Otter woke each morning with the sensation of unseen eyes lingering behind. He tried to shake it off. Tried to convince himself that the dreams were just the lingering effects of the compass's reaction. But he remembered Sage's words. She was having dreams, too. She believed they were a message from her god. An omen. Was that what this was? Otter didn't think so. But he couldn't completely convince himself they were merely dreams.

Erin, of course, noticed he was off.

"You're twitchy," she remarked one morning as they made their way across the courtyard. The sky overhead was a dull gray, threatening rain. "More than usual. Something you want to share?"

Otter gave a half-hearted shrug, fiddling with the strap of his satchel. "I'm fine."

"Sure. And I'm the Queen of Dragons." She shot him a sideways glance. "Does it have to do with your… quest?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? You should be more specific. How can I help you work through it if you won't tell me what's bothering you."

Otter forced a smile. "I'm just restless. Tired of waiting. I feel like I should be doing something."

Erin sighed. "Yeah. I get that. But we have to trust Blackwood."

Rumors swirled through the Academy. But not the typical ones. And not anything about Otter, for once. Third-years were disappearing from campus. Not because of any scandal or academic failure, but by request. The Adventurer's Guild was calling on students—the most skilled among them—to assist in the field. Kaosborn attacks were increasing. Entire villages had vanished. Even fortified cities had come under siege.

In the library, Otter overheard hushed conversations between students, their voices laced with unease.

"Gorlan left yesterday. Got summoned straight to the guild headquarters."

"Did you hear about Westmarch? Half the town… gone. They say the ground opened up beneath it."

"My brother wrote after seeing a battle for himself. He said the Kaosborn are different. Smarter."

The Academy had always been a place of learning, a bastion of knowledge against the encroaching darkness. Even so, it was also a place of freedom and youthful exuberance. But now, even within its stone walls, the fear was palpable.

And Blackwood? He was everywhere. The Overseer stalked the halls like a shadow, holding terse conversations with senior faculty. Otter glimpsed him through half-open doors, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Whatever decisions Blackwood was making, whatever plans and machinations he was implementing, there was a gravity to them that even Otter could feel.

He did his best to focus on his studies. He spent hours copying old manuscripts, deciphering forgotten texts, and assisting Dane with cataloging artifacts. But even the safety of the library could not shield him from the whispers. They slithered through the still air, their presence undeniable.

And still, he waited.

Blackwood had said they would investigate the compass further. But since that day in the Annex two weeks ago, Otter had heard nothing. No summons. No explanations. The silence gnawed at him.

And the compass? He could still feel it. Like a thread pulled taut, binding him to it. Even without seeing it, its presence haunted him. The whispers were proof enough of that.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Still, Otter did what he did best.

He endured.

Otter slipped through the narrow, unmarked door. The entrance to the Guild of Subtle Handiwork was easy to miss—by design. Only those who knew where to look would find it. Beyond the door, a small corridor led to a large chamber lit by the flickering glow of enchanted lanterns.

The meeting chamber was plain but spacious, a semi-circular room lined with shelves cluttered with various trinkets, rusted tools, and old lock mechanisms for practice. A few mismatched chairs and crates were arranged in loose clusters.

Selene Vexley was already holding court. Dressed in a leather vest over a dark blouse, her short hair framed her sharp features. She lounged against one of the sturdy tables, flipping a small dagger in the air and catching it with practiced ease.

"Ah, Bennett. Thought you'd forgotten about us," she said, her smirk dripping with amusement. A few students chuckled.

Otter rolled his eyes.

"Never. Professor Quisling has been keeping me busy," he replied dryly, taking a spot near the edge of the gathering.

"Good. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two." Selene tossed the dagger, and it embedded itself cleanly into a nearby wooden beam. "Now, where were we?"

A third-year named Hervey stepped forward. Otter noted how unremarkable the guy was. Average looks, average height, average build. The kind of guy who could blend in anywhere. "I was just telling them about the field trip last week," he said, crossing his arms. "Ironside Keep. You know, the ruins."

Otter's interest piqued. Everyone knew about the ruins beneath the keep. That's where the Simulation had taken place. But he didn't know students were allowed down there otherwise.

"The Simulation was supposed to mimic those ruins," Otter said. "Right?"

Hervey shrugged. "Sort of. They use the first level of the ruins for the Simulation. But there's a big difference between illusions and the real thing. Level 1 is pretty tame. Not much interesting to see. But there's more to them than that. And as soon as you go down a level, things get weirder. It kind of feels like something is watching you."

A murmur rippled through the group. The idea of the ruins having a presence unsettled even the most daring among them.

"What exactly were you studying?" Otter pressed.

Hervey scratched his chin. "Symbols. Carved into the walls. Some ancient language no one's cracked yet. According to the professors, they predate the Academy. Maybe even the Kaos Wars. Deciphering it is our professor's pet project."

"How could there be something that old down there. Aren't those the ruins of the first Academy? From like 500 years ago?" someone asked.

Hervey nodded. "Yeah. That's why its so strange. Our professor says there's some sort of residual time magic in the walls. They say echoes of the past get caught in places like that. Makes the air feel heavy. You can almost hear whispers if you're quiet enough."

Otter tensed. The mention of whispers struck far too close to his own experiences with the compass. He could almost feel the phantom sensation of the voices at the edge of his mind.

"What did the symbols look like?" Otter asked, forcing his voice to remain steady.

"Here," Hervey said, pulling a battered leather notebook from his satchel. He flipped through pages filled with rough sketches and scrawled notes. "I copied a few."

He passed the notebook to Otter, who traced a finger along the intricate markings. The symbols twisted and curled in patterns that seemed both deliberate and chaotic. But it was the faint resemblance to the compass's etchings that sent a chill down his spine. The same flowing lines, the same unearthly elegance.

He swallowed. "No one's translated these?"

"Not yet. Some think it's just decorative, but I don't buy it. Whatever these symbols are, they mean something."

Selene, who had been observing quietly, tilted her head. "And now Bennett's gears are turning. Careful, Otter. Curiosity like that will get you into trouble." She grinned. "And you know how much we like trouble around here."

The conversation shifted, students breaking off to discuss practice drills and their own petty schemes. But Otter remained still, thoughts of strange symbols and whispers from the past running through his head.

He'd wager his only gold summa those carvings were connected to the compass.

He caught Levi's eye and nodded him over, whispering his suspicions. Levi's eyes lit up, but he said nothing. He knew how to keep a secret.

Otter shut the door to his dorm room and leaned against it, the low creak of the hinges swallowed by the lingering buzz of thoughts in his mind. The room was small but comfortable—a single bed, a desk cluttered with stray parchment, a small bookshelf now burdened with various texts.

He tossed his satchel onto the desk and pulled out his notebook, flipping it open to the carefully drawn sketches of the compass. The symbols were there, etched in shaky graphite—the same twisting lines and impossible curves. Otter reached into the depths of his memory, recalling the worn pages of Hervey's notebook. The resemblance was undeniable.

The ruins beneath Ironside Keep… ancient carvings that predated the Academy. And the compass. It wasn't a coincidence. It couldn't be.

He pulled the notebook closer, placing it side by side with his own sketches. The markings stared back at him, unreadable and foreign. He traced a finger along the lines, half-hoping the contact might unlock some buried understanding. But no revelation came—only the cold, empty certainty that they were connected.

The whispers began again.

At first, they were distant. Like wind through the branches. But as he continued to study the symbols, the sound grew. Words formed just beyond recognition. The voice was neither male nor female, neither young nor old. It was layered. Endless. Familiar and yet alien.

Otter's breathing quickened. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palms against the edge of the desk.

"Stop it," he muttered under his breath. "It's not real."

But the whispers didn't stop.

Instead, they swelled.

His candle flame flickered violently. The shadows twisted. Otter's head pounded as the pressure in his skull built. "What do you want?" he shouted.

The symbols in his notebook shifted, their shapes writhing like living things. He stumbled back, the chair skidding across the floor as his vision blurred.

A flash.

He saw the ruins. Dark, endless corridors lined with cracked stone walls. The carvings were everywhere, glowing faintly with a pale, unnatural light. A distant thrum reverberated through the air, like a pulse. There was something below. Something waiting. Watching.

Another flash.

The compass spun. Its fractured glass gleamed in the dimness. The markings along its casing flared, pulsing in rhythm with the thrumming sound. And behind it, the shadows shifted. A figure loomed—faceless, formless, but undeniably present.

Otter gasped.

He slammed back into the real world, his hands clutching the edge of the desk. The whispers ceased. The lantern's light returned to its steady glow. The shadows fell still.

For a moment, Otter did nothing. He simply stood there, trembling, his chest heaving. Sweat dampened his forehead.

He reached for the notebook with shaky hands, flipping to the page once more. The symbols were still there. Unchanged. But their meaning… it seemed closer to understanding now.

"What are you?" Otter whispered to the empty room.

But there was no answer.