Page 11 of Darkness and Deceit (Obsidian Academy #2)

Nine

AUGUSTUS

“We must cover the entire island,” Mara murmurs as we enter the tent.

Her voice is steady, emotionless, as always. Since arriving at Obsidian Academy, the Keepers have scoured every corner, searching for disruptions in the Balance… and for Magnus. We have found nothing. That, in itself, is concerning.

“We will separate into groups,” she continues. “Augustus, with me. I have a different task for you.”

Since word of Magnus’ presence spread, the protective shield surrounding the academy has caused unrest. Necessary unrest. The Elders would not have approved such measures lightly. Only they understand what Magnus is truly capable of. It is not a question of if he moves, but when .

I follow Mara, her robes brushing the tent floor in silent grace. Inside, the space is cloaked in deep royal blue fabric. Our tools—charms, scrolls, spells—are arrayed with clinical precision. We were not prepared the first time. This time, we will be. I hope.

“What task do you have for me?” I ask, keeping my tone level. I have trained my entire life to serve the Balance. I am not afraid—but I am aware. This assignment could shape everything.

“You will see soon enough.”

I nod. Even if I am restless with the cryptic response and the unknown, I do not question. My eyes follow hers as they shift toward the tent entrance.

Lilith Knight arrives flanked by a Predator—Kieran, if I am not mistaken. I was sent here because of her. A Dual and a woman, no less. I expected someone raw, unruly. Instead, Lilith walks like someone trying not to show how uncertain she feels.

Black hair streaked with violet. High-waisted leathers, a plain black shirt, and of course her academy cloak. It is clear to me that she is trying to be unreadable, neutral, but the flicker in her eyes betrays her. She is absorbing everything.

The faint shimmer of the ward still clings to her skin. The blade would have tested her. That she is standing here means she passed.

Kieran inclines his head. “Lilith Knight. As requested.”

“Thank you, Kieran,” Mara replies coolly. Her pale, nearly translucent gaze sweeps over Lilith with the slow precision of someone taking exact measurements.

She says nothing more until the Predator exits the tent, then, “Lilith. Welcome.”

Lilith steps forward and extends a hand in greeting. A perfectly normal gesture. But Mara only stares at it.

The moment stretches.

Lilith blinks, then slowly lowers her hand, uncertainty flickering across her features. “Right. Sorry. I forgot.”

I step in, offering an explanation gently. “Keepers do not engage in physical contact. Our energy is attuned to the Balance. Even brief contact can shift alignment or ignite a backlash we cannot control.”

Lilith’s expression shifts subtly—apology giving way to a sort of wary curiosity. “Worse how?”

“We rely on precision,” I answer. “The Balance speaks to us only when we are aligned. Touch introduces interference. It is not simply a rule. It is for our protection.”

Her eyes flick between me and Mara, thoughtfully. She does not push further.

That, more than anything, tells me she is learning.

“I’ve been told I can assist,” she says after a beat. “Some of my… friends are also available to help, if you’ll allow it.”

It is said with quiet conviction, and despite myself, I almost smile. She is earnest. Brave. But still new to this world and its shadows. The belief that this can be solved through collaboration and goodwill—it is admirable. But naive.

She must see something in my face—some flicker of amusement, or doubt—because her posture shifts instantly. Her spine straightens, and her gray eyes sharpen as they narrow on mine.

“Something funny?” she asks, clipped and defensive.

“No,” I answer, keeping my expression even. “Just observing.”

Mara lifts her hand in a subtle gesture, drawing the moment to a close. “Come. Sit.”

She leads us toward the table at the center of the tent—an old, lacquered thing ringed with brass inlay, surrounded by carved chairs with velvet cushions. Above it, seven candles flicker in a candelabrum, casting long shadows across the fabric walls.

Lilith takes a seat across from us, but not without hesitation. Her fingers hover over the chair’s edge for a moment before she lowers herself. Her gaze flicks to the candlelight, then to Mara, and finally to me.

Only when we are all seated does Mara speak again. “We do not intend to invade your mind again,” she says plainly.

Lilith goes rigid.

Mara’s tone does not waver. “Wren’s methods were... regrettable. But they confirmed your honesty. That is sufficient.”

The way Lilith’s throat moves as she swallows betrays more than her expression. Her hands curl slightly into fists on her lap, the tension still there, coiled tight, like she is bracing for a blow.

“I hope it’s clear now that I’m not like the other Dual,” she says finally. “I’m not trying to manipulate or deceive anyone. My father served this realm honorably. I want to do the same.”

I study her as the words settle into the silence between us. There is no trace of deception in her voice. No ambition to control, no hunger for power. Only a raw, open desire to be trusted. To be believed.

To belong .

And something about that unsettles me more than I expect.

Because I recognize it. That ache to prove yourself. The quiet desperation to matter. To be useful . To show the Balance you are not just worthy, but necessary .

It is a dangerous need. It can be molded. Twisted. Or, if ignored for too long, broken.

I look away first. Not because I do not believe her.

But because I do .

“The Balance does not choose lightly,” Mara says at last. Her tone is impossible to misinterpret. “And it did choose you. But the timing… is unfortunate.”

Her gaze sharpens, fixing on Lilith with unsettling calm.

“If Magnus has returned, he will not be at full strength. That gives us an advantage, but only for a short window. The shield around the school is holding—for now. But he has already slipped past our sight once. If we do not find him before he regains his power…”

She does not finish the sentence. She does not have to.

Silence pools between us.

Then finally, she continues, “We believe you might be able to locate him.”

Lilith stares at her. “You want me to find Magnus?”

“You will not be alone, of course,” Mara replies. “Augustus will go with you.”

I manage to keep still, to not betray the flood of questions surging in my chest. Outwardly, I nod. Inwardly—I falter. This is not strategy. It is a gamble.

Two young, untested talents walking blind into the dark while the rest of the Keepers hold the line.

Lilith turns to me. Her tone is not harsh, just honest. “No offense, but I don’t know him. And bond magic?—”

“This is not a bond,” Mara cuts in. “This is a task. We do not ask for trust. We ask for results.”

Lilith’s frown deepens. “But if something happens—shouldn’t I have someone I’m actually connected to? One of my?—”

“No,” Mara says, with a finality that slices through the air. “Your friends are needed elsewhere. You and Augustus will locate Magnus. When you do, he will cast a binding spell. That is all.”

It is clean. Efficient. And utterly impersonal.

I know what this is.

Lilith is the variable—either a key to solving this crisis, or a potential threat waiting to ignite. And I... I am the safeguard. The anchor. The insurance .

If she succeeds, the Keepers win.

If she fails, I am there to make sure it does not become worse.

The clarity of that strikes deeper than I expected. They do not trust me. They are using me. And I agreed to it the second I put on these robes.

Lilith does not argue, but I do not think it is because she agrees. I think she knows, like I do, that refusal was never an option.

She rises, spine straight. “When do we leave?” she asks and her voice does not waver.

Mara meets my eyes then. There is no emotion in her expression, but the meaning is unmistakable. Ensure success or else.

“Now.”

Outside the tent, three men wait in a tense formation, the protectiveness rolling off them in waves. Predators, all of them. These must be the ones mentioned in the Keeper briefing, the ones who always surround Lilith. Kai, Simon, and Vaughn, if I remember correctly.

The broad-shouldered blond is the first to speak. “Lilith,” he says, voice tight. “You okay?”

She nods, but it’s too fast and completely unconvincing. “Yeah. I’m fine, Simon. We’re about to head into the forest for a search?—”

“The forest ?” the dark-haired one—Vaughn—snaps, incredulous. “No. Absolutely not. The last time you?—”

“Vaughn,” she warns, but the edge in her voice betrays her nerves.

He barrels forward anyway. “That’s suicide. You can’t go back in there.”

I step forward. “She will not be alone. I will be with her.”

They all turn to me like I’ve just threatened her instead of attempting to reassure them. Three pairs of eyes bore into me, all making the same thing painfully clear: I don’t get to decide anything where she’s concerned.

“You?” the quiet, brooding one—Kai, by process of elimination—says flatly.

“No offense, but… you’re still in training, aren’t you?” the blond, Simon asks.

“Yes,” I reply, calm despite the heat rising in the air between us.

“Brilliant,” Vaughn mutters, voice laced with venom. “Let’s send the rookie Keeper and our least replaceable person into a death trap. What could possibly go wrong?”

His sarcasm is sharp, but what hides behind it is sharper.

Fear.

Of losing her .

An older Keeper might have chastised him for his attitude, but I do not.

“This isn’t happening,” Vaughn growls, stepping forward. “I’ll?—”

His voice cuts off mid-word. So does his movement. Mouth open. Arm half-raised.

And so do the others. Locked in place like statues, eyes unblinking.

Around us, life continues undisturbed. Birds chirp in the trees, distant chatter drifts through the air. But inside this circle, time has halted.

Lilith spins toward me. “What—what did you do?”

“Temporary stasis,” I answer, already walking.

She rushes to keep up, boots scraping against the ground. “What the fuck? You froze them? Are they okay? ”

“They will unfreeze once we are out of proximity,” I respond evenly.

She steps in front of me, blocking my path. Her gray eyes burn as they lock onto mine.

“You froze them ,” she repeats, voice rising. “You didn’t even give me a chance to try and calm them down. You just—decided.”

“I need you clear-headed,” I reply, trying not to flinch at the heat in her glare. “You were being pulled in too many directions.”

“That’s bullshit,” she snaps. “Those are my friends. You don’t get to treat them like... like objects just because it’s convenient for your mission.” Her voice is shaking now and her hands tremble at her sides, clenched so tightly her knuckles have gone white.

I remain silent. There is nothing I can say to make it better.

She turns, intent on marching back to them, but freezes when her eyes catch on Mara still standing at the tent’s edge, watching silently, her expression unreadable.

Lilith holds her gaze for a beat or two. Then she breathes out, sharp and bitter, like she is swallowing down a scream. “Of course,” she mutters.

She does not dally any longer. Simply pivots and stalks toward the forest.

I follow, the tension thick between us. The trees rise ahead—tall, dense, dark as an unspoken threat. The shadows shift, like they’re waiting for us to step in.

A chill travels down my spine and I lower my voice. “Stay close. The Balance doesn’t give second chances.”

She doesn’t answer.

But she doesn’t hesitate.

Together, we step into the trees.

And the shadows close in around us.