Page 12 of Darkness and Deceit (Obsidian Academy #2)

Ten

LILITH

Why do all Keepers have to be such colossal assholes?

I grew up hearing stories from my dad—how Keepers were protectors of the realm, wise stewards of the Balance. Revered. Unshakable. But somehow, no one ever mentioned they’re also insufferable.

Seriously. Is there a secret class where they teach them how to be emotionally unavailable, uncomfortably cryptic, and entirely smug? Do they surgically remove their ability to emote?

They interrogate you like mind-shredding machines, ignore you like ghosts, and when they finally engage, they freeze your friends mid-sentence like it’s perfectly normal behavior.

And don’t even get me started on the whole throwing-people-off-buildings thing.

The image of Kai falling is burned behind my eyelids.

Every time it crosses my mind, I feel that same helplessness swell in my chest. I try not to think about it.

Try not to remember how close I came to losing someone I can’t even imagine losing.

I swallow hard and force myself back to the present.

Augustus walks ahead of me with that eerie, gliding grace all Keepers seem to have, like the ground bends to accommodate them. His royal blue tunic shifts with each step, brushing his legs like he’s some regal phantom summoned from a forgotten age.

His posture is too perfect, too still, like even breathing might crease his robe. I roll my eyes, but I still watch him.

Dark hair, slightly messy like he ran a hand through it and gave up. Gray eyes that don’t miss much. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, looks like he was trained to stand still and judge people for a living.

I watch the way his gaze flicks toward mine when he thinks I’m not looking. Like he’s checking I’m still here. Or making sure I haven’t run.

There’s something about him that doesn’t quite fit the marble pedestal they’ve put him on. A hesitation, maybe. A crack in the mask.

Maybe he’s not just watching me.

Maybe he’s afraid of what he sees.

He turns. His icy blue eyes catch mine, but before he can say anything judgmental, I beat him to it.

“Look, I need you to know that I’m not exactly a pro at summoning my Shadows, okay? They only show up when I’m about to die, so unless that’s part of your plan, don’t expect much help.”

He exhales. “I know. I can feel your nervousness. I need you to stop it.”

I blink. “Absolutely. Let me just whisper a little incantation, bottle up all my fear, and hurl it into a bottomless pit real quick. Would that make your Keeper sensibilities more comfortable?”

He raises an eyebrow like yes, actually, that would be ideal.

“Aren’t you worried? Even a little?”

“Of course I am,” he replies, clipped. “But I have been trained to compartmentalize. Something you have clearly yet to master.”

Then he turns, continuing without pause.

I grit my teeth and follow. “Gods, you Keepers. How does anyone even want to protect you? I’ve been around you for two days, and I already want to switch career paths.”

He doesn’t look back. “Keepers are not meant to be relatable. Emotional entanglements interfere with our ability to serve the Balance. That is why relationships—especially romantic ones—are forbidden. We are celibate by design.”

That shuts me up.

Celibate? This guy?

I mean, sure, he’s infuriating, but he’s also annoyingly attractive. The voice. The cheekbones. The whole marble-statue-meets-battle-priest thing. Tousled dark hair. Eyes like polished steel. And now he’s telling me he’s completely off-limits?

“That’s... a relief,” I mutter and add under my breath, “figures the universe would make you gorgeous and completely unavailable. Balance, I guess.”

He says nothing. Not a flicker of reaction. But his posture straightens slightly, like he heard me and doesn’t know what to do with it.

We walk deeper into the trees. The silence stretches and every twig snap makes me flinch. I inhale, forcing my heart rate to calm. I have questions. So many. But I need to ask them carefully.

“So… this other Dual. Magnus,” I say, voice low. “What do you know about him?”

Augustus doesn’t hesitate. “He was a student at Obsidian. One of the most gifted we have ever seen. Controlled his Shadows effortlessly with rare precision, immense power. Just before graduation, he discovered he could summon two Shadows at once.”

A chill prickles my skin.

“In gaining that control, he disrupted the Balance,” Augustus adds. “We suspected he used a forbidden spell. Or something equally unnatural. But we do not know for certain.”

He glances at me, eyes narrowing.

I lift my hands, mock-innocent. “No forbidden spell here. It just... happened.”

“I know,” he replies. “I read Wren’s report.”

Of course he did.

I scowl. “Anything else? Something not in the official Keeper log?”

“Only that his soul was twisted by what he touched. He stirred chaos in the realm. That should be enough.”

“I mean... sure.” But it isn’t. “You really believe people just wake up one day and decide to burn the world down?”

The second it’s out of my mouth, I pause as the thought settles uneasily, creating a pit in my stomach. Shit, maybe they do? Maybe that’s exactly what being a Dual means.

“The why is irrelevant,” Augustus states. “Wrong is wrong. The Balance does not weigh motive. Only result.”

I scoff under my breath. “That’s convenient. You get to skip the messy parts of the story that don’t fit your narrative.”

“There are… conflicting accounts,” he says after a pause.

I turn to face him. “Of what?”

“Of what truly happened. Of how it ended.” His expression tightens. “Some say your father destroyed him. Others claim he sealed him. A few believe Magnus went willingly into the void, sacrificing himself to preserve the Balance. The official record was... redacted.”

I blink. “Redacted?”

“By Keeper order,” he replies. “To maintain stability—and to prevent the resurgence of whatever magic Magnus used. The truth, whatever it is, was buried. Hidden from those who might try to exploit it.”

My stomach twists. “So no one actually knows?”

“No one agrees,” he says quietly. “Some records were lost. Others... deliberately erased. And those who might have truly known were either eliminated or vanished before they could speak.”

He pauses, gaze flicking toward me. “There are still those who would love to follow in his footsteps. Rogues. Traitors. Even some within the Balance.”

The more I learn, the less solid the ground feels beneath me. Like I’m chasing ghosts through a story everyone’s too afraid to finish.

As we press deeper into the woods, the trees stretch taller, blotting out the sky. The silence thickens. A curl of nausea twists in my stomach. This place is every nightmare I’ve ever had made real.

And now I’m walking back into it.

With Augustus. Who froze my friends without flinching. Who speaks like emotions are beneath him. Who is, apparently, celibate. What a wild fucking thought.

“Lilith,” Augustus says, suddenly beside me. His voice isn’t soft, but it isn’t sharp either. “You need to ease your mind. Fear interferes with resonance.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you seriously telling me to calm down again ?”

“I am telling you that I will be beside you the entire time,” he says, and—for once—there’s something like sincerity in his voice. “Keepers are anchors, not obstacles.”

He looks at me, dead-on. Steady. “I will be here. As your guide.”

I want to believe him. Maybe part of me even does.

“Fine. Let’s go,” I mutter.

The forest changes. The canopy above devours the last sliver of sunlight. The shadows press in around us, enveloping us. I let my magic rise, coating my skin like armor. Just in case.

Then I see it.

A light behind me.

I turn.

Augustus is glowing.

Not metaphorically either. Literally glowing.

His skin radiates soft, golden light. It spills outward in pulses, touching trees, ground, branches, and where it touches, the shadows retreat and the forest—this place of fucking nightmares—goes quiet. Calm even. As if the entire forest is holding its breath for him.

He doesn’t even notice.

It’s like he’s not even trying, and yet somehow, his presence remakes the world around him. The trees shimmer in his glow, softened, transformed.

I finally blink, stepping beside him, shielding my eyes. “Okay, so now I get it. You’re the flashlight.”

“If I could turn it off, believe me, I would,” he replies in his usual flat tone. “This is simply how the Balance manifests through me.”

“That’s not what I...” I start, then sigh and shake my head. Of course he missed the joke. Why did I even bother?

All this light makes me uneasy. I’m used to shadows. They hide me. Protect me. This much visibility? It feels like being peeled open.

I glance at him. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be here? I feel like we’re a lighthouse out at sea drawing in the ships right now.”

“If you want to stay under the radar, silence helps,” he replies. Then continues, “Magnus cannot see this light. Not if he has fallen fully into darkness. The fact that you see it is... promising.”

Up ahead, beyond his glow, a gash of pure shadow cuts across the forest like a wound. A rift. The trees there are twisted. Blackened. The light doesn’t reach them. Not even his.

It stretches like a fault line—a scar running deep into the island.

Augustus slows. “You see it too,” he says, and it’s not a question.

“What is it?” I breathe.

“This is where the Balance is weakest. The Keepers believe Magnus left a mark when he crossed the line.”

“So why isn’t this place warded?” I ask. “Or, I don’t know, guarded?”

Augustus doesn’t answer right away. His eyes track the twisted trees. “Because there was no sign of instability. Not until recently.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “What changed?”

He’s quiet for a beat too long. “We are not certain. But the running theory is…” His gaze flicks to me. “You.”

My stomach knots. “Me?”

“Duals shape the Balance in ways we don’t fully understand,” he says. “Your presence may have tipped the scales.”

My skin crawls.

And then it clicks.