Page 18 of Darkness and Deceit (Obsidian Academy #2)

Fifteen

AUGUSTUS

It’s been hours since we returned from the forest. Since Lilith collapsed. Since I turned away while the others carried her back into the Academy, and chose instead to wander.

I waited until they thought I was gone.

After the forest, I walked behind Lilith and the three Predators who flank her like shadows. I kept far enough back not to be noticed, but close enough to see her—close enough to see the way they orbited around her like she was the only thing keeping them steady.

Lilith did not look back. I do not think she knew I stayed close.

When they reached the Academy, she leaned into them—into the safety they offered—and I knew my presence was not needed. Perhaps not even wanted. So I turned away.

I have been walking the edge of the Keeper encampment ever since.

I should have returned hours ago. Should have reported everything promptly, without hesitation. But the truth is, I did not want to speak it out loud. Not yet.

That I found proof of Magnus.

But that he’s gone.

That Lilith collapsed under the weight of the resonance.

That I had no idea how to help her.

The thought settles in my gut like a cold stone. I was given one of the most important assignments of my training, and all I bring back is doubt. A broken thread. A flicker of fear. And Lilith—worse for wear, but still standing.

I steel myself and cross to the tent.

Mara waits just outside, her pale gaze lifted toward the stars like she’s listening for something beyond this realm. The night air is calm. Too calm. Like the world is mocking our unrest.

“Augustus,” she says without turning. “You have returned.”

“I have.” I pause. “Lilith is safe. But the mission… was not as successful as I hoped.”

Her eyes cut to mine. Cold. Evaluating. She says nothing, so I continue.

“I found evidence—residual energy, anchored chains. I believe it was one of Magnus’ holding sites. The magic was warped. Ancient. Possibly unstable. But he was already gone when we arrived.”

“And Lilith?”

“She sensed it. Immediately. She followed the pull until we reached the clearing. But whatever tether she connected to—it overwhelmed her. She collapsed. She’s stable now, but…”

“But?” Mara asks.

“She should have known,” I admit. “If that site truly held Magnus… It was buried in plain sight. Near the Academy. From the magical residue, I believe someone with a signature similar to Theodore Knight’s was involved in its construction.

But it bears layered seals—older than his time, and too complex to be done alone.

If it was him, he had Keeper support. Possibly even Keeper permission. ”

Mara doesn’t speak.

“I believe Keeper support was required to sanction it,” I press gently. “To maintain the warding. Which means someone in our order helped hide it—and did not pass that knowledge on.”

That gets her attention.

Her gaze sharpens. “These are not our people,” she says. “They serve the Balance as Protectors, but they are not Keepers. Their sacrifices are theirs to make. Their memory, theirs to carry.”

“I am not questioning our role,” I say carefully. “Only the wisdom of hiding something so dangerous near hundreds of students. If we knew, we could have guarded it better. Or warned?—”

Mara lifts a hand. Just a breath of motion, but it cuts me off.

“The Balance makes no mistakes. What you call secrecy, I call sanctity. That holding site remained untouched for years because no one knew to disturb it. That is not a failure. That is proof of the Balance protecting itself.”

She delivers the words like scripture. Measured. Memorized.

But for the first time, I feel the hollowness beneath them.

I nod slowly, even as my stomach turns.

“There is more at work than you understand,” Mara adds. “And more than you need to.”

“I understand,” I say. “But I struggle to accept it.”

She regards me for a long moment. “Then continue to struggle, Augustus. So long as it does not interfere with your duty… it is tolerable.”

I do not know if that is comfort or warning.

Maybe both.

After a pause, she shifts gears. “And Lilith Knight. What is your impression?”

“She is inexperienced,” I answer. “Impulsive. But loyal. She did not hesitate when it mattered. And she is not dangerous— not in the way we feared. She listens to the Balance. I believe that.”

Mara exhales slowly. Almost imperceptibly.

“One Dual nearly unraveled the realm,” she says. “We cannot afford a second.”

“I understand.”

“I want you to keep a close eye on her,” Mara continues. “Observe her behaviors. Track her loyalties. Ensure she stays… cooperative.”

The phrasing snags something in me—not because it is unusual, but because it is so familiar.

This is what we do.

We observe. We measure. We report. We do not interfere.

But Lilith is not something that can be measured.

“Of course,” I reply, because that is what I am expected to say. But the words feel wrong in my mouth. Too sharp-edged to swallow.

If Mara had seen what I did—if she had felt the way Lilith’s power surged in that clearing, wild and unconfined, drawn not by training but by raw instinct—she might realize what I am only beginning to understand:

Lilith does not operate by our rules.

She felt the tether when I could not. She followed it without waiting for permission. And when it broke her open, she did not shield herself in shame. She let it show. All of it. The strength. The pain. The rage.

I have spent my whole life burying those things.

And watching her refuse to? It has unsettled something in me.

She looked at me like I was supposed to do something—not recite protocol, not offer doctrine. Just… see her . Be with her. And I did not know how to.

That shame clings tighter than the failure to find Magnus.

I thought I understood what the Balance required. What it meant to serve it without question. But standing beside her, watching her break and burn and still get back up—I felt something shift.

Like maybe the Balance does not want blind obedience.

Maybe it wants conviction.

The kind that burns even when it’s stifled. That questions instead of echoes. That fights to do what is right and not what is easy.

And if that is true… everything I have built myself on will start to crack.

When Lilith looked at me, eyes lit with something ancient and furious, I felt it.

A thread.

Something tethered between us. I do not know what it is. A mistake? A warning? A bond?

But it is there all the same.

And Lilith does not belong to us. Not really. She never will. But the deeper truth—the one I have not said aloud, not even to myself until now—is this:

Part of me does not want her to.

One day, someone will have to choose between protecting her and following orders.

I know that already.

And if I am being honest with myself…

I am terrified I have already chosen.

I just do not know what that makes me. I have spent years defining myself by duty—by obedience. But now, the lines blur.

What if protecting her is not a betrayal, but a calling?

What if following her is not defiance, but something else?

If loyalty to her means questioning everything I was raised to believe… I do not know where that leaves me.

But I cannot deny it.

Something is shifting.