Page 27 of Darkness and Deceit (Obsidian Academy #2)

Twenty-Four

AUGUSTUS

The Balance hums wrong.

It is not just the ground that is scorched or the air that stinks of ash and blood. Something deeper has shifted. Like a thread pulled loose at the center of a tapestry. We keep moving, keep patching, pretending it can hold. But I can feel it unraveling.

I felt it before the attack. But afterward, it deepened, like something split wide.

The magic here used to hum. Now it feels… splintered. Like something is bleeding into the ley lines. Something that does not belong.

And if I am honest, it is not just the realm that is fracturing.

It is also me.

Mara approaches without a sound. She has always been like that—so still, so composed, as if her magic steadies every step, her deep blue robes shifting with the breeze. She stops beside me on the wall overlooking what is left of the forest.

The scent of burnt wood and rot claws at the back of my throat. The trees that once stood proud now lie twisted, blackened skeletons. The academy survived, but only just. The forest—once a sanctuary—a sacred place where every potential Protector goes through their Shadowing, has become a graveyard.

I speak first, if only to break the silence before it devours us. “Three senior Predators confirmed dead. Kenna O’Reily, Joshua Donovan, Yu Maki.” Their names taste like ash on my tongue. “There may be more. Some have not been identified yet and some are still missing.”

Mara does not so much as flinch. “No losses among our Keepers.”

I glance at her. She doesn’t sound relieved. Only resigned. As if our survival was inevitable, while theirs was expendable.

I want to say that loss is loss. That these Protectors died shielding their fellow students and us. That their deaths matter. But I bite it back.

Instead, I nod. Though the motion feels like betrayal.

It did not used to.

Before coming to Obsidian Academy, I would have believed in everything she said without question. The Keepers’ word was gospel. Our duty to the Balance was absolute. But now… every breath here feels like it is pulling me in two directions.

The truth is, the Rogues did not come for the Keepers.

They came for the academy.

They came for her.

And whether Mara will admit it or not, we both know Lilith Knight was the real target.

I have seen the way the Balance moves around her. I have felt the tug in the threads when she steps into a room. She is not only powerful—she is catalytic. Like a match held too close to dry kindling.

And I cannot get her out of my head.

Her eyes, defiant even when surrounded. The pulse of her magic when she pushed through pain and panic. The impossible feel of her presence—Predator and Prey, fury and mercy, all at once. It does not make sense. It should not. But somehow… it does.

Mara’s voice cuts through the fog in my mind. “You question our role in this.”

It is not a question.

And for a moment, I am too tired to lie.

I exhale slowly, watching a young Predator across the clearing. He is hunched by a scorched patch of earth, shoulders trembling. Grieving. His hands are blackened with ash.

“He was still a student,” I murmur.

Mara follows my gaze. “They all are.”

“So were we.”

Her silence is answer enough.

She turns to me, voice cool as ever. “The Rogues seek to fracture what little order remains. If we scatter ourselves trying to protect every academy, every student, we will break. You know that.”

I do. But it does not make it right.

“We were meant to preserve the Balance,” I say quietly. “But lately, it feels like we’re hoarding it. Deciding who’s worth saving. Choosing who gets to be protected.”

Something twists in Mara’s expression. Something that might be disappointment. Or warning. I can not tell anymore.

“We are still recovering,” she says. “Other temples are reinforcing their defenses. We have requested reinforcements for the academy—seventeen, from the northern Keep. They will help restabilize the perimeter.”

“Seventeen is not enough.”

“It is all we could spare.”

I grit my teeth. I want to believe that. I really do. But I am starting to see the cracks in the story I have been told my whole life. The noble mission. The sacred duty. The illusion of control.

Maybe we are not the ones holding the Balance steady anymore.

Maybe we are just trying to convince ourselves we still can.

Mara’s voice softens. “Bonding will be expedited. Younger Keepers, especially. Including you.”

My head snaps toward her. That is not something they do lightly. Bonding a Keeper and a Protector is sacred. Rare. Usually done with time and ceremony.

This? This reeks of desperation.

Still, I bow my head. “Understood.”

Her eyes narrow, but she does not press.

“One more thing,” she says. “One of the Protectors arriving is Lilith Knight’s father. This is not to be shared—not yet. The truth must wait.”

My thoughts still. “Of course.”

But even as I speak, something clenches in my chest.

Because secrets do not keep forever. And if this is how we treat the truth—like something dangerous to be hidden—then maybe it is not just the Balance that is cracking.

Maybe it is us.

Maybe Lilith Knight is the only one hearing the cracks—and daring to follow the sound.

I leave Mara without a word.

It is not that I do not know what to say. It is that I know exactly what would come out of my mouth—and none of it would serve anyone but myself.

Seventeen reinforcements. Encroaching instability. A scryer result I still have not reported.

I need space. Somewhere beyond the boundaries of diplomatic language and curated calm. Somewhere I can hear myself think without hushed whispers and dozens of eyes on me.

The forest is quiet tonight, but it is not the peaceful kind. The image of Lilith touching the tether scryer, it flaring, and the threads fracturing and blooming with purple light will not leave me.

It is all I have thought about since.

Four threads.

One reached for Kai. Two more shot off in different directions of the academy.

And the last… went toward me.

I have tried every way to rationalize it. Maybe it was not really aiming toward me, only in my direction. But I… I think I felt a tug in my chest.

Keepers do not mate. We cannot. It is forbidden.

But…

No. I cannot go there. I must not.

Because I know what the Keepers would do if they knew there might be a connection between us.

They would study it.

They would sever it.

And if they could not?—

They would sever her .

A branch snaps behind me.

I do not turn right away. I know who it is. Her magic has a steady, purposeful rhythm to it I recognize now.

“Augustus,” Lilith calls out. I do not react at first. “Hey, don’t bother pretending you can’t hear me. I know you can.”

I breathe in. Hold it. Let it out slowly. Carefully tuck all of my emotions away and then I turn.

She stands a few paces back, her black hair with purple streaks neatly braided. There are shadows under her eyes, but her jaw is set. It is obvious she has not slept much, if at all.

“You should be resting,” I say awkwardly, wincing internally.

She crosses her arms. “You should be reporting what the tether scryer showed.”

I say nothing.

“You saw it react to me,” she continues, stepping forward. “Those threads. You know what they are. Or you suspect . And yet… you’ve said nothing.”

“I was going to?—”

“No,” she cuts in. “You weren’t . You were going to pretend it didn’t happen. Because it scared you.”

That lands harder than I expect.

“You’re not wrong,” I admit.

She doesn’t back off. “Tell me. What do they mean?”

I pause, choosing each word with precision. “The scryer doesn’t create anything. It reveals. The magic you saw was simply drawn out by your touch. The threads you saw are real. And they exist whether we speak of them or not.”

She doesn’t hesitate. “And the one that pointed to you?”

I, on the other hand, do hesitate.

Finally, I whisper, “I don’t know.”

Which is not a lie. Not entirely.

She stares at me, like she’s weighing whether or not to call me on it.

“I think you do.”

The silence stretches between us, thick with everything neither of us can afford to say aloud.

She looks away first, gazing off into the forest. “You’re afraid of what the Keepers will do.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes find mine again. “To me?”

“To you. To Kai. To whoever those other threads lead to. The Keepers… are set in their ways, Lilith.”

“That’s not right. Complacency breeds stagnation. And stagnation rots from the inside out.”

I nod once, slowly. “You are right. Throughout my life I have watched them enforce stillness and call it peace,” I admit. “Watched them punish change and call it chaos.”

“Is that what I am to them?” she asks. “Chaos?”

I shake my head. “You are what comes after.”

Lilith goes still.

I did not mean to say it aloud. Did not plan to. But the moment leaves no room for lies.

“You are not a weapon, Lilith,” I continue. “You are a fulcrum. The Balance bends toward you, whether it means to or not.”

“Well, that’s certainly not comforting.”

“It is not meant to be.”

She huffs a breath—half laugh, half exhale—and looks past me toward the carnage.

“I can’t pretend it didn’t happen,” she finally says at last. “The scryer, I mean. The way it felt seeing those threads . Even if I wanted to… I think something inside me shifted when it lit up like that. Like a door opened and can never close again.”

“It did,” I reply quietly.

She glances at me. “And you’re just going to keep this quiet?”

“I’m going to protect it,” I correct. “You, if I can. But this—” I gesture toward her, toward the simmer of magic between us, “—this isn’t something they’ll study in a lab. This is something they’ll bury in a tomb.”

She doesn’t flinch.

“I won’t let them,” she says.

And I believe her.

“Then we’re aligned,” I say.

“For now,” she replies. Not a threat. A fact. “You never answered one thing,” she continues. “That thread. The one that pointed to you. If it’s real… what does that mean for you?”

I hesitate—but only for a moment.

“It means the line I was never supposed to cross has already moved beneath my feet.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” I say softly. “It is a warning.”

Her gaze lingers on mine for a long, silent beat.

Then something shifts in the air behind her.

Lilith shivers, and even the Balance itself seems to flinch.

I turn my attention to the forest, eyes narrowing at the trees.

“What is it?” she asks.

I don’t answer right away because I cannot yet name it. But the disturbance in the Balance thrums through me like a warning bell.

“There is something out there,” I murmur. “Something... wrong.”

I am already moving before I realize I have made the choice.

Lilith hesitates for only a breath then falls into step beside me.