Page 3 of Darkness and Deceit (Obsidian Academy #2)

Two

LILITH

A single candle burns on the desk in front of me, but it might as well be a spotlight. Outside, storm clouds choke the sky, casting everything in shadows thick enough to feel like night.

Its flame dances, casting sharp shadows across my face while the rest of the room stays cloaked in darkness. The two men across from me sit still and silent—one scribbling notes, the other watching like he’s waiting for me to unravel.

Keepers.

Gods, I want to respect them. I really do. I should be awed.

But after hours in this stuffy room, after the same questions asked three different ways, after the silence, the scribbling, the way they look at me like a problem they still can’t solve… I’m struggling.

They act like they hold the realm together by sheer force of will and judgmental stares alone. Like the rest of us are just variables. Unknowns. Risks to be managed.

And me? I’m the biggest risk of all.

A Dual.

I shift in my seat, which is less of a chair and more of a punishment. It’s high-backed and straight, designed to keep me at attention. My back is killing me from the hours I’ve spent here.

I keep telling myself not to show weakness. Don’t let them see you sweat. But it’s getting harder with each passing moment. It’s as if I’m under a magnifying glass, where every syllable is being dissected and catalogued, and every pause or stutter is a potential sign of guilt.

“Begin again,” says the younger one on the left without looking up. His voice is clipped, polished, and absolutely void of humanity.

I grit my teeth. “We’ve already done this three times,” I say, and even I can hear the edge creeping in.

Without missing a beat—the older, red-haired Keeper—responds.

“Protocol requires repetition.” His voice is smooth, but the way he says protocol makes me want to claw at the stone beneath my feet.

He speaks like everything I am is a variable in a formula only he understands, an equation to be solved by subtraction.

Subtract the lies, subtract the fantasy, and maybe you’ll get to the residue of truth.

It’s fucking infuriating. I’ve never felt so raw, so exposed, so close to exploding. I want to scream, to pace, to hurl the damn candle at the wall, but there’s nowhere for the frustration to go except back inside me. It piles up behind my ribs, a pressure cooker, waiting for a vent.

Not to mention my head is pounding. My bladder is about to burst. I haven’t eaten. And now I’m supposed to recount every terrifying thing that’s happened like I’m reading it from a script. Again.

I clench my jaw and glance at the door. It’s sealed, of course—no guard necessary, just a lattice of invisible sigils keeping everything and everyone exactly where they’re meant to be.

I’m not a guest, not a prisoner, but something in between.

A liability under observation. My only company is the relentless candle flame and the unyielding eyes of the Keepers.

I take a shaky breath and rub at the tired ache behind my eyes.

“Fine,” I mutter, mostly to myself. “Let’s start the performance from the top.”

Neither of them so much as blinks. Of course not.

“Summoning my Shadow hasn’t been easy,” I begin, trying not to sound as tired as I feel. “But I guess you already know that.”

Neither responds. Don’t know why I thought they would.

“My fox came first. During my Shadowing. And while I was trying to do what we were taught, trying to focus, the forest didn’t feel normal.

It felt wrong. Like something was watching me.

The next thing I knew, I was running. That’s when the fox appeared.

It didn’t come because I called it—it came because I needed it. ”

I glance up, but their expressions don’t shift.

“That was the start. After that, I kept seeing darkness… in dreams, in reflections, even when I wasn’t sure I was awake. It didn’t feel like a part of me. More like… a warning. A ghost I couldn’t shake.”

I shift again, trying to find some relief from the chair digging into my spine.

“The second time was later. A few weeks, maybe. I went back into the forest with Simon. That’s when things got worse. There was something in the woods. Not a person. Not a Shadow. Something else. A presence, maybe.”

I pause, swallowing the tightness building in my throat.

“I panicked. I reached for my magic again and something answered. My deer. But when it touched me, it was like my body couldn’t hold the weight of it. I blacked out. And when I woke up, days had passed.”

I pull my shirt up, revealing the scar on my side just below my ribs.

“My magic doesn’t respond to me. It chooses. When to come. When to vanish. Like it’s its own creature. And I’ve got two.”

A beat of silence.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I add, softer now. “I didn’t go looking for power. But it keeps finding me anyway.”

I stare down at the scar on my ribs for another second before tugging my shirt back into place. Then I repeat the rest of the events that took place between then and now.

Afterward, the Keepers let silence take root.

I can’t tell if they’re displeased or just recalibrating their approach.

Maybe they’re hoping I’ll fill the space with more secrets if they hang me up on this hook long enough.

I fight the urge to squirm, to demand why my suffering needs a fucking encore.

The younger Keeper stands so abruptly his chair shrieks against the floor. He moves with the certainty of someone who’s never been questioned, not even in his own head.

In one stride, he closes the gap between us and I lean back out of instinct.

“Wait—”

He doesn’t. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t warn. He plants his hands on either side of my skull and my pulse skyrockets.

Pain explodes through my skull.

My vision goes white, then black, then white again.

I try to scream but I don’t know if any sound comes out.

It’s as if I’m being unzipped from the inside out, my thoughts ransacked for anything of value.

The Keeper is not careful. He tears through my memories as if flipping pages in a book, indifferent to what he shreds in the process.

I can’t breathe, can’t think past the agony.

My mind fractures and memories fly loose: Simon’s laughter, Kai’s hands, Vaughn’s snark.

The taste of rain and blood, the feeling of running for my life.

I try to hold on, but every memory is shredded into ribbons and flung into a void.

I sink through layer after layer of myself, losing track of what’s real and what’s just pain.

It lasts forever. Or maybe only a few seconds. Who knows.

When the Keeper lets go, I slump forward like a puppet with its strings cut.

“She is telling the truth,” he says, like he’s reporting on the weather. He smooths the front of his immaculate dark blue robes and sits back down. His hands are steady as he picks up his quill and writes his findings. “There is no deceit.”

I want to spit at them, but my mouth is too dry. I settle for glaring, though tears prick at my eyes and my face burns with humiliation. I hate that they know exactly what I’m thinking. I hate that I can’t stop them.

“Truth is only a comfort when it lasts,” the older one finally replies.

“What is that supposed to mean?” My voice cracks. “You don’t even know me.”

“We know enough,” he replies. “You are a Dual. That alone makes you a threat.”

My jaw tightens. “You say you serve the Balance,” I rasp, the words bitter on my tongue. “But all you’ve done is threaten me.”

The redhead doesn’t flinch. “We preserve the Balance,” he says. “Not individuals. Power without boundaries is chaos. And chaos threatens everything.

His voice is calm, even reasonable. But it hits colder than anything else they’ve said. This isn’t about protection. It’s about control.

Movement at the window catches my eye before I can respond. The presence is so abruptly familiar it makes my battered heart lurch.

Kai.

Eyes wild with panic and rage.

He must’ve felt the pain and the memory breach through the bond.

His lips move. My name, I think. Lilith.

He raises a hand, palm flat against the glass, and for half a heartbeat I believe the warded glass will shatter under the force of his will alone.

But before he can do anything, the older Keeper flicks his wrist. A blue sigil blazes across his palm, and Kai is yanked backwards like a marionette on an invisible string and disappears from view.

“No!”

I stagger out of the chair and slam my fists against the glass. “Kai!” My voice, hoarse and broken, ricochets around the room. “He didn’t do anything, you bastards!”

The redhead sighs. “Those kinds of dramatics will only complicate your situation, Ms. Knight.”

I turn on them, hands curled into fists, magic seething. Shadows flood my vision and the candle’s tiny flame stretches up, twisting into a miniature inferno.

“If you’ve hurt him—” My voice cracks, but the threat is real, and they know it.

The redhead waves a hand, and the magic vanishes. My knees nearly buckle.

“He is a Protector,” he says flatly. “Pain is part of the role.”

The younger Keeper flips through his notes calmly, barely glancing up to regard my outburst. “As are you,” he adds. “You will need to learn to withstand far worse if you are to serve the Balance.”

Something inside me twists.

I don’t answer him. I don’t trust what might come out of my mouth. A scream? A sob? A curse?

Instead, I lower myself back into the chair before the shaking in my knees can give me away.

The candle on the desk sputters. Flickers once. Then steadies.

Just like me.