MYSTERY OF SAINT HILLER DORMITORY

The night air in Saint Hiller felt heavier than usual. Dense grey clouds clung to the sky like smoke that refused to fade. The windows rattled gently in the wind, as though the castle itself was uneasy. Ever since the pendant on Brian Nicole’s chest had slightly opened on its own, he had barely slept. The memory of the red glowing symbols in the west hallway haunted him.

They pulsed in his dreams, in the corners of his vision, even in the brief silences between classes.

Even during meals in the bustling dining hall, where laughter echoed off ancient stone and silver clinked against ceramic, Brian couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. Every whisper behind him felt like a veiled threat. Every footstep that followed too long set his nerves on edge.

“You must choose... before they choose for you.”

Those were Silvester’s last words in the dream—words that clung to his mind like frost on glass.

---

That afternoon, after Arcana Studies, Lucian Calder intercepted Brian in a deserted corridor near the Alchemy Lab.

“We need to talk. Now,” Lucian muttered.

Without waiting for consent, he tugged Brian by the sleeve and led him past a row of dusty portraits and behind a seemingly ordinary bookcase. With a metallic click, Lucian inserted a jagged iron key into a hidden lock. The shelf groaned as it swung open, revealing a staircase spiraling downward into darkness.

Brian hesitated for only a second. Then he followed.

The air in the corridor was cooler, carrying the scent of melted wax, stone, and something far older—like forgotten time. Their footsteps echoed as they descended into a chamber deep beneath the castle.

The room they entered was oval, carved directly from the foundation rock. Hanging from the center was a tapestry of an eye with three irises, surrounded by intricate ancient glyphs.

“This is the Shadow Fellowship,” Lucian said. “We're the only ones left trying to maintain the balance at Saint Hiller.”

Around the room, six others stood waiting. Their faces serious, eyes bright with intelligence and suspicion. They looked nothing like ordinary students.

Brian recognized some from afar: Nika Lorne, with silver hair and a glare sharp enough to slice stone. Tomas Veyren, quiet and tall, with the stance of someone used to violence. In a corner sat Selene Ardyn, flipping through a worn, rune-covered book with fingers that glowed faintly blue.

Lucian continued, “I told them what happened. About the pendant… that it’s begun to awaken.”

All eyes turned to Brian. Not judgmental—just alert. Measuring.

Nika stepped forward. Her voice was calm, almost clinical. “Do you know what that means?”

Brian swallowed. “Not exactly.”

“It means you’re a target,” she said. “Saint Hiller will try to control you. So will the Order of the Nine. And... something older—something buried deep beneath these stones—is starting to stir.”

Brian looked at them all. “I don’t even know what I’m part of yet.”

Lucian gave a nod of understanding. “Which is why we’ll help you… if you choose to join us.”

Brian hesitated. His mind screamed for caution. But his heart... it knew he’d already crossed the threshold.

He nodded.

---

The Fellowship began his training that same night.

In a smaller chamber lit by floating candles, Nika handed him a small obsidian disc. “Focus on the pendant. It’s alive, in a way. Feel for its pulse. Guide it.”

Brian closed his eyes and gripped the pendant. Almost immediately, he sensed something—like a ripple in water, moving inward toward his chest.

A surge of warmth flooded his arms, followed by a flash of cold. Then… something else. His mind jolted awake, his vision stretching far beyond the room.

He saw a corridor just outside—empty stone walls, then suddenly, a flash of red. A figure cloaked in black passed silently, red eyes flickering like embers.

He gasped and broke the vision. “Someone’s out there!”

Tomas and Lucian moved instantly. They darted into the hallway, only to return a minute later.

“No one,” Tomas said. “But… the scent of darkness. Strong.”

Nika's brow furrowed. “They’re already watching. That was a Watcher.”

“A Watcher?” Brian asked.

“Spectral assassins,” Selene murmured, finally looking up from her book. “Sent by the Order of the Nine. If they’ve noticed your pendant, it means the old balance is tipping.”

---

The following morning, tension in the castle had thickened into something visible—like a fog nobody acknowledged. News spread that Professor Marr had vanished. His entire tower locked down without explanation.

In his place, the new instructor was Master Arvell—a gaunt man with a voice like grinding stone and a stare that could crack granite.

The first thing he said in class was, “Among us sits someone who has opened a gate that should have remained sealed.”

His eyes lingered on Brian for a second too long.

“If you are that someone… beware. The walls have ears. And our spies have sharper teeth than wolves.”

The warning wasn’t just for him. It was a challenge. A signal.

Brian didn’t sleep that night.

---

Back in the Fellowship chamber, Lucian spread out a yellowing map across the table. Dozens of thin red lines traced underground tunnels and forgotten chambers.

“This is Saint Hiller beneath Saint Hiller,” he said. “Some of these passages haven’t been walked in a hundred years.”

Nika pointed at a chamber near the west tower. “The Vindrae Archives. If your bloodline is what we think it is, that place holds the key.”

Brian felt the pendant warm against his chest, as if responding to the name.

Selene raised her eyes. “But the Archives are guarded by a Sealed Gate. They open only for blood bound to the Vindrae oath.”

Lucian met Brian’s eyes. “That means you.”

---

For the next four days, Brian trained without rest. He learned to sharpen his focus until he could see through stone. He learned to listen not with ears but with his aura—sensing thoughts, emotions, danger.

One evening, during a meditation, he opened his eyes and gasped. A soft red glow surrounded Lucian’s chest.

“What is that?” he asked.

Lucian gave a sad smile. “That’s an old scar. From the last war we fought—against those who tried to resurrect the Crimson God.”

Brian stared, chilled. “What happened?”

Lucian said nothing, but Tomas spoke for him. “He lost his brother in that war.”

Silence fell. Brian realized: the Fellowship wasn’t just a group. It was a battlefield family—bound by sacrifice.

---

The night they set out, the castle was eerily quiet.

Brian, Lucian, Nika, Tomas, and Selene met in the lower crypt. Each carried a small satchel, marked with protective sigils. Nika lit a thin green candle that made no smoke.

They moved through the tunnels in silence. At every turn, Brian sensed unseen things breathing in the dark—remnants of whatever ancient power the pendant had stirred.

Finally, they reached a massive stone door covered in spiraling glyphs and glowing lines of faint violet.

Etched above was an inscription in Old Vindraic:

*"Only the child of royal blood may enter. Others shall be judged."*

Brian stepped forward. He pressed the pendant to the center of the gate.

Nothing happened at first.

Then, slowly, lines of light expanded from the contact point, spreading like veins. The door shook, groaned, and cracked open, revealing a void of darkness.

Whispers slithered from inside like cold wind:

*"Heir of the shattered line... welcome."*

They entered.

---

The chamber inside was vast and silent. Rows of ancient tomes lined stone shelves. Dust coated everything. In the center stood a stone pedestal, upon which lay a single book—bound in black leather and sealed by three crimson threads.

“The *Grimoire Vindrae*,” Nika whispered.

Brian reached out. As his hand touched the book—

Something moved.

From the shadows, a figure leapt—a blur of claws and bone. Its eyes glowed red. The Watcher.

“Back!” Lucian shouted.

The creature lunged, and chaos erupted.

Selene raised her palms, casting a wave of energy that barely deflected its strike. Tomas charged forward, his sword drawn from nowhere. Nika chanted, her voice echoing like bells in the dark.

Brian stood frozen—then suddenly, the pendant burst with light, blinding everyone.

The Watcher screeched and recoiled, collapsing into smoke.

Silence.

Everyone turned to Brian.

The pendant had fully opened—revealing a second layer within. At its heart was a shifting black gem… shaped like an eye.

Lucian stared. “The Eye of Vindrae…”

And Brian finally understood:

This was no ordinary battle.

This was war.

And he had just stepped into its center.