Otter’s candle had burned low, its wax pooling unevenly in the brass holder. Shadows flickered against the walls of his dorm, stretching and warping with every uncertain shift of the flame. His desk was a disaster—books stacked precariously, loose parchment scattered like fallen leaves, ink stains smudged across the wood where he’d carelessly set his quill down hours ago. His wrisplay glowed faintly at his side, the soft light illuminating the countdown like a silent taunt.

  Four days, eleven hours, thirty-two minutes.

  Midterms loomed over him like a storm cloud.

  Otter rubbed his temples, eyes burning with exhaustion. He could hear the faint sounds of his dormmates moving about in the halls—muffled voices, the occasional door creaking open, footsteps fading into the quiet hum of the Academy at night.

  His fingers drummed absently against the edge of a textbook. He had to keep going.

  He had to keep up.

  For weeks now, every spare moment had been spent catching up—on lessons, on training, on existing in an Academy where everyone else seemed destined for greatness. And of course, searching for secrets.

  He flipped through a tome on Kaosborn classifications, scrawling notes in the margins of his paper. His quill scratched against the parchment, the only sound accompanying the soft crackle of the candle. He jotted down quick observations, facts he knew would be on the exam.

  Veil Stalkers—predators that phase in and out of reality.

  Lurkers—ambush creatures that thrive in confined spaces.

  Hollow Beasts—reanimated husks animated by residual Kaos energy.

  His hand paused, glancing at the pile on his desk.

  His life was now nothing but books. Books cluttering his living space. Books stuffed in his satchel to be read during lunch. And then there were the books at the Library.

  His shifts in the Library had become less about research and more about keeping up with the sheer influx of students preparing for midterms.

  There was hardly any time for mystery anymore.

  Even Piper had been buried in work. He’d barely seen her outside of their shared shifts, and when he did, she was running ledgers, recording book checkouts, and snapping at students who returned tomes with dog-eared pages.

  They’d both been drowning in responsibilities.

  The thought sent a flicker of guilt through him.

  Emrys Gale. The Restricted Section. His father.

  Piper was still searching. Still looking for answers, but her inquiries at the Adventurer’s Guild had turned up empty. They had no record of Varek’s bounty. It must have come from somewhere else.

  Otter sighed, running a hand through his hair. His brain was full for the moment. He needed a break. Maybe spend an hour at the Library looking for information on Gale.

  A sharp knock at the door startled him.

  “Otter?”

  It was Milo.

  Otter blinked, realizing how stiff his back had become from leaning over his desk for so long. “Yeah?”

  Milo cracked the door open, peering inside. His brows lifted slightly at the disaster that was Otter’s desk. “You’re still at it?”

  Otter yawned and stretched, wincing as his shoulders popped. “Just making sure I don’t fail spectacularly.”

  Milo gave him a knowing look. “Levi and I are heading to the Library. Thought you might want to study somewhere… less apocalyptic.”

  “Yeah,” he said, grabbing his satchel. “I was going to head over there anyway. I need a breather from all this.”

  The Academy’s Library was a sanctuary of knowledge. Its grand, arched ceilings stretched overhead like the ribcage of some long-dead beast, the glow of enchanted lanterns casting a warm, steady light across the rows of towering shelves. It was a fortress of learning.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  And tonight, it was packed.

  Students occupied nearly every available space—at tables, in corners, some even sitting cross-legged on the floor between shelves, books and scrolls spread out around them like battle plans.

  The low murmur of frantic whispers filled the air, stress and exhaustion palpable in every hunched shoulder and furrowed brow.

  Otter and Milo found Levi already at a table, fidgeting as he muttered formulas under his breath. His quill twirled between his fingers, ink smudging on the sleeve of his uniform.

  “Finally,” Levi said as they sat down. “I was starting to think you were planning to sleep through exams and let fate decide your grades.”

  Otter let out a tired sigh. “Tempting. But I figured the spectacle of my utter failure would be more entertaining.”

  Levi snorted but didn’t press.

  Across the Library, Otter spotted Erin and Liora, heads bent over their own books. Erin was deep in her notes, quill moving furiously, while Liora remained eerily composed, absorbing everything in her usual quiet way.

  Things between them had mostly returned to normal. They still sat together at meals, still studied together, still partnered together in Navigation and Survival without hesitation.

  But every so often, Erin would glance his way—like she was about to say something—only to stop herself at the last second. The moment would pass, the words unsaid, and she’d turn her attention elsewhere.

  Otter felt the gap between them like a loose thread in his shirt, small but impossible to ignore. He knew if he tugged at it, the whole thing might unravel. So instead, he left it alone and pretended not to notice.

  He sat at the table with Milo and Levi, staring blankly at his notes while their quills scratched across parchment. He could feel the weight of midterms pressing down, but his focus was nowhere near the words in front of him. Instead, his thoughts churned over everything—the bounty hunter, the Restricted Section, the rumors about his father.

  The Academy felt bigger than ever, but somehow, he still felt trapped.

  With a quiet sigh, he closed his notebook. “I need a walk.”

  Levi barely glanced up. “Try not to get abducted again.”

  Otter rolled his eyes and pushed away from the table. He wandered past rows of occupied desks, nodding to Piper as she hurried by with an armful of returns. The library was busier than usual, students hunched over books in a last-minute scramble before exams.

  He wasn’t sure where he was going, just that he needed something different—at least for a little while.

  His feet carried him deeper into the stacks, where the air grew still, untouched by the stress radiating from the study halls. The sounds of frantic page-turning and whispered debates faded. He let his eyes wander over the shelves. The section he found himself in was unfamiliar. He couldn’t recall ever reshelving anything here. Sometimes, it felt like the Library was a living thing, expanding and rearranging itself over time.

  Then his wrisplay buzzed.

  Otter stopped.

  The faint words flickered across the screen.

  Luck’s Whisper: Active.

  A familiar thrill ran down his spine. His gaze swept the shelves.

  The books here were different—not the polished, often-borrowed texts of the main hall, but older, dustier tomes. He ran his fingers along the cracked spines, following the pull of instinct.

  Then he saw it.

  A thick, timeworn volume, its title barely visible in the dim light. He pulled it free and brushed the dust from its cover.

  The Lost Paths: Unverified Accounts of Forgotten Classes

  A shiver of unease—and excitement—rolled through him.

  Otter flipped it open, the parchment stiff beneath his fingertips. The book was dense, filled with speculation, but one passage immediately caught his eye.

  "...Emrys Gale, one of the Academy’s founding figures, is speculated to have wielded a Class no longer recognized by the System. While official records list him as an Explorer, several conflicting accounts suggest abilities that do not align with any modern Class. Some sources claim he belonged to an era when additional, now-forgotten, Classes were available to Adventurers—paths that have since been lost to time, either by System intervention or deliberate suppression..."

  Otter’s breath caught.

  He read the passage again, heart pounding. Lost Classes?

  If the System had once offered Classes that no longer existed… what did that mean for him?

  His pulse thrummed in his ears. This wasn’t an answer—not yet—but it was something. A crack in the certainty that the System had left him behind. A sliver of possibility.

  Maybe he wasn’t broken. Maybe he wasn’t forgotten. Maybe there was still a path waiting for him.

  Before he could dig deeper, a voice cut through the quiet.

  “Ah. Mr. Bennett.”

  Otter snapped the book shut and turned to see Archivist Dane standing at the end of the aisle, her sharp eyes narrowing in disapproval.

  "You should know better than to loiter in the archives at this point in the semester,” she said coolly. “Your time would be better spent preparing for your exams.”

  Otter swallowed hard. “Yes, Archivist Dane.”

  Her gaze lingered on the book in his hands before she held out her palm.

  Otter hesitated but handed it over.

  Dane tucked it beneath her arm, then gestured toward the main hall. “Off you go.”

  Otter clenched his jaw but obeyed, stepping past her without another word. He had to tell Piper about this.

  By the time he returned to the study tables, Milo and Levi shot him questioning looks, but he just shook his head, dropped back into his seat, and scribbled a few notes in his notebook.

  He tried to focus, tried to force himself back into the rhythm of studying. But all he could think about was that book. The Midterm Trials loomed ahead, but now another challenge pressed at the edges of his mind.

  If Emrys Gale had walked a lost path… maybe Otter could find one too.