The days following their discovery in the grove passed in a haze for Soya Vareen. The castle''s daily hum of life—the clatter of plates in the Great Hall, the murmured conversations in classrooms, the occasional burst of laughter from older students in the corridors—felt distant, almost muted. He moved through his routine mechanically, but his mind was a whirlwind of fear and doubt.


    Eliza had taken it upon herself to dive deeper into research. Every spare moment she wasn’t in class, she was holed up in the library, her notes growing in size and complexity. She insisted they needed answers and that time was of the essence. Davonte helped when he could, but his approach was more relaxed, often veering into jokes to keep their spirits up.


    But Soya? He found himself pulling away.


    It wasn’t a conscious decision at first. It started with small things: staying a little longer at breakfast to avoid the rush to the library, offering to help with simple tasks for professors so he wouldn’t have to join the others. Soon, he was spending more time in classes and quiet corners of the castle, sketching magical creatures or revising basic charms.


    Soya sat cross-legged in the Thylacea common room one evening, his calico kitten curled in his lap. The soft crackle of the fireplace filled the space as older students murmured nearby, their voices blending into a comforting background hum. His sketchbook rested against his knees, and he was halfway through a drawing of the Golden Fletchling they’d seen in the grove.


    His pencil hovered over the page, but his focus wavered. The image of Sevrin and Sage standing over the rune played over and over in his mind. The cold calculation in their voices, the way they had so easily erased evidence—it all felt too much for him to process.


    What am I even doing? he thought, his chest tightening. I’m not brave like Eliza or confident like Davonte. I’m just... me.


    His kitten stirred, pressing its tiny nose against his hand. He absentmindedly scratched behind its ears, but the gesture did little to ease the turmoil inside him. The thought of sneaking out again, of uncovering even more dangerous secrets, made his stomach churn.


    He was only eleven.


    The next morning, Soya sat alone in the Great Hall, poking at a bowl of porridge. Eliza had already left for the library, and Davonte was trying to convince a group of second-years to join him in practicing dueling techniques later. The chatter of students around him felt like static, an incessant buzz he couldn’t tune out.


    “You look like you’ve seen a banshee,” Davonte’s voice cut through the noise as he slid onto the bench beside him. “What’s up?”


    Soya hesitated, staring into his porridge as though it held the answers. “Nothing,” he mumbled.


    Davonte wasn’t convinced. He tilted his head, his silver eyes narrowing slightly. “Come on, mate. I know that look. Spill.”


    “It’s just...” Soya started, then faltered. How could he explain the weight pressing on him without sounding ridiculous? He bit his lip, then tried again. “Do you ever feel like... maybe we shouldn’t be doing this? Like, what if we’re in over our heads?”


    Davonte’s expression softened, and he leaned back slightly. “Of course I do. This whole thing is mental, isn’t it? Runes, basilisks, professors keeping secrets—it’s not exactly what we signed up for.”


    “Exactly,” Soya said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re just first-years. We’re not supposed to be dealing with things like this. What if we mess up? What if... what if someone gets hurt?”


    Davonte was quiet for a moment, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. “Look, I get it. This is scary. But if we don’t try to figure this out, who will? The professors are obviously keeping us in the dark, and Sevrin and Sage—well, you saw them. They’re up to something, and it’s not good.”


    “But what can we even do?” Soya asked, his voice cracking slightly. “We’re just kids.”


    Davonte smiled faintly, placing a hand on Soya’s shoulder. “Yeah, we’re just kids. But sometimes, kids notice things adults don’t. And we’ve got each other, right? You don’t have to do this alone.”


    Soya nodded, though the knot in his chest didn’t entirely loosen. The truth was, he wasn’t sure if he could keep going. The fear was always there, a shadow that followed him no matter how hard he tried to push it away.


    Later that day, during their free period, Soya found himself wandering the castle grounds. The fresh air helped clear his head, but it didn’t silence the doubts that gnawed at him. He stopped near the edge of the lake, the water reflecting the pale afternoon sky.


    Sitting on a flat rock, he pulled out his sketchbook and began to draw. The pencil moved instinctively, capturing the curves of a Glowvine Boa winding through the trees. As he worked, the world around him faded, and for a brief moment, the fear and uncertainty melted away.


    But then his hand slipped, the line on the page jagged and out of place. He stared at the mistake, his chest tightening. It felt like a metaphor for everything he was feeling—trying so hard to make sense of things, only to stumble and falter.


    He sighed, closing the sketchbook and hugging it to his chest. The water lapped gently at the shore, its rhythmic sound soothing but not enough to quiet the storm inside him.


    I don’t know if I can do this, he thought, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like never before.


    The next few days passed in a blur, and Soya felt more like an observer of his own life than an active participant. Classes came and went, meals were eaten, and the routine of castle life carried on around him. But no matter how much he tried to focus on his studies or lose himself in his drawings, the weight of everything they’d uncovered pressed relentlessly on his mind.


    Eliza, meanwhile, was as determined as ever. She spent nearly all her free time in the library, often returning to the common room with stacks of notes and books, her green eyes alight with purpose. Each evening, she would corner Soya and Davonte in the quietest corner of the common room to share her findings.


    On the fourth evening, Eliza placed her notebook on the table between them with a decisive thud. “Alright,” she said, brushing a loose strand of auburn hair out of her face. “I think I’ve finally pieced some of this together.”


    Davonte leaned forward, feigning dramatic anticipation. “Please, enlighten us, oh wise one.”


    Eliza ignored him, flipping open her notebook to reveal a series of neatly drawn diagrams and notes. “So, here’s what I’ve figured out. The rune we saw near the lake? It’s definitely not standard. It has elements of summoning magic, but also containment. Whoever drew it knew exactly what they were doing.”Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    “Okay,” Soya said quietly, his fingers fiddling with the corner of his sketchbook. “But what does that mean?”


    “It means,” Eliza continued, her tone serious, “that the basilisk didn’t just wander into the grove by accident. Someone brought it there—and they used that rune to control it.”


    Davonte frowned, leaning back in his chair. “Control it? Why would anyone want to do that? Basilisks aren’t exactly easy pets.”


    “I don’t know,” Eliza admitted, her brow furrowing. “But it’s not just about the basilisk. I’ve been looking into the patterns Professor Byrah mentioned—the other basilisks that have appeared in strange places. In almost every case, there were reports of magical disturbances beforehand. Runes, strange lights, disappearing creatures. It’s all connected.”


    Soya swallowed hard, the knot in his chest tightening further. “But why would someone do that? What’s the point?”


    “That’s the part I can’t figure out,” Eliza said, frustration creeping into her voice. “But it’s not random. Whoever’s behind this has a plan—and they’re powerful enough to pull it off.”


    The weight of her words settled over the group, and for a moment, none of them spoke. Soya stared at the diagrams in Eliza’s notebook, the intricate lines of the rune seeming to blur together as his thoughts spiraled.


    Later that night, as Soya lay in bed, the reality of their situation pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket. He stared up at the ceiling, the flickering light from his kitten’s enchanted collar casting faint patterns on the stone. His mind raced, replaying the events of the past week over and over.


    It was too much. Too big. Too dangerous.


    He wasn’t like Eliza or Davonte. He didn’t have their confidence, their courage. He was just... ordinary. Before coming to Austramore, his life had been simple—school, weekends at home, sketching in the park. Magic had been something he’d read about in books, not something he lived.


    Now, everything was different. He was a wizard. A Muggle-born wizard, no less—the first in centuries to attend Austramore. And with that came expectations he wasn’t sure he could meet. People whispered about him in the halls, watched him during lessons, waiting for him to prove he belonged.


    And then there was this—this secret, this dangerous plot that felt like it belonged in a story, not in his life. He wanted to believe they could figure it out, that they could help, but the truth was, he was scared. Terrified, even. Of the basilisk, of the runes, of Sevrin and Sage... but most of all, of failing.


    The next morning, Soya found himself wandering the castle grounds during a free period. The crisp air and the faint scent of eucalyptus helped clear his mind, but only slightly. He sat by the lake, sketchbook in hand, but his pencil moved aimlessly across the page. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus.


    Eliza’s voice echoed in his mind: Someone brought the basilisk here.


    Why would someone do that? What could they possibly gain? And why did it feel like every step they took brought them closer to something even more dangerous?


    Soya clenched his pencil tightly, his chest tightening as fear threatened to overwhelm him. What could he possibly do against something like this?


    His kitten mewed softly, nuzzling against his arm, and he let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to relax. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, the words barely audible.


    The kitten purred, its small warmth a tiny comfort against the storm raging inside him.


    By the time Soya returned to the common room that evening, Eliza was back at the table with another stack of notes. Davonte was already there, munching on a biscuit and making occasional quips as Eliza explained her latest theories. Soya hesitated in the doorway, unsure if he was ready to face the weight of their research again.


    “Hey, Soya!” Davonte called, waving him over. “You’ve got to hear this. Eliza’s cracked another part of the mystery wide open.”


    Soya managed a small smile as he joined them, but his heart wasn’t in it. As Eliza launched into her explanation, her passion and determination shining through, Soya felt a pang of guilt. She was doing so much, pushing forward with a courage he couldn’t seem to find. And Davonte, even with his jokes and laid-back attitude, was right there beside her, ready to face whatever came next.


    But Soya? He felt like a shadow, always a step behind, always unsure.


    He nodded along as Eliza spoke, forcing himself to listen even as doubt gnawed at him. He wanted to help. He wanted to be brave. But he wasn’t sure if he could.


    The days following Eliza’s revelations passed with an unsettling normalcy. Classes went on as usual, the hum of student chatter filled the halls, and the castle grounds remained alive with activity. Yet for Soya, a persistent undercurrent of anxiety marred everything. Each time Eliza returned from her research, her notes more detailed and her determination more palpable, he felt the weight of their situation pressing down on him.


    One chilly morning, Soya noticed the first sign something was wrong.


    Eliza wasn’t at breakfast.


    At first, it didn’t seem unusual—students occasionally overslept or skipped meals to finish assignments. But when lunchtime came and went without her appearing, Soya’s unease grew. By the time their afternoon classes began, whispers were spreading among the Thylacea students.


    “Where’s Eliza?” Davonte asked, frowning as they walked to their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. “She hasn’t missed a class all term.”


    Soya shook his head, his grip tightening on his satchel. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s still in the library?”


    “Doubt it,” Davonte replied, his voice tense. “Madam Lorelei would’ve sent her packing by now. And I checked the common room—she’s not there either.”


    By the end of the day, Eliza’s absence was impossible to ignore. Even Professor Marilla had glanced at her empty seat with a brief flicker of concern during class, though she didn’t say anything. When the students returned to the Thylacea common room that evening, the usual lively chatter felt muted, replaced by murmurs about where Eliza might be.


    The next morning, Soya sat in the Great Hall, staring at his untouched plate of toast and eggs. Davonte dropped into the seat beside him, his usually bright demeanor subdued. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “I asked around. No one’s seen her since two nights ago.”


    Soya’s stomach churned. “Do you think... do you think something happened to her?”


    Davonte hesitated, his silver eyes darkening. “I don’t know, mate. But whatever’s going on, it’s not normal. And I’m not going to just sit around and wait for answers.”


    “What do you mean?” Soya asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice.


    “I mean I’m going to keep digging,” Davonte said firmly. “Eliza was onto something—something big. And if someone’s trying to stop her, then they’re hiding something worth knowing.”


    Soya swallowed hard, his throat dry. “But what if... what if it’s too dangerous? What if we...”


    Davonte placed a hand on Soya’s shoulder, his expression softening. “I get it, Soya. You’re scared. I am too. But Eliza wouldn’t give up on us. And I’m not giving up on her.”


    Soya spent the rest of the day in a haze, torn between his fear and the gnawing guilt of doing nothing. He attended his classes, answered questions when called upon, and nodded politely during conversations, but his mind was elsewhere. Each time he thought of Eliza—her determined smile, her sharp wit—his chest tightened with a mix of worry and self-loathing.


    That evening, he sat alone in the corner of the common room, his sketchbook open on his lap. His kitten curled up beside him, purring softly, but the sound did little to soothe him. The pages of his sketchbook were filled with drawings of magical creatures, intricate landscapes, and half-finished designs for a Tideball banner he’d been working on before everything had gone wrong.


    He flipped to a blank page, his hand moving automatically as he began to sketch. The pencil glided across the paper, forming the outline of a sleek, dragon-like creature. Its wings were spread wide, its sharp eyes fierce and alive. Soya poured his emotions into the drawing—his fear, his anger, his helplessness—until the creature seemed almost ready to leap off the page.


    And then it did.


    For a brief moment, the lines of the drawing shimmered, the creature’s form glowing faintly as though lit from within. Its wings twitched, its tail curled, and its eyes locked onto Soya’s with an intensity that made his breath catch.


    He froze, his heart pounding as the creature shifted on the page, its movements fluid and lifelike. His kitten hissed, its fur bristling as it backed away. Soya’s hand trembled, his pencil falling to the floor with a soft clatter.


    Just as quickly as it had come to life, the creature faded, its glow dimming until it was nothing more than ink on paper again. Soya stared at the drawing, his mind reeling.


    “What... what was that?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.


    The kitten crept back onto his lap, its small body trembling as it pressed against him for comfort. Soya stroked its fur absently, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Was it a spell? A trick of the light? Or was it something else—something connected to the strange magic that seemed to follow him wherever he went?


    The incident left Soya shaken, but he told no one. Not Davonte, not the professors, not even the kitten, who seemed just as bewildered as he was. He tucked the sketchbook under his pillow that night, unable to bring himself to look at the drawing again.


    Over the next few days, the weight of Eliza’s absence grew heavier. Davonte threw himself into research with a single-minded determination that bordered on obsession, while Soya drifted between classes and the common room, his mind plagued by doubt.


    He wanted to help. He wanted to be brave, to stand by his friends and uncover the truth. But the memory of Eliza’s empty seat and the glow of his own drawing haunted him, a constant reminder of how out of his depth he truly was.


    What could he do? He was just a boy—a boy who barely understood the magical world he’d been thrust into. If someone as smart and capable as Eliza could disappear, what chance did he have? And if he followed the same path, wouldn’t they come for him too?


    The questions swirled endlessly in his mind, and with each passing day, the weight of his fear grew heavier. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but one thing was clear: the road before him was dark and uncertain, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to walk it.