The week dragged on with the usual routine of lectures, training, and cafeteria meals, but Arios felt the undercurrent of unease more clearly than before. His suspicions about Garron had not faded. In fact, every time he saw the instructor striding through the halls, he found himself narrowing his eyes, wondering how much truth lay hidden behind that calm, instructive mask.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong, a gut instinct he had learned to trust in his brief but turbulent past. The academy was a place of supposed learning and safety, a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world, yet it harbored a shadow that Arios was determined to bring into the light.

He replayed their brief interactions, searching for any subtle sign, a tremor in Garron's voice, a flicker in his eyes, anything that would confirm what his heart already knew. Garron, for his part, seemed to grow more composed with each passing day, a practiced serenity that only heightened Arios's suspicion.

On one particular afternoon, after classes had ended, Chase entered a quiet office room in the faculty wing. His sharp steps carried authority, and the faint smirk on his face never wavered. He moved with the confidence of a man who held all the cards, his every gesture a calculated display of power. Sitting at a desk inside, Garron looked up, his brows slightly furrowed. He had been reviewing student files, a tedious but necessary task, and the interruption was unwelcome.

"You're late," Garron muttered, his voice a low grumble. He didn't look at Chase directly, instead focusing on a report, as if trying to assert some semblance of control over the situation.

Chase ignored the complaint, closing the door behind him with a soft click that seemed to seal them in a bubble of shared conspiracy. "We have a problem. Arios has been sniffing around. He's been in the archives, digging into records. He's already piecing together parts of your past." Chase's tone was cold and precise, a surgeon's diagnosis of a spreading infection. He leaned against the closed door, arms crossed, the smirk on his face a stark contrast to the gravity of his words.

Garron stiffened but quickly tried to mask it by leaning back in his chair, affecting a casual nonchalance he didn't feel. "He doesn't have proof. Just suspicions." He said the words with a practiced certainty, as though repeating them enough would make them true. But the slight tremor in his hands, hidden beneath the desk, gave him away.

Chase stepped closer, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "And suspicions are enough if he feeds them to the wrong people. The council is a pack of wolves, Garron, and they smell weakness. You need to control this before it spreads. If the council thinks you're a liability, I won't be able to shield you." Chase's voice dropped, becoming a low, dangerous whisper. "My protection is not infinite, and neither is their patience." He wasn't just warning Garron; he was reminding him of their power dynamic, of who held the reins and who was merely a tool.

Garron clenched his jaw, fingers drumming a rapid, nervous rhythm against the desk. "So what do you suggest? Eliminate him?" The question was a desperate one, born of panic and a desire to make the problem vanish. It hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the lengths to which Garron was willing to go.

"No," Chase said flatly. "That would be messy and obvious. Arios has built up too much attention around him already. He's become a symbol of sorts, a beacon for the other students. If he vanishes or is harmed, the academy will explode in chaos. The last thing we need is a full-blown rebellion." Chase paced the small room, his thoughts a whirlwind of strategic calculations. "What you need to do is… contain him. Make him doubt. Make him second-guess himself. Talk to him directly. If you can steer him away, or even twist his suspicions, it will buy time. Time is our most valuable asset right now. It allows us to prepare, to lay down a more intricate plan."

Garron frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening. "You want me to invite him?" The idea seemed absurd, counterintuitive. Why would he willingly bring the problem closer?

"Yes," Chase replied, his voice firm and unwavering. "A private discussion. Somewhere he won't expect an outright confrontation, but where you can measure him. A place that feels safe, but is anything but. If he's truly onto something, you'll sense it. You'll see it in his eyes, in the way he holds himself. If he's just fishing, you can mislead him with half-truths and well-placed lies. You can spin a narrative that makes him look foolish for even asking. The key is to control the narrative, Garron. To make him feel as though he's the one who is confused, not you."

Garron muttered under his breath, but he understood the logic. The plan was a risky gamble, but it was also the only one that didn't involve an outright, messy conflict. "Fine. I'll arrange something. But if he doesn't take the bait—"

"He will," Chase interrupted with a confident smirk. "Arios can't resist chasing after threads. It's a flaw in his nature, a deeply ingrained need to uncover the truth. That's what makes him dangerous, but also predictable. Set the stage, and he'll come to you. He'll see it as an opportunity, a chance to get the answers he's been looking for. And when he does, you'll be ready."

Chase turned toward the door, pausing just before leaving. "Do not underestimate him, Garron. He isn't like the others. He has a fire in his eyes that I haven't seen in a very long time. Treat him lightly, and you'll regret it. He is a force of nature, and you cannot simply wish him away." With that, Chase exited, leaving Garron alone with his own simmering thoughts and a profound sense of dread. He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of the task settling on his shoulders like a lead cloak. He had become a pawn in a game far larger than he had ever imagined, and his only hope was to play his part well enough to survive.

The next day passed without much difference for Arios, but when the afternoon bell rang, he noticed Garron's gaze linger on him longer than usual in the training yard. It wasn't the passing glance of an instructor, but a deep, calculating stare, as though Garron were weighing him, measuring his worth. Garron approached, his tone measured but carrying a forced casualness that set Arios's teeth on edge. It was the sound of a predator trying to sound like a friend.

"Arios," Garron said, stopping a few feet away. "I'd like to speak with you privately after class tomorrow. There are matters regarding your performance and… future prospects that I think we should discuss." The words were a flimsy excuse, a transparent veil over a more sinister purpose.

Arios kept his face neutral, but inside, every warning bell rang with a deafening clamor. He met Garron's gaze calmly, not flinching. He had faced down far more intimidating figures. "Tomorrow? Where?"

"Instructor's office," Garron replied. "Evening, after the grounds clear. I believe you'll want to hear what I have to say." Garron's lips curved into a thin, tight smile.

Arios gave the smallest nod, a silent acceptance of the challenge. "Very well."

Garron's eyes lingered another moment before he turned and walked away, his stride deliberate and stiff. Arios watched him go, not missing the stiffness in his shoulders, the coiled tension in his back. Garron was afraid, and that knowledge was a weapon.

Lucy and Liza had been nearby during the exchange. As soon as Garron was gone, Lucy rushed over, her face full of worry, her eyes wide with fear. "Why did he call you like that? That feels wrong." She wrung her hands, a nervous habit that always surfaced when she was distressed.

"It's obviously a trap," Liza added bluntly, her arms crossed, her expression a mixture of anger and concern. "You're not actually thinking of going, are you?"

"I am," Arios said simply, the two words a calm defiance.

Both girls stared at him. Lucy's eyes widened. "You can't! What if he tries something?" Her voice was a hushed plea.

"That's exactly why I need to go," Arios replied. "If I avoid it, he'll know I'm suspicious. He'll know that his little charade has failed, and he'll have to resort to something else. Something more dangerous, more unpredictable. If I go, I can confirm what he's planning. I can see his hand, understand his strategy. Besides…" He looked between them, his eyes reassuring. "I won't let myself walk into anything unprepared. I've faced traps before. I know what to look for."

Liza folded her arms, glaring. "You're too calm about this. It's irritating. Don't you feel any fear at all?"

Lucy tugged his sleeve anxiously. "At least promise you won't go alone?"

"I have to go alone," Arios said, his voice gentle but firm. "That's the point of the invitation. It's a test of my trust, or rather, my lack thereof. But I'll tell you both everything after. And if something happens, you'll know where to find me. You will be my eyes and ears, my backup."

Lucy frowned, biting her lip, clearly unhappy but unable to argue further. She knew that when Arios made up his mind, there was little anyone could do to sway him. Liza huffed and kicked at the ground. "Fine. But if he does anything funny, I'll break his legs myself. I'm not kidding."

The evening stretched on quietly, the three of them retreating back to the dorm. They ate dinner together in the cafeteria—Lucy picking out vegetables she didn't like from her plate and sneaking them onto Arios's tray, Liza mocking her for being childish, Arios eating without complaint. Their bickering helped lighten the mood, a small pocket of normalcy in a sea of rising tension, but every so often, Lucy would glance at Arios with that same worried expression, as though she couldn't shake the thought of tomorrow's meeting. The meal was a quiet affair, a truce of sorts, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Later, when night settled and the dorms grew quiet, Arios lay awake in bed. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts circling like restless birds. He knew Garron's invitation was not about performance. It was about control, about intimidation, about testing how much he really knew. Chase's hand was clearly behind it, a puppeteer pulling the strings of a reluctant puppet, but that only made it more dangerous. Chase was a master of manipulation, and this was clearly a move designed to gain the upper hand.

Still, Arios had no intention of backing down. He had come too far, discovered too much, to turn back now. He closed his eyes finally, letting sleep take him, but his resolve was already set. He was going to face this, head on, no matter the outcome.

The following day moved slowly. Classes dragged, and Arios found himself paying only half attention to the lectures. His focus remained on the evening, a distant, impending storm. Lucy sat beside him in class, trying to take notes diligently, though she kept sneaking glances at him, her pencil tapping nervously against her notebook. She was a constant source of worry, a small, but persistent anchor to the world of reason. Liza, behind them, leaned back in her chair most of the time, spinning her pen between her fingers and yawning dramatically, a mask of boredom hiding a deeper anxiety.

At lunch, Lucy tried to bring it up again. "Maybe you should at least delay it," she whispered, leaning close. "Say you're busy. Buy us more time to think. We could look for more information in the archives."

Arios shook his head. "If I delay, he'll know I'm wary. He'll know I'm on to him. I need him to think I'm walking in willingly, that I'm naive enough to fall for his trap. That's when he'll make his mistakes. That's when I'll have the advantage."

Lucy pouted but didn't argue further, though her silence carried her unease more than words could. The air between them was thick with unsaid worries.

By the time the final bell rang and students filtered out of the grounds, Arios felt the weight of the evening pressing down. He left Lucy and Liza near the dorm with a firm instruction. "Stay here. If I'm not back within an hour, come to the office. Don't call for help, just come."

Lucy's face tightened, but she nodded reluctantly. Liza slapped his shoulder hard. "Don't do anything stupid."

Arios gave the faintest smirk. "That depends on your definition of stupid."

Then he turned and walked toward the instructor wing. The corridors were quiet at this hour, most students having already gone to dinner or their dorms. His footsteps echoed lightly against the stone floors, a lone symphony in the deserted building. Each step brought him closer to Garron's office, closer to whatever confrontation awaited. He was ready for a fight, a war of words, a battle of wills.

He stopped outside the door, listening. Silence. Slowly, he raised his hand and knocked once. It was a firm, confident knock, a statement of intent.

"Enter," came Garron's voice from inside, a smooth, controlled tone that gave nothing away.

Arios opened the door and stepped in, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing like a finality.

The office was dimly lit, with a single lamp burning on the desk. Garron sat behind it, papers stacked neatly to the side, his hands folded together. His gaze lifted and fixed on Arios with an intensity that betrayed his forced calm. He was a statue of forced serenity.

"Arios," Garron said smoothly. "Thank you for coming."

Arios shut the door behind him, his expression unreadable. "You asked for me. What is it you want to discuss?"

And so, the trap began to close.

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