The next morning, Marek received a letter.
It wasn't delivered through the standard channels, no messenger wisp, no glowing rune-pulse at his dorm's door. Just a folded note, wedged beneath the edge of his desk. Unmarked. Scented faintly of old dust and lavender.
He almost threw it out.
Until he read the contents.
"If you want answers, follow the lanterns beneath the East Wing. Bring no one. Midnight. —A.V."
He stared at the signature for a long time.
Aurellia Vex.
Midnight came fast.
The academy was quiet after curfew, just the occasional flicker of warden spells floating through the halls, inspecting for wandering students. Marek kept to the shadows, cloaking his steps in what he could only describe as the Grid's blind spot. Wherever he moved, the lattice of surveillance spells dimmed slightly, as if refusing to register his presence.
Useful.
And terrifying.
The East Wing was older than the rest of the academy, less modernized, and filled with crumbling study halls and abandoned training chambers. Near its lowest level, lanterns flickered in a line, soft, bluish flame, clearly enchanted.
He followed them.
Down a spiraling stairwell. Past a sealed hallway with weathered stone plaques.
And finally, into a hidden chamber carved into the mountain beneath the school.
The Archives Beneath the Lattice weren't part of the student map.
They weren't part of any map.
Rows of iron bookcases stretched out into shadow, lit only by dim mana orbs suspended midair. Scrolls. Codices. Ancient glyph tablets locked behind enchanted glass. The air was cold, heavy with the scent of parchment and secrets.
Aurellia stood at the far end, facing a massive arched shelf carved with House Solarin's crest.
She didn't turn.
"I wasn't sure you'd come."
"I wasn't sure either," Marek replied.
He stepped closer, careful not to brush against anything. The magic in the room was old, still humming beneath the surface, like a sleeping creature that didn't like being disturbed.
Aurellia looked over her shoulder. "No one else can access this place. It's warded to Grid-registered bloodlines. Technically, I'm breaking six academy codes by being here."
"You don't strike me as someone who breaks rules."
"I don't," she said. "Unless the rules hide corpses."
Marek stiffened.
She turned fully now, moonlight-blue eyes sharp behind her usual calm. "My brother was a student here. A few years above us. He was marked as a Null."
Marek's pulse ticked up.
"He didn't manifest anything violent. Just… odd signatures. Incomplete sigils. The Grid flagged him as defective. Unrankable."
"What happened to him? "
She stepped past him toward one of the sealed display panels. Her fingers hovered over the lock, a complex mana-sequence that shimmered with her touch.
"They said he left," she said quietly. "Voluntarily. But I never believed it."
The lock clicked.
Inside, a faded page glowed with layered sigils and broken language, notations scribbled in a blend of Common Tongue and something older, rougher.
Marek leaned in.
He froze.
One of the symbols was the same glyph he had manifested during his duel.
"It's real," Aurellia said, voice low. "He used to draw it in the margins of his notes. Said it came to him in dreams."
Marek felt the edges of his memory flicker. The way his glyph had surfaced, not summoned, not cast. Remembered.
"What is it? " he whispered.
"I don't know," she said. "But the Grid never recognized it. Couldn't parse it."
"Anti-Grid," Marek muttered.
Aurellia looked at him. "You've heard that term? "
"Council whisperings. They think it's a mutation. A threat to the entire ranking lattice."
"They're not wrong."
Marek glanced at her.
She met his gaze, steady and unwavering. "The Grid isn't just a system. It's a lock. One that organizes magic. Controllably. Safely. Predictably. If there's something that exists outside it…"
"It breaks everything."
"Exactly."
Silence stretched between them.
Aurellia stepped back, folding her arms. "I want to find out what happened to my brother. But I can't do it alone. I don't trust the Council. And I don't trust most students."
Marek stared at the glyph again. Jagged, uncentered. A scar on the page.
"I don't know what I am," he said. "Or how I even used this."
"That's why I brought you here," she replied. "Because I think… whatever you are, my brother was too."
She hesitated. "And because I think you're not the only one."
They moved deeper into the archives.
Aurellia showed him a sealed corridor, long buried under stone. The sigils etched into the wall were older than the academy, written in a script Marek couldn't read but that felt familiar.
Behind a cracked panel, they found another record, an account from over 200 years ago. A failed student who exploded mid-duel, taking half a wing of the academy with him.
The report listed the cause:
"Non-systemic glyph manifestation. Nullfire Event."
Marek stepped back, blood draining from his face.
"It's happening again," he said.
Aurellia didn't argue.
Before they parted, she placed something in his hand.
A silver token, etched with her House crest and a fragment of the strange glyph.
"I can't be seen helping you," she said. "But if you need me, really need me, use that. It'll find me."
Marek looked down at the token. Then at her.
"Why are you risking this? " he asked.
She paused.
"When I saw you in that duel," she said softly, "you looked like him. Just… standing in the middle of everything they said you couldn't be."
Marek opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
She stepped back, already turning.
"Don't die," she said. "I need someone who remembers how to break things."
And then she was gone.