The detention room reeked of dust, silence, and punishment—the kind that didn't just trap you, but watched your every breath. Shadows pooled in the corners, flickering as a lone candle battled the gloom. Harper sat with her arms crossed, chin tilted, refusing to be cowed by the cold air or the judging silence of Professor Thorn.
Across from her, Asher fidgeted. His usual charm was absent, replaced by a taut stillness. Mira lounged with exaggerated ease, her wand twirling between her fingers like a blade waiting to strike. Beside her, Astra looked as smug as ever, already bored of the whole affair.
Professor Thorn's gaze was a hammer. "Explain yourselves."
Harper's voice cut through the silence. "They provoked us. Mocked the new students. Asher stood up for them. I backed him."
"She tried to hex me," Mira interrupted coolly, gesturing lazily at Harper. "Twice."
Harper didn't blink. "Only after you aimed at a first-year. That wasn't self-defense. That was sport."
The room tightened with tension. Thorn's silence was louder than shouting. He studied them all—four very different students bound by a single explosive event.
After a long pause, he finally said, "You'll serve detention in the Arcane Library. Tonight. Midnight."
Asher's head snapped up. "The Arcane Library? That's—"
"Off-limits," Thorn said. "Precisely why you're going. Supervised, of course. Think of it as... penance with purpose."
Midnight came wrapped in wind and whispers.
The Arcane Library loomed like a cathedral of secrets, ancient and humming with power. The door creaked open under Thorn's spell, revealing aisles of floating books, glowing runes, and staircases that twisted upward into darkness.
"This place is insane," Asher muttered, staring at a book that rearranged its title as he read.
"Focus," Harper whispered. "We're not tourists."
But the moment they stepped past the threshold, something shifted.
A flicker. A pulse.
Then silence.
Harper felt it—a buzz in her bones, like the air itself had teeth. She turned sharply, only to find Thorn already gone. The door behind them vanished.
"What the—" Asher started.
"They sealed us in," Mira said, more curious than alarmed.
"No," Harper breathed. "Someone doesn't want us to leave."
They moved deeper. The library responded—lights dimmed, whispers rose. In the heart of it all, they found a pedestal carved with crescent moons. On it lay a stone—black as void, etched with veins of silver.
"The Eclipse Stone," Harper whispered. She didn't know how she knew. She just did.
Astra stepped back. "That's a myth."
Harper shook her head. "It steals light... swallows magic. Even time. This isn't a myth. This is a message."
Asher's eyes narrowed. "From who?"
Harper met his gaze. "Whoever wrote the prophecy."
A pause. Then the candlelight flickered wildly, casting dancing shadows across the shelves.
Something moved in the dark.
Not books. Not spells.
Something watching.
Harper turned slowly, heart pounding. The hairs on her arms stood on end. "This isn't detention," she said, voice low. "This is a test."
"No," Mira murmured. "This is a trap."
The shadows deepened. The stone pulsed once.
And Harper knew—they were no longer researching the past.
They had just stepped into the future's battlefield.