Aren barely slept.
The letter from Rowan remained on his desk throughout the night.
Even after reading it a dozen times, the words refused to lose their impact.
If you want answers about the erased name, meet me at the Old Observatory tomorrow night.
The message was impossible.
Or at least it should have been.
Very few people knew about the erased name.
Even fewer knew how deeply Aren had become involved in the mystery.
Professor Selene knew.
Mira knew.
Perhaps the mysterious librarian.
Beyond that?
Aren wasn’t sure.
Yet Rowan clearly possessed knowledge he shouldn’t have.
The question wasn’t whether Rowan knew something.
The question was how much.
And that question followed Aren throughout the entire day.
The new semester settled into its rhythm quickly.
Students hurried between classes.
Assignments began piling up.
Academy life resumed as though nothing unusual had happened.
For most students, that was true.
For Aren, every ordinary moment felt increasingly fragile.
Because hidden beneath the routine, something larger was moving.
Something connected to Rowan.
Something connected to the erased name.
Something connected to the secrets beneath Astryx Academy.
The realization lingered in his thoughts as he entered Magical Theory.
Professor Selene stood at the front of the classroom.
Calm.
Professional.
Exactly as always.
Yet after discovering her secret investigations, Aren found it difficult to view her the same way.
She wasn’t merely a professor.
She was part of the mystery.
Perhaps one of the few people trying to stop it.
Or perhaps one of the few people trying to guide it.
Aren still wasn’t entirely sure.
Halfway through the lecture, Professor Selene made an announcement.
“Several classes this semester will feature guest instructors.”
A few students looked interested.
Most continued taking notes.
Guest instructors were common enough.
Then she added:
“The first guest instructor will be Rowan.”
The classroom immediately became more attentive.
Several students recognized the name from the Special Research Division.
Others looked curious.
Aren remained silent.
Very silent.
Professor Selene continued.
“Rowan specializes in historical anomalies and forgotten civilizations.”
That description alone caught everyone’s attention.
Forgotten civilizations.
The exact subject Aren had spent months investigating.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Aren couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing involving Rowan was accidental.
The guest lecture took place that afternoon.
Students filled the academy’s largest auditorium.
Even professors attended.
That alone suggested Rowan’s importance.
Most guest lecturers attracted students.
Not faculty members.
Yet nearly a dozen professors occupied seats near the front.
Including several senior instructors.
Professor Selene sat among them.
Watching.
Observing.
Waiting.
The atmosphere felt unusual.
Expectant.
As though everyone knew something Aren didn’t.
Then Rowan entered.
For a moment, silence filled the auditorium.
Not because Rowan looked particularly intimidating.
He didn’t.
In fact, he appeared surprisingly ordinary.
Tall.
Dark hair.
Simple academy robes.
No extravagant decorations.
No visible magical artifacts.
Nothing about him suggested extraordinary importance.
Yet the moment he entered the room, attention naturally shifted toward him.
Aren immediately understood why.
Presence.
Some people possessed a natural ability to command attention.
Rowan was one of them.
Not through force.
Not through charisma alone.
Through confidence.
The quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly who they were.
And exactly what they were doing.
Rowan stood at the center of the stage.
Then he smiled.
“Good afternoon.”
His voice wasn’t particularly loud.
Yet everyone heard it clearly.
The acoustics should not have allowed that.
Aren noticed immediately.
So did several professors.
Interesting.
Rowan continued.
“Today we’re discussing forgotten history.”
Several floating images appeared behind him.
Ancient ruins.
Collapsed cities.
Lost monuments.
The audience watched attentively.
“Most people assume history is permanent.”
The images shifted.
Rows of books appeared.
Then disappeared.
“Unfortunately, history is often fragile.”
Aren felt his pulse quicken.
The topic felt uncomfortably familiar.
Too familiar.
The lecture continued for nearly an hour.
At first, Rowan focused on ordinary academic subjects.
Lost civilizations.
Historical preservation.
Ancient magical cultures.
Everything seemed perfectly normal.
Then the tone changed.
Subtly.
Gradually.
Almost imperceptibly.
Rowan began discussing missing records.
Contradictory documents.
Historical gaps.
The same subjects connected to Aren’s investigation.
Aren noticed Professor Selene watching carefully.
Very carefully.
As though evaluating every word.
The other professors seemed equally attentive.
The situation felt less like a lecture and more like a test.
The question was who was being tested.
The audience.
The professors.
Or Aren.
Then Rowan asked a question.
A simple question.
Yet one that instantly captured Aren’s attention.
“What happens when history forgets someone?”
Silence filled the room.
Several students exchanged confused looks.
The question seemed philosophical.
Abstract.
Yet Rowan’s expression remained serious.
He genuinely wanted an answer.
Eventually one student raised a hand.
“They become unknown.”
“Correct.”
Another student spoke.
“Their achievements disappear.”
“Also correct.”
Rowan nodded thoughtfully.
Then his gaze drifted toward Aren.
Only briefly.
Yet the timing felt deliberate.
The instructor smiled slightly.
“And what if history forgets someone important?”
The room fell silent once more.
No one answered.
Except Aren.
Without thinking.
Without planning.
The words simply escaped.
“Then history becomes incomplete.”
Every eye in the auditorium turned toward him.
Aren immediately regretted speaking.
Again.
Rowan’s smile widened.
Not mockingly.
Not critically.
Approvingly.
“Excellent.”
The single word echoed through the hall.
Then Rowan continued.
“When history forgets something important, the world changes around the absence.”
Aren felt a chill.
Because that sounded exactly like what was happening.
The erased records.
The disappearing names.
The missing books.
Everything.
The lecture resumed.
Yet from that moment onward, Aren couldn’t shake the feeling that Rowan already knew far more than he revealed. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Much more.
After the lecture ended, students gradually left.
Groups formed throughout the hall.
Everyone discussed Rowan.
His knowledge.
His theories.
His unusual questions.
Aren remained seated.
Thinking.
Analyzing.
Trying to understand.
Mira eventually appeared beside him.
“What do you think?”
Aren considered the question.
“He’s hiding something.”
Mira nodded immediately.
“Definitely.”
At least they agreed on that.
The challenge was determining what.
And why.
That evening, Aren decided to investigate Rowan directly.
Nothing dramatic.
Just research.
The academy maintained records on instructors and researchers.
Surely Rowan would appear somewhere.
The search began in the library.
Several hours later, it produced an unexpected result.
Almost nothing.
Aren stared at the records.
Confused.
Then more confused.
Then suspicious.
Rowan’s file existed.
Technically.
Yet it contained remarkably little information.
No birthplace.
No educational history.
No previous positions.
Only a name.
A title.
And an authorization code granting access to nearly every restricted section of the academy.
That alone was alarming.
Mira arrived shortly afterward.
Aren showed her the file.
She frowned.
“That’s all?”
“Apparently.”
The incomplete record bothered both of them.
Because nobody received unrestricted access without explanation.
Especially not someone connected to historical mysteries.
Unless—
Aren suddenly remembered the old librarian.
The missing records.
The erased name.
The gaps in history.
A troubling possibility emerged.
“What if Rowan’s records were edited?”
Mira looked up immediately.
“You think someone removed information?”
Aren nodded slowly.
It would fit the pattern.
Perfectly.
And if true, it raised an even more disturbing possibility.
Rowan wasn’t merely studying the mystery.
He was part of it.
Night eventually fell.
The academy grounds grew quiet.
Most students returned to their dormitories.
Aren remained awake.
Thinking.
Planning.
Waiting.
Tomorrow night he would meet Rowan at the Old Observatory.
The meeting felt risky.
Possibly dangerous.
Definitely suspicious.
Yet he already knew he would go.
Because Rowan possessed answers.
Perhaps not all of them.
But some.
And after months of chasing fragments, clues, and half-forgotten records, even partial answers felt valuable.
Outside his window, the academy stood beneath the moonlight.
Ancient towers cast long shadows across the grounds.
Far in the distance, the silhouette of the Old Observatory rose against the night sky.
Waiting.
Silent.
Mysterious.
Just like Rowan.
And somehow, Aren knew the meeting would mark a turning point.
Because Rowan wasn’t simply another researcher.
He wasn’t simply another professor.
He was a missing piece of the puzzle.
A piece that had finally stepped onto the board.