She led him down a side corridor, the stone walls muffling the distant noise of the academy, and pushed open an unmarked wooden door. It swung inward on protesting hinges, revealing a space choked with the quiet smell of dust and disuse. An old storage room, forgotten and empty save for a few decaying crates stacked against the far wall. It was the perfect kind of place for a conversation no one was meant to overhear.
The door clicked shut behind them, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness.
And the switch flipped.
He didn’t register her moving. One moment she was by the door, the next she had him by the collar, his back slamming hard against the rough-hewn wood. The impact jarred a breath from his lungs. Before he could react, a palpable darkness bled from her, visible threads of pure shadow unspooling into the air. The mundane storage room dissolved. The stacked crates, the dusty floor, the single high window—it all melted away, replaced by an endless, dim expanse. It was a space without walls or a ceiling, a void that was wrong in a way that had nothing to do with light and everything to do with a complete absence of reality.
Cane’s mind caught up a half-second after his body. Underneath the jolt of adrenaline, a sharp, clean feeling of satisfaction cut through the surprise. He knew this. He had read about this.
Shadow Garden.
As if summoned by the thought, impossible flowers bloomed from the nothingness around them. They were constructs of pure darkness, their petals unfurling in absolute, unnerving silence.
Raven’s voice was flat, a controlled weapon. "Time moves ten times slower in here. Nobody is coming. We have all the time in the world to talk."
She said it like a threat and a fact, the words underpinned by the clear assumption that he was just another arrogant noble, that this display of impossible power was enough to break him. He let her think it. He let the silence hang, a willing participant in her little theatre of intimidation. He didn’t correct her. Not yet.
"How do you know about the Talons?" she pressed, her knuckles white where they twisted his collar. "Where did you hear it? Who else knows?"
This time, there were no games. No crude jokes, no deflections. He met her furious gaze and gave her the plain, unvarnished truth.
"I’m not from this world. I was reincarnated into this body. Where I come from, your entire life, this whole world, it was all just a story in a book I read."
It didn’t land. Her expression, which had been a mask of cold fury, sharpened into something hotter, more visceral. She thought he was mocking her, spitting on the gravity of her secrets with some absurd, unbelievable lie.
"You think this is a joke?" Her grip tightened, yanking him forward until their faces were inches apart. "I can make this hurt in ways you can’t even imagine. Start giving me real answers."
Cane didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He went for the one thing he knew she hated most, the label she’d come here to escape. He dragged the word out, slow and deliberate, watching it land like a physical blow.
"Terrorist."
"Don’t," she snapped, a sharp, reflexive denial.
He just pushed harder, his voice dropping but losing none of its edge. "That’s what you were, wasn’t it? A terrorist."
Whatever fragile control she held snapped. With a guttural snarl, she dropped his collar and her hand blurred, lunging for his throat with an undisguised intent to cause real, lasting harm.
He raised one finger.
A small, steady pinpoint of white light gathered at the tip. It didn’t flare or pulse; it just was, a tiny star of pure luminescence in her world of shadow.
Her lunge died half-finished. Her eyes, which had been narrowed with rage, blew wide. The hand that had been coming for his neck froze in mid-air.
Cane just nodded, his expression calm, as if he were merely confirming an obvious fact.
"I know its name. Shadow Garden. And I know its secret." He let the words settle in the unnatural quiet. "Its real weakness is light magic. Not just any light magic, but light turned directly on the host. And in here, in your own little world, light magic doesn’t have to bother with things like air resistance. It moves at its true speed, light speed. You can’t outrun it. You can’t even see it coming once it’s aimed. And once you take damage in this space, it will collapse on itself."
Raven recoiled. It wasn’t a physical retreat from the tiny bead of light, but a deeper, more profound flinch. The fact that he knew the name, that he knew the weakness, it cracked the anger clean open, revealing the raw fear underneath.
He kept going, his voice almost gentle now, laying out the truth as he understood it.
"It’s not even that dangerous, not on its own. What makes it work is you. Your nerve. Your bluff. Your ability to posture and make an average, niche skill feel like a death sentence. Its true weakness was never the light, Raven. It’s that it only works on people who don’t know what it is." He smirked. "But I do."
The venom went out of her voice, replaced by something low and unsteady, something close to genuine unease.
"What are you?"
He told her the truth again, calm and unhurried. "I told you. I’m a transmigrator. I’ve lived through a past you’ve already had, a present you’re in now, and a future you haven’t reached yet. This world, to me, was once just a novel."
She stared at him, the words clearly not computing.
It sounded like a madman’s boast, a cruel and elaborate mockery.
She probably thought he was making fun of her.
Her voice came out clipped, sharp with suspicion. "What do you want from me?"
"I told you that, too. Back in the woods." He repeated the line, his tone unchanging. "Nothing. This was never about leverage."