Whispers of Worlds Beyond: A Series - Chapter 58

Chapter 58: Detention…

Again Chapter 58: Detention…

Again Adrian sat slouched in his chair, arms crossed, his leather jacket thrown over his lap as he drummed his fingers against the wooden table.

Across from him, Shiloh sat just as tense, his fingers idly shuffling a deck of his cards, lips pressed into a thin line.

Professor Ylang-Ylang stood before them, barely reaching the height of the table, but her golden eyes gleamed with enough authority to silence even Adrian’s usual quips.

The three Divatas fluttered around her, their wings humming softly as they perched on her shoulders, occasionally casting judgmental glances at the two boys.

“I am very disappointed,” Ylang-Ylang said, her voice soft, but carrying an unmistakable weight.

“A fight?

In the Great Hall?

And in front of all the students, no less?” Adrian sighed dramatically.

“To be fair, Professor, I did warn him.” Shiloh scoffed, flicking a card between his fingers.

“Oh, so it’s my fault you can’t control your temper?” “You threw a card at me.” “After you punched me.” “And you deserved it.” Ylang-Ylang cleared her throat, and both boys shut up instantly.

“I do not care who started it,” she said, exasperated.

“You both continued it.

And as such, you will serve detention under my supervision.” Adrian and Shiloh exchanged looks.

Of all the professors, they had expected detention with Flinders or perhaps even Sir Bernard.

But Ylang-Ylang?

The tiny, fairy-like professor of Mystical Botany?

“You will spend the next three hours next week Tuesday morning replanting the lunar lilies in my greenhouse,” Ylang-Ylang continued, ignoring their reactions.

“And if any of them die, I will have you both write a one parchment essay on their life cycles.” Adrian groaned.

“Three hours of gardening?” Shiloh looked equally unimpressed.

“Isn’t there a more reasonable punishment?” Ylang-Ylang merely smiled, too sweetly.

“Would you rather be turned into plants yourselves?” Both boys quickly shut up.

“Good.

Then get to work.” With a flick of her hand, the vines in the room curled toward the door, pulling it open.

As the door to Professor Ylang-Ylang’s office creaked open, Aiden and Sevan looked up from where they were waiting outside.

Adrian and Shiloh finally emerged, their expressions unreadable-though Adrian’s smirk hinted at nothing good.

The moment Shiloh spotted Aiden, his gaze darkened.

He turned to the group, speaking loudly enough for everyone in the corridor to hear.

“Aiden Chase.” His emphasis on the surname was sharp and deliberate.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it.

What’s a Chase doing here in Genvah when his whole bloodline hunted down Magi?” The air grew tense, but Aiden didn’t respond.

He merely walked past them, Adrian and Sevan following suit.

They had more important things to deal with.

Their next class was Divination, and as they stepped inside the candlelit room filled with veils of incense and low-burning lanterns, the tension from the hall still lingered in Aiden’s chest.

The lesson passed in a blur- Mopsus droning on about foresight while most students failed to see anything in their crystal glasses.

Aiden barely paid attention, mind still clouded from the earlier encounter.

After Divination, the real punishment began.

They walked towards Professor Flinders’ office, where their detention awaited.

The air in the corridors felt heavier now, whether from exhaustion or unease, Aiden wasn’t sure.

As soon as they arrived, Sevan stepped forward.

“Professor, Aiden just had a duel yesterday.

Is it alright if he sits this one out?” Flinders, hunched over his desk, glanced up at Aiden.

His gaze swept over him once, then he scoffed.

“He looks fine.” Sevan’s frown deepened.

“He almost died.” Flinders leaned back in his chair, an unimpressed smirk forming on his face.

“Then he should consider himself lucky to still be breathing.” He turned his gaze fully onto Aiden.

“Besides, I doubt he’s ever worked a day in his life.

You Chases are born with silver spoons in your mouths.

Let’s see if you actually know how to do something without servants wiping your boots.” Aiden clenched his jaw but remained silent.

There was no point arguing with someone like Flinders.

“Enough stalling,” Flinders said, rising to his feet.

“Follow me.” With an exasperated sigh, Adrian shot Sevan a look before the three of them followed Flinders down a long hallway.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a set of large, heavy wooden doors.

“The trophy room,” Flinders announced.

“Hasn’t been cleaned in months.

I expect it to shine by the time you leave.” Without another word, he walked off, leaving them alone in front of the doors.

Adrian let out a low whistle.

“Great.” Sevan side-eyed Aiden.

“You holding up?” Aiden took a breath, then pushed the door open.

A thick cloud of dust greeted them, the scent of old wood and rusted metal heavy in the air.

Shelves upon shelves of trophies, medals, and plaques lined the walls, their once-bright surfaces dulled with time.

Adrian groaned.

“Well, no point standing around.” They grabbed the cleaning supplies left in the corner and got to work.

It was going to be a long night.

It wasn’t long before Adrian found himself utterly bored.

Scrubbing down dusty trophies was hardly the way he wanted to spend his afternoon, and it showed in how sluggishly he moved.

Eventually, rather than actually cleaning, he leaned against one of the cabinets and started inspecting the names engraved on the trophies instead.

“The Grand Tournament of Spells, 1789- Milo Graves.” Adrian snorted.

“Sounds like a posh name.” Sevan, who was actually cleaning, huffed.

“If you’re not going to help, at least don’t distract me.” Adrian ignored him and continued scanning the trophies.

“Champion of the Annual Celestial Theory Exam, 1802-Quintus Flipper.” He raised a brow.

“I swear half the people here have ridiculous names.” Sevan didn’t even look up.

“Because you have such a normal one.” Aiden, who had been quietly polishing a heavy-looking shield, finally spoke.

“Find anything interesting?” Adrian grinned, tapping the next trophy he found.

“Dueling Champion, 1847-Augustus Lionheart.” Adrian turned back to the shelves.

“Makes you think, though.” He dusted off another trophy, squinting at the name.

“How many of these guys are actually remembered?

They won, sure, but does anyone actually care?” Sevan shot him a tired look.

“That’s literally the point of a trophy, Adrian.” “Yeah, but look at all this dust.” Adrian gestured dramatically.

“No one’s even touched these in ages.

They’re just names on metal.” Aiden said nothing, simply continuing to work, though something in his expression had tightened.

Sevan sighed.

“Can we just clean instead of having an existential crisis over old trophies?” “Fine, fine,” Adrian said, dramatically picking up a rag again.

But as he glanced at Aiden, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was on his mind.

Aiden had been scrubbing quietly, focused on the repetitive motion of polishing the tarnished trophies, when something unusual caught his eye.

Tucked away in a random spot beside a small shelf full of cleaning supplies was a peculiar trophy.

Unlike the neatly arranged awards surrounding it, this one looked ancient, almost forgotten.

The metal was dark and worn, and instead of the usual cup or plaque, it had a set of intricately detailed deer antlers mounted on its base.

Something about it felt… off.

Frowning, Aiden reached for it, intending to pull it out for a closer look, but the moment he tried lifting it, he realized it wouldn’t budge.

It was as if it had been bolted to the floor.

“That’s weird,” he muttered, giving it another firm tug.

Adrian, who had been amusing himself by barely dusting the nameplates, glanced over.

“What’s weird?” “This trophy,” Aiden said, straining against it.

“It won’t move.” Sevan wandered over to Aiden.

“Maybe it’s just stuck?” “No, it’s too stuck,” Aiden insisted, gripping it more firmly.

Frustrated, he adjusted his grip, placing both hands on the antlers in an attempt to shift it.

His fingers curled around the cool metal, and instinctively, he pushed down.

The moment he did, a deep click echoed through the trophy room.

All three of them froze.

Then, with a low, mechanical groan, the floor beneath the trophy began to tremble.

A hidden panel at the base of the shelf slid aside, revealing a dark passageway leading downward.

A rush of cool air spilled out, carrying with it the scent of earth and something else…

something old.

Aiden pulled his hands away from the antlers, staring.

“That’s… not normal.” Adrian let out a low whistle.

“Well, well.

Looks like we just found a secret tunnel.” Sevan exhaled sharply.

“I knew detention was going to be a problem.”