***NEW VERSION***

You don't know what you're getting into.

Seto wakes up the next morning in a cold sweat, panting. He's tired from flying, so of course he'd wake up late. He recognizes his room immediately, then sighs with relief. The open window besides him sends a cool breeze past his body, tumbling throughout his room. He tosses the sheets onto the floor and snaps his fingers. The bed makes itself.

Six days. He had six days to find Jason.

He's being closely monitored by the Headmaster, as well as his underlings. He's been instructed not to leave the castle without an escort and hell, he can't even roam around without permission. The Headmaster claims it was for good measures, but Seto can see right through his façade. Obviously he knows the brunet's up to something.

So, he strolls out of his room. There stood a servant, no older than he is, waiting to escort him to the dining room for breakfast. Honestly, that smile spread across his face is degrading in the sense that even a servant had more permission to wander around. "Ready for breakfast, Prince Harvey?"

How he despises being called Prince.

"Indeed," he nods monotonously.

"Here, let me escort you to—"

"There is no need," he interrupts, raising a hand to his face. "I'm fully capable of walking there myself."

The servant pales up as if he had just witnessed a ghost arising from the floor below their feet, "A-Are you sure? Your father had strict orders for you to be escorted—"

"Look, I honestly could regard whatever my father said to you as a bore. I do not need to be escorted. Do you hear me?" Seto snaps in an attempt to be as intimidating as possible.

"Y-Yes sir," the servant nods as he scurried away. The brunet shakes his head, chuckling to himself.

He heads down the stairwell and instead of going forwards into the dining hall, he pauses. He assumes that if the Headmaster were to hide something, surely it would be underground in a basement of some sorts. So, he heads left, down the winding hallway that held all the guest rooms. The lit candle stick flames danced around him and the haunting paintings of all his ancestors caused shivers to be sent down his spine.

Rarely anyone goes down this hallway, visitors are rarely anticipated. It's unkempt, clearly anyone can see that. Candle wax drips on the shaggy carpeting, cobwebs hang in the air, and dust travels to every speck of open space. The hallway seems endless in the sense of how long it was; surely it never was going to end. The deeper he went the less candles were lit. He couldn't risk using his Sorcery to lighten up the place; his father would sense it immediately. He takes the last lit candle stick from the wall and uses it as a torch to see. Obviously the Headmaster hadn't thought far enough to cast some sort of hex to prevent his curious son from investigating the secrets that lay down the hall.

The hallway, much to his disappointment, ends at, what he could assume to be, a locked door. It's clearly older than he is. The type of wood it was made with had been outdated a couple centuries back. Instead of heading back, he decides to take an attempt with opening the door. He grabs the doorknob, cold and dusty, then proceeds to turn it. To him, it's like a horror movie. The door churns open and the sound bounces off the walls and down the hall.

He takes a step inside and wheezes. The air is tainted with dust and he finds it quite hard to breathe. It's pitch black, with only the candle flame providing some light. From what he could make out, it looked to be an office. He strolls forward, trying not to bump into anything, then sets down the candle flame on the desk.

He decides to risk lighting up the room, so he snaps his fingers. The candle flame spreads out, embers dancing carefully in the air and levitating. Anticipating an office, he's surprised to see an array of empty bookshelves standing tall near the walls, as well as a painting of a man he could not recognize. Of course, the room was empty.

He strolls around the desk and gazes at the drawers. There are four, two on each side, and reminds him of Rosenthal's desk back in her own office. He opens all of them. Two of the four are found empty, but in both of the top drawers he finds an envelope, as well as a key. He takes both items in his hands then shuts the drawers.

He snaps his fingers, once more causing the flames to dissipate into a singular entity onto the candle stick. He exits the room, making sure to quietly shut the door behind him. He tosses the stick upwards, causing it to float above his head. He's walking down the hall, focused on the envelope and key in his hand.

The envelope is addressed to no one in particular. There's a red wax sealing on the back, a rose print in particular. From what he could recall, there was no rose ranking in the system. He's skeptical of the envelope's reliability, but it looked to be the age of that door; centuries old. He cautiously tears it open and gazes into its contents. It's a letter. He unsheathes the paper and begins to read it. The date has no year, just the date of September 27.

To whom it may concern,

Prophecy denounces the peace and replaces it with war. You, the boy with brunet hair and heart made of gold, are searching for answers that do not regard you. I fathom the unspeakable reality to hand you this news, despite the sins you have committed. For as in your hands is a key, an item that, no matter how much I attempt to hide it, will find its way to you.

Return the key to its owner, the one in disguise who commands the winds, then your sins will be repealed. The doors to opportunity will unsheathe and the cure to your general goals will be revealed. Leave the Sorcerer territory immediately, for as predictions do fork.

May your feet serve you well,

- X

Who is X?

Regardless, he doesn't take the warning lightly and proceeds to bolt out of the hallway. The candle stick slams onto the ground behind him, leaving a puddle of wax stained onto the carpet. He heads upstairs back into his room and slams the door behind him.

Seto scrambles to gather his items. He changes into his infamous purple cloak and grabs his bag. There, he places the letter and key, along with his spell book. Closing it and swinging his bag over his right shoulder, he opens the window and hops downwards four stories. He lands like a feather, not leaving a crater.

He rushes out of the Royal Garden and towards the front gates. There stood two guards, swords in hand, glaring him down. He jumps over the black gates that scaled over six feet and lands on his right ankle. He hisses in pain, but shoves it aside. He can hear screaming from behind him, but he refuses to take a gander over his shoulder.

Seto rushes through the streets towards the cliffside. Surely no one could anticipate a Prince having the audacity to make the jump, but they didn't know him. Townspeople frantically move aside as they witness the cloaked Prince hobbling through the streets, followed by multiple guards. The pain is unbearable, he doesn't know if he'll be able to do it.

He reaches the cliffside and turns around, gazing innocent at the guards. He sees the Headmaster rushing towards the front, an angry look plastered onto his face. Surely, he might as well listen to what they had to say.

"It appears to be that you are cornered," the Headmaster smirks, raising his right hand. "You will have no choice but to come back with us."

"Oh?" Seto cocks his head, a twisted grin spread across his lips. He takes a step backwards, getting ever-so-closer towards the edge. "Wouldn't it be a shame if I had gotten soaked."

The guards usher towards him, but his father stops them. "You don't know what you're getting into." There he is: the man who has words laced with venom.

"You don't know what you're getting into," Seto corrects, wiping his own frown off his face.

"Harvey," the Headmaster spat, sternly.

"No," he interrupts. "It's Seto."

He takes one more step backwards and tumbles off the cliff. The guards rush towards the ledge, surprised to witness he had disappeared without a trace. No loud splash, no Seto. The Headmaster curses, clenching his fist.

"That boy and his dramatic exits!" He shouts, kicking a rock off the ledge.

***

"Brice," Zek frowns, rushing to his friend's side, "I'm here. Why'd you call me? I'm tired."

"I'm worried," he confesses, gazing out at the stars above. "What if something bad happens to Seto?"

Zek shakes his head, "He's like the main protagonist, of course nothing bad is going to happen to him."

Brice glares, scoffing, "I'm being serious."

"And I'm gay."

"Really?"

"No, Brice, that was sarcasm. Now why did you call me here."

He shakes his head, "I found another one of those Scriptures. It was just on my doorstep, laying there. When I looked back at the security footage, it just—appeared."

"And you're telling me this because...?"

"We need to read it together."

Zek, reluctantly, rolls his eyes and nods. Brice stays solemn as he stands up from the porch and heads back indoors. There, on the dining room table, laid the second Scripture they've received.

"This one is obviously more recent than the last one we've received," Zek comments as Brice unrolls the parchment. "The ink is even fresh."

"It's shorter, too," Brice mutters. "Whoever this X guy is, he must have impatience. Literally, it's sloppy."

"What are you, a handwriting teacher?" Brice rolls his eyes at the remark.

"Shut up and read it," the blond scolds the other. Zek snickers.

Dear Prince Brice Purton Solace,

Prophecy denounces the peace and replaces it with war. You, the boy with blond hair and the unwavering confidence of a shark, are close to discovering the truth you've been longing for. This will be the second to last Scripture you will be receiving.

In your illusive reality is a man of many secrets. There, you shall locate him within the Creation and return the stolen item that he had been longing to receive for generations. Wait for the one with the heart of gold to receive the key. Entrust those who betray, and ally with those who hold spite. Disregard what you called your true allies, for as there is a traitor amongst the clique.

May your feet serve you well,

- X

"Obviously this was written by another guy," Zek speaks up. "The wording is different from the first Scripture and the signatures are different, too."

"It's talking about a traitor," Brice frowns, ignoring Zek's theorizing. "Who do you think it is?"

Zek rolls his eyes, "I wouldn't trust that Scripture for a second. There's something fishy about it, y'know. It's recent and clearly written by another guy."

"You do have a point..." Brice exasperatedly sighs. "But still, we can't take these things as a grain of salt."

"Whatever, I'm heading home," Zek shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Tell me if anything else happens."

"Yeah," Brice shoos him away, focusing his attention back onto the parchment paper. Surely no one would fake this. He collectively sighs and rolls up the Scriptures, then heads towards his room. All that's left to do, he supposes, is to wait for the one with a "heart of gold." He plops down onto his bed, wishing for Seto to return.

~

Author's Note:

If you haven't heard the news, I'm continuing this book. Disregard School of Rebellion, it's rubbish. I'm going to go with my original plan and conclude this book when it reaches ~40 chapters, so stay tuned I suppose.