Chapter 58 Fifty-seven

Chapter 58 Fifty-seven
CHAPTER 57 

THE SMILE THAT LIED

Ben had always been easy to like.
The kind of boy who laughed before anyone else did, whose warmth seemed effortless, whose words wrapped around people like light.

This morning, that same light fell on the academy courtyard, soft, forgiving. The air smelled faintly of rain and ink, the world pretending to be normal again.

Ben sat on the fountain’s edge, tossing crumbs to the white birds circling above. His uniform was half-buttoned, his sleeves rolled, his smile lazy. If anyone glanced his way, they’d see nothing but ease,a boy untouched by storms.

And that was exactly how he wanted it.

He’d seen Iria earlier, just for a moment. Her laughter had drifted across the courtyard like the ghost of something sacred. She’d waved, and his hand had lifted automatically,but the movement felt heavier than it should have.

Because beneath the ease, beneath the rhythm of the day, something inside him had shifted.

He couldn’t name it, not yet.
He only knew it had begun the night of the Blood Moon.

The dreams were the first clue.

At first, he’d thought them harmless, wandering through endless corridors of light, always chasing a shadow just beyond reach. But then the light had begun to bleed red, and the shadow started whispering back.

It called him useful.
It called him faithful.
It told him that she, Iria, would never look at him the way she looked at the others unless he earned it.

And now, in the quiet after, he still felt that whisper beneath his skin.

“Hey.”

Iria’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. She stood before him, sunlight on her hair, holding two books against her chest. For a moment, it was easy to forget everything else.

“Morning,” he said, smiling. “You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She glanced toward the fountain. “You always feed them?”

“They like to pretend I’m their hero,” he said with a chuckle. “Everyone needs an audience.”

She laughed softly, sitting beside him. For a while, they watched the water sparkle. There was comfort in the stillness between them, an illusion of normalcy neither dared break.

But Ben’s hand twitched against his knee.
He wanted to tell her about the dreams. About the strange pulse under his skin whenever the moon rose. About how, last night, he’d woken with his hand glowing faintly red.

Instead, he said, “You look tired.”

“So do you.”

“Guess we’re all tired,” he murmured. “This place eats sleep.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “At least it hasn’t eaten you yet.”

He laughed, but his chest tightened. Hasn’t it?

Later, in the training hall, he sparred with two other students. His movements were smooth, too smooth. Each strike landed with uncanny precision, almost as if his body moved before his thoughts.

The instructor praised him.
His classmates clapped him on the back.
Ben only smiled.

But his pulse told another story.
Each time he struck, he felt something echo in the air, a small surge of force that didn’t belong to him.

The Blood Moon’s hum.
He felt it in his veins now, like a secret heartbeat.

When he caught his reflection on the polished floor, his eyes flashed crimson for a split second.

He blinked, and it was gone.

That evening, as the sun dipped low, Clara found him. She looked pale, drawn, like someone walking through a nightmare and pretending it was daylight.

“Ben,” she said softly. “You’ve been avoiding everyone.”

He shrugged. “Everyone’s avoiding everyone.”

Her eyes searched his face, sharp with curiosity. “Do you feel it too?”

“What?”

“The pull. The… hum.”

He froze. “You mean the Blood Moon thing?”

She nodded, lowering her voice. “It’s spreading. I can feel it even when I’m awake now. You should stay close to Iria. Protect her if you can.”

He wanted to ask why her, but something in Clara’s tone, desperate, brittle, stopped him.

Instead, he said, “Protect her from what?”

“From what’s coming.”

Then she was gone, leaving the faint scent of smoke behind her.

That night, Ben sat alone on the balcony outside his dorm. The moon wasn’t red anymore, but he still felt its ghost pressing against his ribs. He thought of Iria’s soft voice, her wary eyes, the way she smiled at him like she still believed the world could be kind.

He wanted to be worthy of that.

But when he closed his eyes, the whisper returned, silk and venom all at once.

> She will never see you unless you stand above them.
Grey will burn her. Brian will bind her.
You could save her, Ben. You could be the one.

He gripped the railing until his knuckles went white.

“Stop it,” he hissed.

But the whisper laughed.

> You’ve already started, haven’t you? The power responds to you now. You only have to stop pretending it doesn’t.

The door creaked behind him. Iria stepped into the light, robe loose around her shoulders, eyes tired but warm.

“I thought you’d be asleep.”

“I could say the same,” he said softly.

“I couldn’t stop thinking,” she admitted. “Everything feels… wrong lately.”

He smiled, his smile was gentle and practiced. “Then think about something right.”

“Like what?”

He hesitated, then brushed his thumb against her sleeve, a small, almost reverent touch. “Like this,” he whispered.

She stared at him, startled, not by the gesture itself, but by the flicker that crossed his eyes for a heartbeat: something fierce, possessive, almost pleading.

He stepped back quickly, covering it with a grin. “Sorry. Just… trying to help.”

She smiled faintly. “You always do.”

Then she was gone.

And Ben’s smile lingered long after she disappeared,soft, steady, and entirely false.

When the door closed, his hand trembled. He looked down and saw faint red light curling around his fingers.

The whisper sighed in approval.

> That’s it.
The heart opens where desire meets doubt.

Ben’s easy smile returned, calm and beautiful, the perfect mask.

But deep within, loyalty was no longer pure.
It was bending, reshaping itself around something darker.

By the time dawn came again, no one would notice the change.

Except the moon.
And maybe, if she looked closely enough, Iria.