Rowan Edevane rarely dreamed.
When he did, it was usually just fragmented nonsense: floating cards, screaming doors, or giant frogs quoting poetry. But that night, he dreamed of Veilcroft again—of golden masks melting under rain, of voices chanting his name in languages long dead.
And of a mirror. Cracked. Whispering.
When he awoke, it wasn't morning yet.
The room was cold. His Joker System interface pulsed with red.
[JOKER SYSTEM – Passive Alert]
> "Observation detected. Intent: Hostile. Proximity: Immediate."
Rowan sat up.
Someone was watching him.
But when he looked around, no one was there.
He grinned.
"Cute."
He threw off his blanket and stepped into the shadows—without a single spell. Just instinct. He opened his door slowly, only to find the corridor empty.
Except for a card. Face down. On the floor.
He flipped it.
The Seer.
A warning.
Rowan stared down the hallway. Somewhere nearby, someone was trying to pierce the veil.
He would have to respond.
But first, he needed allies.
---
By midday, Rowan found Lilith in the Cursecrafter's Sanctum, halfway through melting a taxidermy squirrel into a curse to create phantom noise in enemy libraries.
"I need a curse," he said.
"You need sleep," she replied without looking up.
"I think the Absolute Gaze is on campus."
That made her pause.
"...You're sure?"
"I met a new student. Silver eyes. Looks like she reads souls before breakfast. She's watching me."
Lilith nodded slowly. "They sent a Seer."
"I need to mislead her. Not destroy her. Yet."
Lilith opened a drawer and handed him a strange object: a polished beetle shell painted with a question mark.
[Item Gained: Misbelief Scarab]
> Emits a low-level paradox field. Causes truth-detection spells to report contradictory results.
"Hide this in your cloak lining," Lilith instructed. "Let her think you're weaker than you are, but just off enough to stay in her nightmares."
"Perfect," Rowan grinned.
---
That evening, he returned to the Training Grounds—not to practice, but to test the field.
Selia was there, meditating alone on a raised platform.
Rowan approached casually.
"Evening, Seer."
"Edevane," she answered curtly.
"You know," he said, pacing slowly around her, "you stare like a hawk but speak like a mouse."
"I speak when necessary."
"Then speak this: What do you see when you look at me?"
She hesitated.
"Lies. Wrapped in faith. Wrapped in more lies."
Rowan smiled. "And yet you're still here. Why not unmake me already?"
She rose to her feet, her voice lower now.
"Because the Order taught me that to destroy an illusion, I must understand the mind that birthed it."
Rowan stepped close.
"Careful. Stare too long, and you might find yourself believing it."
A beat.
Selia turned. "I already hate that part of me."
Rowan didn't follow her as she left.
He just whispered into the wind: "Good. That means it's working."
---
Meanwhile, deep within the Gilded Mask's inner sanctum…
The High Speaker kneeled before a blazing black flame.
A voice spoke—not from the flame, but from the mirror beneath it.
"The Seer watches the Fool. The Prophet dreams false truths. The Academy suspects."
"Shall we move, my God?"
"No," the mirror whispered. "Let them dance. The contradiction must spread."
"Shall we prepare the stage?"
"Yes."
"Then what do we call this play, Lord?"
The mirror showed only a smiling face.
And a whisper.
"Comedy of Ascension."
END OF CHAPTER 10