The Legendary Method Actor

Noticing Ray’s gaze, two golden eyes opened within his shadow, blinking up at him. Since Gino was standing right next to them, Ray had to keep the void-malkin’s existence a strict secret. He couldn't let Nox manifest his physical, three-dimensional form.

Nox, I need your help, can you go into the room and be my eyes and ears.

Ray sent the mental command to Nox.

To Gino’s ordinary eyes, absolutely nothing happened.

But to the others, the shift was immediate. Svane’s high combat perception spiked, his eyes snapping downward as he tracked a sudden, unnatural disturbance in the ambient mana. Beside him, Rina let out a soft breath, feeling the familiar, eerie resonance humming in her chest as the void-malkin stirred within the darkness.

Then, a high-energy, sassy voice echoed directly into Ray's mind via their empathic bond.

Bout time, master! I was starting to think you forgot about me. It’s boring in the shadows. We spying on the rich kids?

Ray physically flinched, his eyes going wide as he stared at the floor.

Rina, standing just a step behind him, immediately noticed the sharp, uncharacteristic movement. She leaned in, her brow furrowing with quiet concern.

"Young master? Are you alright?"

She whispered.

Ray forced his expression back into a neutral, composed mask, acutely aware of Gino standing just a few feet away.

"I am fine. I just... bit my tongue."

Ray muttered softly, clearing his throat.

Rina gave a slow, uncertain nod, stepping back into position. Ray quickly directed his attention back downward. Until now, Nox had only ever communicated in raw, blunt emotional concepts, hunger, joy, safety, danger. This was actual, articulated dialogue.

You can talk?

Ray projected back, desperately masking his shock so Gino wouldn't notice.

Since when can you speak in complete sentences?

In the shadow, Nox’s golden eyes blinked.

Huh. Good question.

Nox replied, sounding genuinely surprised by his own voice.

Dunno. Feels like it's been a while! But I've been stuck with the nice shadow lady for days. I can't link into her head the way I can with yours, master. It's good to finally stretch the brain cords!

In the Ambient Presence of Ray’s mind. His internal committee instantly reacted to the new, loud voice echoing in their shared headspace.

Conman: "Ha! Oh, I like this fella. Fantastic raw energy."

Weaver: "A sentient Aetheric tether. Beautiful! I welcome this passionate evolution."

Naturalist: "Crikey, mate! The bloody shadow-cat talks like a back-alley tavern brawler! That ain't normal at all!"

Ray had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the ridiculous irony of the Primal Naturalist complaining about someone else having a weird accent. He quickly composed himself.

Ray crouched slightly, pretending to adjust his shoe so Gino wouldn't question his posture. He locked eyes with the flat, two-dimensional creature in his shadow, ignoring the sass.

Save the jokes for later, Nox, Get in there and scout.

Ray pushed a silent mental directive down their bond.

Got it, master!

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Nox replied mentally.

Remaining entirely in his two-dimensional shadow form, Nox detached from Ray's silhouette. It looked like a bizarre, vantablack blot of ink sliding stealthily and rapidly across the patterned carpet.

As the shadow reached the heavy mahogany doors, Ray initiated the Familiar Skill: ‘’Shared Senses.’

A strange, visual shift occurred. Ray kept his head sharply angled down toward his shoe, deliberately hiding his face from Gino, as his right eye suddenly shifted. The golden flecks expanded, flooding the sclera until his entire right eye mirrored the pure, pupil-less luminescence of the void-malkin.

Ray’s perception violently fractured in two. It was dizzying but only for a fraction of a second, not like the first time he used the skill, his mind adapted to the split feed right away. Through his left eye, he remained firmly in his own body, seeing the dim physical hallway, his hand resting on his shoe, and Gino shifting nervously a few feet away. But through his right, glowing eye, his vision plunged into a stark, high-contrast grayscale. His hearing split simultaneously, the muted silence of the corridor overlapping with the sudden, crystal-clear acoustics of the room on the other side of the wood.

In perfect sync with Ray's divided vision, the flat shadow-blot slid effortlessly underneath the narrow gap of the mahogany doors. Through the void-malkin’s grayscale eyes, Ray watched as the creature slithered up the interior wall and anchored itself to the ornate ceiling, looking down at the room below.

The room was plush and opulent, filled with the thick, aromatic haze of expensive cigar smoke. Four young men lounged in deep leather chairs around a low table cluttered with crystal glasses and a half-empty decanter of brandy.

Ray immediately recognized Dylan Starr. The young master of the house was holding court, looking relaxed but animated. The other three were clad in the distinctive, albeit varying, robes of 3rd-Circle Arcanum students.

Sitting on the far right, nursing a glass of water instead of brandy, was Bastian Sterling. He matched Travis’s description perfectly: heavy, bruised bags under his eyes, threadbare cuffs, and hands wrapped around his glass that were stained with ink and chemical burns.

"I'm telling you, it’s a nightmare…"

Dylan was saying, leaning back and swirling his brandy.

"Trying to keep up with the advanced theoretical coursework while practically living out of a carriage for this kingdom tour. I actually failed Advanced Evocation last semester. Barely made it up during the solstice break."

The noble to Dylan’s left laughed.

"Oh, please. You could sleep through the finals and they’d still pass you. Half the eastern wing of the Arcanum was funded by House Starr. They aren't going to fail their biggest benefactor."

"I don't want special treatment.”

Dylan dismissed quickly, waving a hand.

“I want to be able to graduate on merits. It just takes time. Speaking of which..."

Dylan turned his attention to the quietest man in the room.

"How is your year going, Senior Bastian? Is the thesis finally coming together?"

Through Nox's grayscale vision, Ray watched Bastian flinch slightly at the attention. The exhausted alchemist sighed heavily, running his calloused hands over his face.

"It's... progressing. I have been with the academy seven years now and it's my third year attempting to graduate.”

Bastian muttered, his voice raspy and thin. He looked down at his lap, a deep flush of embarrassment on his face.

“The pressure from my family is... immense. The practical application part of my final thesis has been a massive roadblock."

Bastian paused, his hands tightening around his glass. When he looked up, there was a sudden, desperate, almost manic spark in his tired eyes.

"But I am hopeful! I had a massive breakthrough recently. I have finally found the right ingredient and have completed one successful test. I just need more of it so I can do more testing for variance. Once that is complete, I can present it for review with the professors. I will definitely graduate this time!"

Bastian declared, his voice gaining confidence.

"You'll get it, senior Bastian! You're the most hard-working alchemist I know! Just don't overwork yourself before presentation day."

Dylan said warmly, raising his glass in a casual toast.

The other two nobles chuckled, offering genuine murmurs of encouragement. Bastian offered a weak, grateful smile, retreating back into his silence.

In the hallway, Ray blinked. He consciously severed the visual feed of the Shared Senses skill, but kept the auditory tether securely anchored to the void-malkin still hiding on the ceiling inside. The golden luminescence rapidly faded from his right eye, returning it to its normal hue. The stark grayscale of the parlor vanished, replaced entirely by the vibrant carpet and dim gas lamps of the hallway. However, the clinking of glasses and casual banter still echoed clearly in his right ear.

In the Ambient Presence of Ray’s mind, the internal committee exploded into action, rapidly dissecting the newly acquired intelligence.

Detective: "Did you hear his vocal cadence? The way he shrank under the attention? His stress is entirely academic and familial. He sounds exactly like an ordinary, exhausted student crushed by the weight of expectations. He does not have the psychological profile of a cold-blooded assassin."

Scholar: "Focus on the terminology. 'The right ingredient.' A successful test that now requires 'more of it' to measure variance. Warren's ledger mentioned a sudden influx of Moonpetal in both open and black markets of the academy. Could the main ingredient Bastian mention is also Moonpetal which he is utilizing for his final thesis?"

Conman: "And Moonpetal is incredibly rare. Look at the motive. He needs to graduate to save his family's waning honor. He is desperate, Ray. Desperate men sometimes do desperate actions. But we still do not have an answer on how he gained access to the wine cellar."

Ray stood in silence, staring at the heavy mahogany door. The committee was right. Bastian Sterling is still the prime suspect, but there are still some questions left unanswered.