Cid sat alone in his usual private study room within the library, the air thick with the scent of aged paper and ink—a fragrance that had become as familiar to him as the sound of his own breathing. The room was a sanctuary of quiet, its walls lined with towering bookshelves that seemed to stretch endlessly into the shadows. The room was illuminated by the large ornate window with a warm, golden glow over the desk, illuminating the scattered newspapers and the ancient tome known as the Book of Grand Design that lay open before him. Its pages, filled with cryptic symbols and eldritch mathematics, seemed to pulse faintly under the light, as if alive with secrets waiting to be uncovered.
He was deep in thought, his fingers tracing the lines of text as he meticulously sifted through the information surrounding the recent events that had sent ripples of concern through the university. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of his focus, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of paper or the soft scratch of his pen against parchment.
A little over a week and a half ago, the university had apprehended another individual linked to the troubling Undead student situation involving Sorin. The administration had been quick to publicize the arrest, eager to demonstrate their commitment to addressing the crisis. They needed tangible evidence that they were taking the matter seriously, that they were not merely passive observers in a growing storm. Cid understood the pressure they were under; the university’s very integrity was at stake. But he also knew that the truth was often more complicated than the narratives spun for public consumption.
The latest individual caught up in this web of intrigue had been identified as a Rattle Bone cultist—a sinister figure who had been hiding in plain sight within the Arcanium Archive. The Sleuth-Hawks, a specialized joint task force comprised of university security and local law enforcement, had uncovered the cultist’s involvement and swiftly intervened, thwarting the heinous crimes they had intended to commit. It was a victory, yes, but a hollow one. The details surrounding the cultist’s activities—details that Cid desperately wanted to understand—remained frustratingly sparse. The official reports were vague, the newspapers speculative, and the whispers among the faculty even more so.
As Cid flipped through the pages of the Book of Grand Design, he sought to fill in the gaps in his understanding. The tome was a repository of otherworldly knowledge, its pages filled with equations and diagrams that defied conventional logic. It was a dangerous text, one that could drive lesser minds to madness, but Cid could handle it. He meticulously cross-referenced the scant information from the newspapers with the alien texts, his pen darting across the page as he jotted down notes and sketched connections. The timeline, the people involved, the timing of the university’s actions—each piece of the puzzle seemed to hint at a larger, more grand picture that the book revealed.
His brow furrowed in concentration as he worked, the clock on the wall ticking steadily in the background, a metronome marking the passage of time. The more he delved into the Book of Grand Design, the more he began to see patterns—patterns that allowed him to see what had already transpired.
With a determined sigh, Cid leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a moment to reflect.
Cid: “It seems that the information I provided to Alan has significantly altered the course of events, at least from what I can gather,” Cid mused aloud, his voice a low murmur that barely disturbed the stillness of his study. The words hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of old parchment and ink.
Cid: “He was able to uncover that the head librarian at the Archive was a Rattle Bone cultist and managed to find and rescue his friend just in time, before anything terrible could happen to him. A fortunate outcome for them, to be sure.” He paused, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the desk as his gaze drifted to the open pages of the Book of Grand Design. “But now, it appears that some unknown force has, or had, taken notice of my interference.” A frown creased his brow, deepening the lines of worry etched into his face. “Hmm. I suppose Scarlett was right again; I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
A sense of unease settled over him, cold and unshakable, as he contemplated the implications of this newfound awareness. The thought that someone—or something—had detected his presence, even if only faintly, gnawed at him like a persistent itch. He had no idea what entity or force had sensed his intervention while he had used his power to assist Alan, but the Book of Grand Design had issued a stern warning: looking too closely at what had noticed him could fully expose him to it. The book’s cryptic message had been clear enough—some forces were better left unobserved, their attention better left unacknowledged. With that caution ringing in his ears, Cid resolved not to delve any deeper into the matter. At least, not yet.
Cid: “I guess that’s it, then,” he said, his voice firmer now, as if trying to convince himself. “No more helping or directly involving myself for the time being, at least until John tells me it’s safe.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, a mixture of frustration and resignation washing over him. The weight of his decision pressed down on him, heavy and unrelenting. “I thought this power was undetectable,” he muttered, more to himself than to the empty room. “But apparently, I was mistaken.”
The admission stung more than he cared to admit. Cid had believed that this ability he received from John could be wielded discreetly, a hidden hand guiding events from the shadows without leaving a trace. It was a belief that had allowed him to operate with a sense of invulnerability, a confidence that he could shape the world without being seen. But now, that confidence was shaken. The realization that his actions had drawn the attention of something far beyond his understanding forced him to reconsider his approach. He had to be cautious, to tread lightly in a world where unseen forces lurked, ready to pounce on any sign of interference.
Yet, even as unease coiled in his chest, Cid felt a flicker of determination ignite within him. He would not let fear dictate his actions. He would not retreat entirely. Instead, he would bide his time, gathering information and preparing for the moment when he could act without drawing unwanted attention.
With a deep breath, he turned his gaze back to the Book of Grand Design
, its pages filled with ancient wisdom and secrets waiting to be uncovered. The symbols and equations seemed to shimmer faintly under the ambient light, as if alive with the promise of answers.Cid: “For now,” he resolved, his voice steady despite the turmoil within, “I’ll focus on understanding the Book of Grand Design and prepare to assist Ms. Scarlett. Knowledge is power, and I will not be caught off guard again.”
The words felt like a vow, a promise to himself. He would not be reckless, but neither would he be idle. Cid leaned forward, his pen poised over a fresh sheet of paper, ready to delve deeper into the labyrinth of secrets that surrounded him. The clock on the wall continued its steady ticking, a reminder of time’s relentless march, but Cid paid it no mind. He had work to do, and he would not rest until he was ready to face whatever lay ahead.
Cid’s concentration was abruptly shattered by the sound of the door creaking open, the soft rustle of footsteps breaking the silence of his study. He looked up from his desk, his heart sinking as he saw two figures stepping into the room—Alan and Jafar, both clad in the distinctive purple uniforms of the Arcane Eye College. The sight of them sent a ripple of frustration through him, and he groaned internally. Just when he had resolved to keep his distance, to avoid entangling himself further in the chaos that seemed to follow them, they had arrived uninvited. It was as if they were lightning rods in the midst of a storm, drawing trouble toward him with an almost magnetic force.
Alan entered first, his demeanor calm and collected, though there was a subtle tension in his posture that hinted at the urgency of their visit. His sharp eyes scanned the room before settling on Cid, and for a moment, the two locked gazes. Behind him, Jafar followed, his expression a mix of intensity and irritation. Jafar glared at Cid as if he were the source of all their troubles, and Cid couldn’t help but feel that scrutiny.
Both of them had fully healed from the injuries they’d sustained during their harrowing encounter with Sandra, and now they stood before him, seemingly unscathed but radiating an aura that set Cid on edge.
Alan: “Hello Cid,” he greeted, trying to be friendly.
Cid: “Why are you here?” Cid replied, trying to keep his tone neutral, though he could feel Jafar’s piercing gaze bearing down on him like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms defensively, already bracing for whatever they were about to throw at him.
Alan: “We came to thank you for what you did for us,” Alan said, his sincerity evident. His words were measured, but there was a warmth to them that caught Cid off guard.
Cid: “Okay, now you have. You can go,” Cid said, attempting to end the conversation as quickly as possible. He wanted to limit his time with them; their presence seemed to disrupt the delicate calculations he had been making with the Book of Grand Design. The last thing he needed was their involvement complicating matters further. He gestured toward the door, hoping they would take the hint.
Alan let out a sigh, turning toward Jafar.
Alan: “I told you he wouldn’t appreciate this. Let’s go.”
But Jafar wasn’t ready to let it go.
Jafar: “How did you know about Sandra?” he interrupted, his voice sharp and demanding, stopping them from leaving. He took a step forward, his gaze locked on Cid, unyielding.
Cid
: “Who?” Cid replied, genuinely confused. The name didn’t register in his mind, and he felt a flicker of irritation at the sudden shift in the conversation. He frowned, leaning forward slightly, his fingers drumming on the edge of his desk.Jafar: “Don’t play dumb, Cid,” Jafar pressed, his intensity unwavering. “You were involved in that whole mess. You must know something.”
Cid’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what Jafar was implying. Sandra—the name still didn’t ring a bell, but the way Jafar said it, with such urgency and accusation, made it clear that this was someone important. Someone tied to the chaos they’d just survived. He glanced at Alan, hoping for some clarity, but Alan’s expression looked as confused as he was by Jafar's sudden outburst.
Cid: “Look,” Cid said, his voice tinged with exasperation, “I don’t know who you’re talking about. If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Otherwise, I’ve got work to do.”
Alan stepped forward, positioning himself between Jafar and Cid, a protective gesture that spoke volumes. His presence was a buffer, a calming force in the midst of Jafar’s rising agitation.
Alan: “Calm down, Jafar,” Alan said, his voice steady but firm. “What’s gotten into you? You’re the one who wanted to come here and thank Cid. He helped me save your life. Why are you acting like this? I know he can be cold, but Cid’s not a bad person.”
Jafar’s eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over.
Jafar: “Alan, listen,” he shot back, his voice sharp and edged with suspicion. “I don’t know what Cid is doing, but I know it has something to do with mathematics. When we faced off against Sandra, she mentioned something about mathematics discovering her early. And now, here we are, standing in front of the one person I know who has unheard of mathematics. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
Alan’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding his features.
Alan: “Huh? Jafar, what are you saying? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Jafar: “I’m saying that Cid might have been working with Sandra,” Jafar snapped, his voice rising as he pointed an accusatory finger at Cid. “He might not have been in league with Sorin, but he could have been with her. It’s why she was talking about being found through some sort of flawed mathematics. She knew someone was onto her, and I’m betting it was him. I think they might have been working together, maybe even before Sorin.” The accusation hung in the air, heavy and charged, like the crackle of electricity before a storm.
Cid felt a jolt of shock at the accusation directed at him. His mind raced, quickly piecing together that this Sandra must be the Rattle Bone cultist behind the chaos they had recently faced. But the connection Jafar was trying to forge between him and Sandra was utterly unfounded. He had never met her; his only knowledge of her existence came from the cryptic references in the Book of Grand Design. The idea that he had somehow been involved with her was absurd, yet the intensity in Jafar’s eyes suggested he wasn’t going to let this go easily.
Alan turned to Cid, his expression shifting from confusion to shock.
Alan: “Is that… true?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Cid met Alan’s gaze, his own eyes steady despite the tension coiling in his chest.
Cid
: “No,” he replied, his voice firm and unwavering. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. I’ve never met Sandra. I don’t even know who she is beyond what I’ve read in the reports.”Jafar: “Then why did she mention mathematics?” he pressed, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of Jafar’s accusation. “Unless she knew something about you. Maybe through some kind of interaction. Which would mean you must have known what Sorin was doing!”
Cid’s jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin.
Cid: “I wasn't involved with what Sorin was doing. My only involvement was stopping it,” he said, his voice clipped. “And I certainly didn’t know Sandra. Whatever she was talking about, it has nothing to do with me.”
Jafar stepped forward, his frustration boiling over.
Jafar: “Then explain it, Cid! Explain how she knew about mathematics being used to find her. Because right now, the only person I know who fits that bill is you.”
Cid met Jafar’s glare with a calm but steely expression, though the tension in the room was palpable.
Cid: “I can’t,” he said simply, his voice even.
Jafar’s eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over.
Jafar: “You seem to know a lot of things you’re not revealing, but you can’t explain this? That doesn’t add up.”
Cid leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him as he regarded Jafar with a measured gaze.
Cid: “Do you know all the laws of thermodynamics? Probably not. But you still live by those rules, regardless of whether you can explain them or not. I didn’t know about Sandra, but I still helped you find her. And you’re alive because of it. Why not just accept that and walk away?”
Jafar let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.
Jafar: “A non-answer,” he dismissed, his tone dripping with skepticism. “So either you’re lying, or you’re hiding something. Which is it?”
Cid sat there, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and unease. How did it come to this? Accusations flying and now the unsettling realization that something—or someone—had noticed his involvement in the recent chaos. His thoughts spiraled back to the cryptic warning from the Book of Grand Design: looking too closely at what had noticed him could fully expose him. But now, with Jafar’s words echoing in his mind, it seemed the veil of secrecy was already slipping. Sandra, the Rattle Bone cultist, had somehow become aware of him. How? And how much did she truly know?
The questions gnawed at him, relentless and unyielding. Jafar’s accusations, though harsh, aligned disturbingly well with the fragments of information Cid had pieced together from the book. It was becoming painfully clear that he could no longer keep his abilities entirely hidden. He needed to explain, to clarify his position, but he had to tread carefully. Revealing too much could expose him to even greater danger.
As he wrestled with how to articulate the complexity of his situation, his gaze fell upon the open page of the Book of Grand Design resting on his desk. The symbols began to shift and rearrange themselves, forming new patterns that only he could decipher. Cid’s breath caught in his throat as he realized what was happening. The book was communicating with him, revealing something critical, something that connected the dots in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
His eyes widened as he deciphered the message unfolding before him. The revelation hit him like a lightning, sending shockwaves through his mind. He looked up at Jafar, his expression one of stunned disbelief.
Cid: “You fucking little snitch…” he breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them.