Unspoken Shadows

Shadows of a Lost Identity

Lavi stood at the edge of the library's grand window, staring out at the sprawling campus as the late afternoon sun painted the sky with streaks of pink and gold. The air inside the library felt heavy, thick with the weight of knowledge, of history, and of secrets that had been buried long before he had ever arrived in this strange country. His fingers brushed over the worn spine of the book that had become his constant companion over the last two months—the one he never should've found.

Two months. That's how long it had been since he had started piecing together the fragments of his past—ever since he'd stumbled across that cursed book. At first, it had been simple curiosity that had led him to dig deeper, but the further he went, the more he realized that his entire life had been a carefully orchestrated lie. The truth of who he was, what he was, had been there all along—hidden in plain sight.

He wasn't just Lavi, the wanderer, the one always looking for answers in other people's stories. He was the missing prince of the Bookman family. Not missing in the traditional sense, though. No. The rest of the supernatural world thought he was dead.

Over the centuries, he had forgotten his own last name, lost to the passage of time, buried under the layers of different lives he had lived. But this book—this ancient, cursed book—had reminded him of it. Bookman. His name had resurfaced like a long-lost relic of a life he had tried to forget, like a scar that had never fully healed. It felt strange, foreign, to be tied back to a name that no longer felt like his own, a past he had thought was buried. Lavi. Bookman. It didn't quite fit him anymore, not with everything that had happened, but it was his. His bloodline, his legacy—whether he wanted it or not.

For a long time, he had believed that the stories of the prince were just that—stories. Tales passed down through families to keep old grudges alive, to remind them of the bloodlines that had shaped their world. But the more he read, the more he realized the truth: he was that prince. The prince they thought had died decades ago.

The knowledge had hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling. To think the entire supernatural world believed he was dead—it was surreal. And yet, there was something that didn't sit right with him. Allen. Allen had known.

From the moment they met, Allen had looked at him with a strange intensity, a kind of recognition that Lavi had brushed off at first. He thought it was just Allen being Allen—mysterious and secretive, always knowing more than he let on. But now, it was clear. Allen had known who he was all along. He'd known Lavi was the prince the moment they met.

The realization made Lavi's stomach twist with unease. How long had Allen been keeping this from him? Why hadn't he said anything? And more importantly, how deep was Allen's involvement with the Earl?

Lavi turned away from the window, letting the light fade behind him. His thoughts were in turmoil, swirling with every piece of information he had gathered over the past two months. Allen's behavior had grown more erratic, his lies more transparent. Tyki, always lurking, always one step ahead, had become a specter in Lavi's mind—haunting his every thought, his every decision. And then there was Kanda.

Lavi swallowed hard at the thought of Kanda. The way he had looked at him that night in the library after Lavi had almost fallen into bed with Tyki. That moment had shaken Lavi to his core—not just because he had been drunk and vulnerable, but because of what Tyki had been about to do. He had almost given in, almost let Tyki take him completely, in a moment of reckless abandon. But Kanda had been there to stop it. And that... that was what haunted Lavi most of all.

Kanda hadn't saved him out of kindness. No, Lavi could see the anger burning behind Kanda's cold, dark eyes every time they crossed paths now. Kanda hated him—not because of what had almost happened with Tyki, but because of what Lavi had done to his parents.

That truth gnawed at Lavi's conscience every day. The revelation that it had been him—accidentally, tragically—who had taken Kanda's parents from him all those years ago. And Kanda, ever silent, ever seething, had been carrying that knowledge, that hatred, ever since. Lavi didn't blame him for his anger. He had brought this on himself, even if he hadn't known it at the time.

Lavi sat down at one of the long wooden tables, the book still in his hand, and opened it to the pages he had marked the night before. More names, more connections, more secrets. His eyes scanned the text, picking out the important details. He had made a habit of taking notes in a separate journal, but even that felt inadequate. The information in this book was too vast, too complicated to condense into a few lines of scribbled thoughts.

Still, one thing was clear: he was close. Too close, maybe. And that's what scared him the most.

He ran a hand through his messy red hair, sighing. Two months. Two months of sleepless nights, of restless days, of constantly looking over his shoulder. He had always known that certain families held power in this world, but he hadn't realized how deep their roots went—how intertwined they were with everything. Even the Earl, the Black Order, the hunters—everything was connected in ways he hadn't imagined.

The more he uncovered, the more dangerous it became. But Lavi couldn't stop. Not now. Not when he was so close to finding out the truth about his past, about his family. About the Earl.

He slammed the book shut, frustrated. It felt like he was on the edge of something monumental, something that would change everything, but he couldn't quite grasp it yet. Every answer led to more questions, and the weight of it all was starting to crush him.

Then there was Allen. Lavi didn't know how much longer he could pretend not to notice the cracks in Allen's story. He had seen the guilt in Allen's eyes, the hesitation in his voice whenever the subject of the Earl or Tyki came up. Lavi wasn't an idiot. He knew something was wrong, but he didn't know how to confront it. Allen was his friend—at least, he had been. But now, every conversation felt like a game of chess, each of them trying to keep their own secrets hidden while pretending everything was fine.

But it wasn't fine. None of this was fine.

Lavi stood up suddenly, pacing the length of the library. His thoughts were racing, faster than he could control them. He needed to talk to someone, anyone—but who? Kanda? No, not Kanda. Kanda was still furious with him, still holding onto the grudge, the pain of what Lavi had done to his parents. Lavi wasn't ready to confront that yet. Tyki? That thought made him laugh bitterly. Tyki was the last person he could trust.

He stopped in front of a tall bookshelf, resting his forehead against the cool wood. His pulse was pounding in his ears. Two months. Two months of feeling like he was on the verge of unraveling everything—and two months of feeling like he was unraveling himself.

The worst part was that he wasn't sure he wanted to know the full truth anymore. What if everything he had uncovered was just the beginning? What if there was more? More lies, more betrayal, more danger? Could he handle it?

Lavi clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. He had to. He had come too far to turn back now.

His mind wandered back to that night in the library with Kanda. The moment when Kanda had stared him down, his eyes burning with barely contained emotion. That conversation had haunted Lavi ever since. There was something unspoken between them, something that Lavi couldn't quite place. But Kanda knew. He knew more than he was letting on, and that scared Lavi.

He pulled himself away from the bookshelf, heading back to the table where his journal lay open. He needed to keep going, to keep digging. There was no turning back now.

As he sat down and opened the book again, his fingers tracing the familiar pages, he couldn't help but feel like time was running out. Tyki, the Earl, the Bookman family—everything was converging, pulling him toward a conclusion he wasn't ready for. But ready or not, it was coming.

He glanced out the window one last time as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the campus grounds. The night was creeping in, and with it, a sense of dread that Lavi couldn't shake.

He had two choices: keep going, or walk away. But the truth was, there was no walking away from this. Not anymore.

So, with a deep breath, Lavi picked up his pen and began writing again. He had to figure this out. Before it was too late.