Beyond

Knocking on destiny's door

Lysander's office was a quiet, intellectual sanctuary nestled within the older wing of the university. The room was a testament to years of accumulated knowledge and quiet reflection. Tall, dark oak bookshelves lined two of the walls, their shelves filled with ancient texts, leather-bound volumes, and thick academic journals. Dust clung to the spines of some, while others had the telltale signs of being well-worn, pages yellowed from years of frequent use.

The large window behind his desk let in a soft, muted light, casting long shadows across the floor and making the room feel smaller, more intimate. Through the glass, the campus grounds were visible—a scattering of trees with golden autumn leaves, students passing by in their coats, heading to and from classes. A peaceful, picturesque scene, though today it did little to ease the growing tension in Lysander's chest.

His desk, made of a deep mahogany, was organised with meticulous care, save for the current lecture notes that were splayed out across the surface. On the far corner of the desk sat a small brass lamp, its green glass shade giving off a warm, comforting glow. An inkwell and a fountain pen rested beside a stack of parchment, a nod to his love of the traditional methods of writing, even in an age where laptops and tablets were the norm. His reading glasses lay on top of a stack of papers, forgotten for the moment as his thoughts drifted far from the work in front of him. The air was thick with the scent of old books and parchment, mingling with a faint hint of Lysander's preferred blend of tea, which sat cold and untouched in a cup beside him. A few personal items adorned the shelves—a framed photograph of a much younger Lysander with Matilda, their smiles bright and unguarded, taken long before their worlds had grown so complicated. A small, intricately carved wolf figurine rested beside the photo, a subtle reminder of the ties that bound his life to more than just this academic world. Outside the office door, muffled footsteps echoed down the stone hallways, the occasional murmur of students drifting through the silence. But in here, it was quiet, save for the ticking of an old clock on the wall, its rhythmic beat a constant reminder of time slipping away.

Lysander Hawthorne sat at his desk, the steady hum of the university filling the air outside his office window. His office, a sanctuary of knowledge and solitude, usually provided a sense of comfort. But today, something felt off. He was staring down at his lecture notes, but his mind was far from the material he was supposed to teach today.

He tapped his pen against the lecture notes spread out before him, barely registering the words he had written. It was supposed to be a lesson on Celtic mythology, it was about the legend of Oisin and Niamh—one of his favourite topics to teach, a subject that had always captured the imagination of his students. But no matter how much he tried to focus on his outline, his mind kept drifting, an unsettling feeling gnawing at him.

Piper.

He hadn't seen her in class for at least three lessons. At first, he had assumed she was simply caught up with other responsibilities—students had busy lives, and it wasn't uncommon for them to miss a class or two. But three in a row? That wasn't like her. Piper was always diligent, always curious, the kind of student who asked the questions no one else thought to ask. Her presence in his class had always been noticeable, not just because of her sharp intellect, but because there was something more... something that tugged at the edge of his awareness every time she was near. Her absence weighed heavily on him. With each passing day, each missed class, the feeling of unease inside him had only grown stronger.

Lysander leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowing as he replayed the last time he had seen her. She had seemed distracted that day, like her mind was elsewhere. She had sat in her usual spot, toward the middle of the lecture hall, her hazel eyes focused but distant, as if something was weighing heavily on her. But now, after her absence for almost two weeks, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. With a sigh, he pushed his chair back and stood, moving to the window. His gaze wandered over the campus grounds below, students milling about, laughing, hurrying to their next classes. His fingers tightened on the windowsill. Piper's absence wasn't just about missing a few lectures. There was a deeper reason for his concern.