Page 69 of Shadowed Whispers

“Right,” I agree, eager to shift my focus back to the intriguing challenge of the cipher wheel.

“You’ll have to read chapter thirty before we meet tomorrow to understand the history and how a cipher works. Tomorrow, we will go over parts of it and read the letter.” Bishop outlines the chapter I need to read and the resources I’ll need, and then hands me a small booklet filled with historical contexts and potential starting points. It’s a lot of reading, but luckily, I don’t work tonight, so I can chill in my dorm while reading.

“Got all that?” Bishop asks, his eyes twinkling with a mix of humor and expectation.

“Got it,” I confirm, my mind already racing with ideas and strategies. The cipher wheel suddenly feels even more significant, a tangible connection to a past filled with secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Matteo nudges me gently. “Time to face the music,” he whispers, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, the music and the musician,” I quip, gathering my things.

Matteo opens the door for me, and we step out to find Dorian waiting, his expression stormy yet expectant. I take a deep breath, ready to juggle the delicate balance between my past and my future, between mysteries and the known, all while knowing that whatever lies ahead, I have the tools—and the allies—I need to face it.

Chapter 23

Frankie

The cipher booklet feels heavy in my pocket as I walk into the computer lab after a tense lunch with Dorian in the cafeteria. He ignored me the entire time, and I’m a little salty that he didn’t take me to the secret archives below the library.

He’s punishing me.

With no other classes until tomorrow, I decide that I should work on my thesis. Holding a large cup of iced coffee in my hand, I step into the air-conditioned space. Goosebumps prickle my skin as a shiver works through me, the door softly closing behind me with a quiet whoosh.

Shaking it off, I head down to the lab. As I make my way down, chatter echoes around me. Nerves flutter inside me as I enter the open space. Several students form a semicircle around the large screen at the front of the room, talking excitedly together. Ignoring them, I put my earbuds in and sit at my spot, my canvas bag between my legs. Sitting at the station is like crawling into bed after a long day. The sheets are welcoming, and the pillowcase is cool. As binaural beats fill my mind and my fingertips fly over the keyboard, I lose myself to the code.

I dive deeper into my thesis, and the world around me fades away. The computer screen’s glow is the only thing I can see, the code the only language I understand. The cipher feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket, but I push it to the back of my mind, focusing on my work. I’ve always had a knack for this kind of stuff, and it shows in my grades. I think a part of me actually showing up here at college was just to prove to myself I could do it.

Hours pass by in a blink of an eye, and when I resurface from my caffeine-fueled trance, I notice that the lab has emptied out save for the same students hunched over a terminal at the far end of the room. I stretch, my muscles stiff from hours spent hunched over the keyboard. As I save my progress, I’m about to gather my things when a snippet of conversation catches my ear—something about Dorian and ancient symbols. The same group of students is still by the front screen, their excitement palpable. I pause, my bag half lifted. Curiosity gnaws at me, fueled by the cold lunch interaction with Dorian. Despite my resolve to focus on my own work, I find myself drawn to the group. The mystery of Dorian’s behavior and his secretive project tugs at me, a puzzle I’m unable to ignore.

I lean against the wall, feigning disinterest as I slowly pull out one earbud. The screen flickers intermittently, casting eerie shadows across their faces, making the conversation feel all the more clandestine. Fragments of the group’s discussion drift toward me.

“Yeah, I saw him earlier. He was totally zoned into the mainframe, like he was trying to communicate with it,” one of the students says, his voice a mix of awe and confusion.

“And did you see the way he was entering those commands? It was like he knew exactly what to do,” another adds, her tone both admiring and wary.

A third chimes in, lowering his voice. “I heard from Professor Marlin that Dorian’s project on cybernetic algorithms is groundbreaking, like it could change our whole approach to AI, but after today, I’m starting to think there’s more to it. Did you see those symbols and coordinates that flashed up? They looked ancient, almost like?—”

The first student cuts him off, scanning the room as if checking for eavesdroppers. “Shh, not so loud. You know how rumors spread. But yeah, it’s weird. Almost like those old sigil myths we joked about freshman year.”

Their words fuel a new kind of excitement within me. Dorian’s behavior suddenly makes more sense, but it also deepens the mystery of him. What is he really working on, and why is he so secretive about it? I need to know more, but as they start to disperse, I realize I won’t uncover anything else today. With a sigh, I plug my earbud back in and head toward the door, my mind buzzing with questions.

That is when he slips into the computer lab like a shadow, his presence almost unnoticed among the hum of machinery and the low murmur of lingering students. Dorian’s eyes scan the room with protective vigilance. He moves with purpose, his steps silent but determined as he approaches the mainframe that houses both the source of today’s chaos and the reason the other students are still chattering. Somehow, he doesn’t even notice me standing off to the side, but he notices all the other students who snap to attention when he walks in.

As he reaches the terminal, his expression hardens. The screen flickers sporadically, displaying flashes of ancient sigils mixed with lines of code and symbols. A part of me is damn curious because those symbols remind me of the cipher.

He places his hands on the keyboard, his fingers poised with an air of confidence that belies the gravity of the situation. Each keystroke is deliberate, a blend of modern technology and arcane knowledge that few could comprehend, much less implement. What is going on? Now my curiosity is committed, and I wish the wall could hide me a little better because it is only a matter of time before he notices me.

Dorian’s focus is absolute, the room around him fading to nothing as he enters commands that seem to dance on the edge of magic and logic. Dorian’s focus snaps from the screen to the group of students clustered near the main terminal, their whispers growing louder in the now tense atmosphere. He stands abruptly, turning to face them with an intensity I’ve rarely seen.

“Everyone, I need you to leave the lab now,” he commands, his voice cutting through the ambient hum of the computers, leaving no room for argument. The room falls silent, his presence more chilling than the air conditioning that had already filled the space with a tangible coolness. “This isn’t a show. The lab is off-limits until further notice.”

A wave of quiet dissent ripples through the group, but a sharp glare from Dorian silences it. “Now,” he adds, his voice echoing slightly, its reverberation lingering like a ghostly whisper. Reluctantly, the students gather their things and shuffle toward the exit, casting curious and slightly frightened glances over their shoulders.

Once they leave, Dorian turns back to the terminal, his hands poised as if to resume his work. That’s when his eyes find me, hidden in the shadow of my little spot in the lab, my presence barely noticeable until now.

For a suspended moment, we just stare at each other. I can feel the tension in the air, thick with questions he knows I want to ask. His face softens, the stern authority melting into a more vulnerable expression. I hadn’t meant for him to catch me eavesdropping—not now, not like this.

“Frankie,” he starts, his voice lowering to a near whisper, “I didn’t see you there. You should go too. It isn’t safe here right now.”

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