The Hollow Ledger

LOCATION: HARROW HOUSE — GRAND LIBRARY

The Harrow library was quiet.

Too quiet. Which was suspicious, considering Gideon had just broken a teacup thirty seconds ago and no one had materialized to scold him.

He was sitting on the floor. Like emotionally exhausted people do. Legs crossed, back against the shelves, and a look on his face that said: I don't even know what this book is but it's going to be a coaster now.

Then she entered.

Lady Seraphine Ashmourne Harrow.

Elegant. Powerful. Probably able to kill a man with her voice alone.

"Gideon."

He flinched like she'd thrown something at him. Which, to be fair, she usually did verbally.

She approached slowly, like someone about to pet a feral dog.

"You've been... active."

"That's one word for it," Gideon muttered. "Others include clumsy, stupid, and 'technically not dead.'"

Seraphine sat across from him. Not on the floor. On a fainting couch, because of course there was one nearby. Harrows didn't faint, but they sat dramatically.

She spoke calmly. Too calmly.

"You're not ready."

Gideon blinked. "Okay. Wow. Really starting strong, Mom."

"You're not trained. You're not focused. You dodge responsibility like it's a disease."

He stood up. Mostly to stop looking pathetic.

"Thanks. You always know just how to make me feel like garbage wrapped in parental regret."

She stood, too. Close enough that he could smell her perfume — smoke and winter roses.

"I say these things," she said, "because I want you to survive."

He paused.

"…That's new."

She reached into her coat and handed him a small coin.

Black steel. Harrow crest on one side. A blank seal on the other.

"When you're ready… this opens the Vault."

He stared at it like it was cursed. (Honestly, it probably was.)

Then he handed it back.

She didn't look surprised.

"I'm not ready," he said. "And I'm not pretending I am."

Seraphine nodded, took the coin back, and walked away.

Before leaving, she said:

"Don't let them see how weak you feel. Just show them how stubborn you are."

Gideon stood there for a long minute. Then muttered to himself—

"Cool. Weaponized guilt. Mom's favorite skill."

---

LOCATION: GIDEON'S ROOM — POST-ARGUMENT

He walked into his room, flopped on the bed like he'd just lost a war, and stared at the ceiling.

The Ledger was already open on his desk. Watching.

> "You should listen to your mother."

He groaned into his pillow. "Of course you heard everything."

> "I hear many things. Most of them are disappointing. But this one was surprisingly... sincere."

"I don't need a lecture, thanks."

> "I wasn't offering one. I was offering pity. Thinly disguised as sarcasm."

"Oh good. My favorite flavor of pity."

---

LOCATION: DINING HALL — ONE WEEK LATER

Alar summoned him.

Of course he did. Gideon could never eat in peace. Ever.

"You'll represent us at the Convocation," the old man said, not looking up from his cup.

Gideon blinked. "Is that like a ghost hunter convention or...?"

"It is a summit of Houses. They will see the next Keeper. They will judge you."

"Well, that sounds terrible."

"It is. Wear black. Be polite. Try not to trip over your own name."

---

LOCATION: HOUSE OF LUXEM GRAVES — THE FUNCTION

The Luxem Graves estate was like Harrow House if someone actually dusted and painted things. Everyone wore cloaks, gloves, and smug superiority.

Gideon stood near the entrance, clutching a wine glass like a weapon.

People whispered.

He caught a few:

> "That's him? The failed heir?" "Didn't he flunk out of mirror-binding school?" "His glyphs look like drunk chicken scratch."

He smiled. Forced. But smiled.

Because Seraphine was right. They couldn't see how much it actually stung.

Not until later.

---

LOCATION: COURTYARD — THE UNFORTUNATE FIST ENCOUNTER

He slipped outside for air.

That's when they found him.

Three of them. All tall, sharp-jawed, and clearly overcompensating for being born into rich bloodlines.

One leaned close.

"You're a disgrace to the Keeper name."

Another shoved him. "Your father would roll in his grave."

The third one just punched him. Right in the face.

Gideon staggered. Fell. Hit the gravel.

They laughed.

"Tell your House they should've chosen a real heir."

---

LOCATION: GIDEON'S ROOM — POST-BEATDOWN, ICE PACK ON FACE

The door slammed behind him. His nose throbbed. His ribs ached. His soul felt... small.

He didn't say anything. Just dropped the coat. Kicked off one shoe. Didn't bother with the other.

The Ledger opened.

> "You held your tongue."

Gideon grunted.

> "You didn't fight back."

"Didn't see the point."

> "You should have broken at least one of their bones."

Gideon snorted. "I thought you hated me."

> "I find you insufferable. But you are... mine."

That made him pause.

"Wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week."

> "You should aim higher."

Gideon laid on the bed.

The book floated beside him.

Then it whispered—

> "Get up."

He didn't move.

> "Get. Up. We begin."

"…Begin what?"

> "Training. Glyphs. Balance theory. Tactical haunt evasion. Spirit-pressure channeling. Punching better."

Gideon groaned. "Can we start with punching better?"

> "That's Chapter Eight. We're on Chapter One: 'How Not To Embarrass Me.'"

"Charming."

> "You are going to become the greatest Keeper of Accounts this world has ever seen."

"Is that... a promise?"

> "No. It's a threat. Now shut up and grab your chalk."