KING OF IVORY AND BLOOD

The Name They Tried to Erase

Seraphina Voss's POV

The promise I made to my father the previous evening refused to leave my mind. Even after waking up, even while making my bed, even while brushing my hair in front of the small mirror hanging above my desk. Someone had erased him, not forgotten but erased.

There was a difference. People forgot names over time but records didn't disappear unless someone wanted them to.

I looked at the framed photograph resting on my desk. Dad's familiar smile seemed unchanged, as though he still believed every problem had a solution if one searched long enough.

"I'll find out what happened," I whispered before slipping the photograph carefully into my backpack.

"I promise."

Cassia was already dressed by the time I turned around.

She was trying—unsuccessfully—to tie her shoelaces while balancing on one foot.

"Morning," she said.

"Morning."

She finally gave up and sat on the bed.

"I have a very important question."

I smiled. "I'm listening."

"Do you think university life gets easier after the first week?"

"I hope so."

"I hope so too."

She sighed dramatically.

"I've signed forms I don't even remember reading."

I laughed.

"That's because you talk while signing."

"I multitask."

"You distract yourself."

She grinned.

"Same difference."

She picked up her backpack.

"Come on. Today's registration schedule looks terrifying."

The campus looked even busier than before. Freshers hurried from one administrative building to another, clutching folders filled with admission documents, long queues had already formed outside the ICT Centre as nearby, volunteers directed students toward different service points.

Large banners fluttered in the morning breeze.

EMAIL ACTIVATION

STUDENT IDENTIFICATION

BANK ACCOUNT VERIFICATION

MEDICAL SCREENING

University life had officially begun.

"Looks like everyone had the same idea," Cassia muttered as we joined the queue outside the ICT Centre.

The line stretched almost to the walkway. Students entertained themselves while waiting, some introduced themselves to strangers while others complained about network delays.

One boy insisted he'd already memorised the registration process because he'd repeated it to three different officials.

Laughter rippled through the queue.

An hour later, we finally collected our university email credentials.

"One task completed," Cassia declared proudly.

"Only six hundred more to go."

Our next stop was the university bank.

The building was packed. Parents sat beside students filling out forms, bank officials moved from desk to desk answering endless questions.

By the time we finished opening our student accounts, the afternoon sun had climbed high above the campus.

"I'm starving," Cassia announced.

"You said that two hours ago."

"I've become even hungrier."

"I didn't know that was possible."

"It is."

She placed a hand over her stomach dramatically.

"My future depends on food."

I shook my head, laughing.

"Fine." "Let's eat."

Instead of heading straight to the cafeteria, we stopped beside a shaded walkway where several student vendors had arranged tables displaying second-hand textbooks, calculators and stationery.

A handwritten sign caught Cassia's attention.

USED BOOKS – HALF PRICE

Her eyes widened.

"This..."

She pointed enthusiastically.

"...is exactly what my budget needs."

I followed her between the tables. Students flipped through textbooks while bargaining cheerfully with the sellers.

I picked up a copy of Introduction to Economic Analysis before placing it back.

"I'll wait until our lecturers release the official reading list."

"Responsible decision."

Cassia held up three books.

"I, however, choose financial adventure."

Not far from the book stalls stood a large noticeboard protected by glass. Several students had gathered around it.

Curious, I stepped closer. Rows of framed photographs covered almost the entire board as each picture displayed a lecturer beneath a small gold plaque.

DISTINGUISHED SCHOLARS OF AURELIUS UNIVERSITY

The university's finest minds. I scanned the faces slowly. Older professors, Award-winning researchers, Former department heads. Some photographs dated back decades as my heartbeat quickened.

Surely...Dad would be here.

He loved this university, he had dedicated years of his life to it. I searched every row but no Dr. Elias Voss. No photograph and no plaque.

"Seraphina?"

Cassia's voice sounded distant. I barely heard her.

Even lecturers who had served for only a few years appeared on the board and yet the man who had spoken so passionately about Aurelius didn't exist.

That was what someone wanted people to believe.

"You okay?"

I nodded automatically. "Just thinking."

She followed my gaze.

"Looking for someone?"

"My father."

She quietly searched the board herself.

When she finished, she looked back at me.

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

We stood there for another moment before continuing toward the campus bookstore. Neither of us spoke as the silence said enough.

The university bookstore occupied an entire corner of the Student Centre. Inside, shelves stretched from floor to ceiling.

Fresh textbooks filled one section, laboratory manuals occupied another. A smaller shelf near the back displayed university souvenirs and commemorative publications.

While Cassia wandered toward the stationery section, something caught my attention. A thick navy-blue hardcover book.

FIFTY YEARS OF AURELIUS UNIVERSITY

I carefully removed it from the shelf. It looked as though very few students ever touched it.

My pulse quickened.

If the university had documented fifty years of history…Then Dad had to be somewhere inside.

I opened the contents page.

Faculty History.

Exactly what I needed.

My fingers turned the pages carefully.

Engineering.

Medicine.

Law.

Economics.

Research Achievements.

Academic Excellence.

Every section celebrated people who had helped shape Aurelius.

I searched every page, every caption, every staff photograph but nothing. No one mentioned Elias Voss.

Then something unusual caught my eye. Several pages near the middle looked different. The paper felt newer.

The colour didn't quite match the surrounding pages, almost as though they had been replaced during printing.

A strange feeling settled over me, books weren't supposed to have missing histories.

I closed it slowly.

"I'll take this."

The cashier scanned the commemorative book before placing it inside a paper bag.

"Not many freshers buy this one," she said with a friendly smile.

I looked up.

"Really?"

She nodded.

"Most students are interested in course materials. That book is mostly purchased by alumni during reunions."

I forced a smile.

"I like history."

"Then you'll enjoy it."

I thanked her, though I wasn't entirely convinced.

Something told me I hadn't bought the book because I enjoyed history. I'd bought it because someone had tried to change it.

Outside the bookstore, the afternoon breeze swept across the Student Centre.

Nearby, members of different student associations invited newcomers to join their organizations.

"Debating Society!"

"Volunteer Corps!"

"Campus Press!"

Their voices blended into the lively rhythm of the afternoon.

Cassia linked her arm through mine.

"So..."

I looked at her.

"So?"

"Since we've successfully survived registration and shopping..."

She smiled mischievously.

"...I vote for food."

I laughed.

"You're always thinking about food."

"I'm growing."

"You stopped growing years ago."

"Says who?"

"My common sense."

She gasped dramatically.

"I feel attacked."

We stopped at a small campus café overlooking one of the gardens. Unlike the crowded cafeteria, this place felt quieter.

Students sat beneath colourful umbrellas, reading or chatting over drinks. We found an empty table near the edge of the garden.

The waiter handed us menus.

Cassia barely looked at hers.

"I already know what I want."

"Of course you do."

"What about you?"

I smiled.

"Something simple."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You're thinking again."

"I know."

"You're thinking about your dad."

My smile faded.

There was no point denying it.

"I don't understand it."

I stared absentmindedly at the paper bag containing the university history book.

"His name isn't anywhere."

"Not in the library."

"Not on the honours board."

"Not even in the university's own history."

Cassia rested her elbows on the table. "Maybe there's another explanation."

"Like what?"

"I don't know."

She spoke carefully.

"Maybe records were lost."

"Maybe someone made mistakes."

"Maybe..."

Even she didn't sound convinced.

I sighed quietly.

"I just wish someone would tell me the truth."

After lunch, we decided to take the longer route back toward the hostel.

The shaded pathway wound behind several administrative buildings where staff members moved between offices carrying stacks of files.

The area was noticeably quieter than the student centre. As we rounded a corner, an elderly man emerged from one of the buildings.

He carried so many files that they almost covered his face. Before either of us could react he stumbled.

The folders slipped from his hands as documents scattered across the pavement.

"Oh!"

I immediately knelt to help.

"I'm so sorry."

"It was my fault," the elderly man replied, slightly out of breath.

Together we began gathering the papers. As I reached for the last folder, something slipped from between the pages of my notebook.

My father's photograph. It landed face up on the ground.

The elderly man's hand stopped halfway. His eyes fixed on the photograph as everything else around us seemed to disappear.

His fingers trembled as he slowly picked it up and for several long seconds he simply stared. His lips parted ever so slightly.

Then, almost unconsciously, he whispered,

"...Elias."

The sound hit me like a bolt of lightning.

I stood so quickly that one of the folders nearly fell again.

"You know him?"

The question escaped before I could stop it. The old man's eyes met mine as fear flashed across his face. Real fear, not confusion, not uncertainty but fear.

He looked down at the photograph once more before placing it carefully into my hand.

"I..."

His voice faltered.

"...I'm sorry."

"You've mistaken me."

My heart pounded.

"No."

I stepped closer.

"You said his name."

He gathered the remaining files with hurried movements.

"I shouldn't have."

"Please."

I took another step.

"My name is Seraphina."

"He's my father."

"If you knew him..."

The elderly man froze for only a heartbeat.

Then he shook his head. "I don't know anyone by that name."

"But—" "I'm sorry."

Without another word, he turned and walked away. Not quickly enough to draw attention, not slowly enough for me to stop him.

Within moments...He disappeared into the crowd of university staff.

I remained standing exactly where I was still holding the photograph, still hearing the way he'd whispered my father's name.

Cassia placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Seraphina..."

I looked at her.

"He knew him."

She nodded slowly.

"I think he did."

"He recognised the photograph immediately."

"He even said his name."

"I heard it."

My thoughts raced.

"So why deny it?"

Cassia looked toward the direction the man had disappeared.

"Maybe..."

She paused.

"...because he was afraid."

Those words settled heavily between us.

Afraid.

It was the same expression I'd seen on the groundskeeper's face, the same hesitation in the librarian's voice, the same silence surrounding every question about my father. This wasn't a coincidence anymore, it was a pattern.

Someone had spent years making sure people stayed silent and judging by the elderly man's reaction...

That silence hadn't been voluntary. I closed my fingers around the photograph and for the first time I finally had proof that my father hadn't been forgotten.

Someone remembered him, they were simply too frightened to admit it. Neither of us spoke for several moments.

Two lecturers discussed examination schedules while walking toward the Senate Building. Life moved on but mine didn't.

I looked down at the photograph in my hands. The edges had begun to curl from years of being carried from one place to another.

Dad's smile remained calm and reassuring. The same smile the elderly man had recognized in an instant.

"He knew him," I whispered again.

This time, I wasn't trying to convince Cassia, i was convincing myself because after days of unanswered questions, someone had finally reacted.

Cassia gently touched my arm. "We can still catch him."

I looked toward the direction the old man had disappeared. The walkway was crowded now. It was filled with Administrative staff, Students, Security officers, and Visitors.

He had vanished into the afternoon traffic.

"No."

I shook my head slowly.

"If someone is that frightened..."

I paused.

"...chasing him won't make him talk."

Cassia nodded.

"You're probably right."

People weren't refusing to answer because they didn't know, they were refusing because they were afraid. Fear was protecting something or someone.

The walk back to the hostel felt unusually quiet and even Cassia, who normally filled every silence with a joke or a random observation, seemed lost in thought.

As we crossed the central courtyard, a group of students gathered around a noticeboard announcing auditions for the university choir. Nearby, another crowd celebrated after winning a departmental quiz competition. Their excitement contrasted sharply with the weight pressing on my chest.

I wondered if any of them had ever questioned the history of this university or if they simply accepted the version placed before them.

Back in our room, Cassia placed her books on her desk before turning toward me.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I sat on the edge of my bed. "I don't even know where to start."

She pulled her chair closer.

"Start with what you're thinking."

I stared at my father's photograph for a long moment.

"When I was little, my father used to tell me stories about this university."

I smiled faintly.

"He talked about his students like they were family."

"He remembered their names."

"Their dreams."

"The mistakes they made."

"He loved teaching."

My smile slowly faded.

"So how does someone like that disappear?"

Cassia didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she asked quietly,

"Did he ever tell you why he left Aurelius?"

I thought back. All those evenings, all those conversations. The answer surprised me.

"No."

"He never did."

"He always stopped talking whenever I asked."

For the first time, that memory felt significant. He hadn't been hiding the past from me, maybe he had been protecting me from it.

That evening, after Cassia fell asleep, I remained awake at my desk. The commemorative book lay open before me.

I carefully compared the newer pages with the older ones, the difference was subtle, almost impossible to notice unless someone looked closely.

But now that I've seen it...I couldn't ignore it, someone had altered this book, someone had changed the university's story and if they could rewrite history inside a published book...

What else had they erased?

I closed the cover slowly.

"No more guessing," I whispered.

"From now on..." "I'll follow the evidence."

Across campus, inside a modest office tucked away behind the Records Department, the elderly man closed the door quietly behind him.

His nameplate read:

MR. EDWIN HALE Retired Senior Records Officer

He removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. For several minutes, he simply stood there, silent. Then he walked toward an old wooden cabinet hidden behind stacks of files.

He unlocked the bottom drawer with a small brass key. Inside rested a faded photograph.

Five young lecturers stood outside the Old Administrative Building, smiling proudly at the camera. One of them was unmistakable.

Dr. Elias Voss. He was younger and confident.

Mr. Hale picked up the photograph with trembling fingers.

"I warned you," he whispered into the empty room.

"I told you the truth would cost you everything."

A soft knock echoed against the office door. His head snapped up, as he hurriedly returned the photograph to the drawer, locked it, and slipped the key back into his pocket.

Another knock, this one firmer.

Mr. Hale switched off the desk lamp as darkness settled over the room. He remained perfectly still not making a sound.

Outside, the visitor waited for several seconds before slowly walking away and only after the footsteps disappeared did Mr. Hale release the breath he had been holding.

Back in my hostel room, I stood beside the window, looking out at the lights scattered across Aurelius University.

From here, everything looked peaceful, beautiful and safe. Yet beneath that beauty...Something was buried, something people had spent years trying to forget.

I held my father's photograph against my chest.

For the first time since arriving at Aurelius...I wasn't searching for memories anymore, i was searching for the people who had stolen them and I had a feeling...

One of them had looked me in the eyes that afternoon.