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“Anything else?” I push, my heart starting to gallop.
“No… why?” Peta answers, casting his gaze over each of us.
I gulp, turning to look at Creed and Zane, who both look at me with the same uncertainty in their eyes that I feel deep down in my soul.
“We have witnessed an ability from him that we believe he keeps secret, but we also haven’t seen him use any telekinesis,” I breathe, and Peta scoffs.
“Impossible, that man used his abilities every second of every moment,” he insists. “What have you seen him do?”
I wet my lips, looking down at the scattered sheets on the floor before returning to them. “We’ve witnessed him skinwalking.”
Peta goes still, his jaw slack as Marieta lifts a hand to her chest, shaking her head softly.
“That’s inconceivable. He… there’s only ever been one skinwalker. If Erikel had been one, he would have been captured by The Monarchy instead of slaughtered.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. We’ve seen him shift before our very eyes. He can do it,” Zane insists, and Peta finally moves again.
“Or the person doing the skinwalking was doing it.”
If I thought all of this skinwalking bullshit was too much before, it just went to a whole other level. Fuck. No wonder my head is pounding.
“Who was the only known skinwalker?” Creed asks. Marieta and Peta look at each other for the longest moment, like they’re trying to piece it together, but it doesn’t seem possible to them.
“Tiran, Tiran Burton.”
FOUR
RAVEN
We’re filtered through the gateways like cattle, reappearing at Silvercrest Academy as if we never left, as if my life hasn’t altered, everything tipped upside down and burning my soul with raw purpose.
The atmosphere is solemn. Not from the loss of Genie, who has been left in the sand at Ashdale, as you would expect. It seems to be more from the fact that we don’t have a single freaking clue about what is actually going on around us.
Not me.
Not Brax.
Not anyone.
There’s no way to predict what is to come, what Erikel will throw at us next. We’re simply expected to follow our new leader blindly, just like the students from Shadowgrim Institute.
How they’re handling the situation right now is what sets us apart. We could all be in the same clothing and their calmness would identify them clearly. They’re not floundering, etched with concern, and fighting to keep their heads above water. They’re used to it. Probably enjoying the excitement of the unknown at this point.
It’s not for me.
Not one bit.
Standing with the growing crowd of students, we all reluctantly await our next direction, but to my surprise, Erikel waves his hand in the air. “Men, assemble. The Monarchy attack is imminent. We must prepare,” he orders, sauntering off without a backward glance.
The students from Shadowgrim follow after him with ease while the rest of us remain in place. I don’t know what he’s planning for. The Monarchy’s plan wasn’t to ambush them. It was all about our extraction, at least for the time being. If he thinks I’m going to help prepare to take down our only hope, he’s delusional.
“The rest of you head back to your houses. Tomorrow will proceed as normal,” Fitch declares, effectively dismissing us before his gaze zeros in on Leila. One wave of his hand and she shuffles from foot to foot beside me.
“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” I hear myself say, despite the fact that we still need to act as normal as possible. But more and more, we’re seeing what he can achieve, how there’s more to him than we know. Forced by magic or not, Fitch can’t be trusted.
She turns her gaze to me, the panic in her eyes clear, but despite the shimmer of doubt, she shakes her head. “I’m good.”
Grave lets her go without complaint, but I don’t miss the way he watches her go, scrubbing nervously at the back of his neck. If he knew what we know about Fitch, would he defend her, protect her, or feed her to the lions?
