Ignatius hauls himself up, dusts his robes off and surveys the mess of the campus.
“Alistair, seal the Veil… Riven, guard the opening,” he shouts orders across the campus.
Alistair responds instantly, throwing his hands out and harnessing dozens of ribbons of magic from the tower walls.
I grab Ignatius’s arm.“What does Interitus want with a dead woman?”
“Close the Veil.Make the campus safe.Then we worry about Lucy.She’ll be… she can handle herself, I assure you.”
It’s the second time I’ve asked, and the second time he’s avoided answering.
“I want answers,” I snap, but he’s power-marching across to a group of struggling students.
Professor Verrill’s head pops out from an archway, and she flings several more threads of power originating from the library.They’re more stable than the magic peeling from the tower, thank gods.
I run to help Alistair, he’s the only one with the skill to seal the Veil.Lucy’s magic grumbles in my veins, but I push it down, calling out to the campus instead.Black shadowy ribbons fly from the walls I pass.Seal the Veil.Get answers.
There’s movement in my periphery.
One minute I’m standing, the next I’m on my back staring into hollow, soulless eyes.
I don’t think, I act.
The blade meets flesh, squelching as I push it through its chest and pull up, splitting the creature’s torso wide open.Thick, dark liquid spills over my body and I wretch.Despite deep heaves, nothing comes out.Whatever it’s spewed on me smells vile.Like stale cigarettes, boiled flesh and stagnant water.
Up.Get up, Midnight.I fling magic at the void.Alistair works so fast beside me, his hands are a blur.
“The fabric that sat in the hole was eviscerated.So we have to use the frayed edges, double the thread and use everything we have to pull them tight and hope the Veil can stretch that far.If it does, we can seal it with reinforced stitching.”
“On it,” I say as I join him.Though this is way outside of my comfort zone, yes, I’m good at cutting and sealing the Veil now, but reinforcing and drawing the Veil tight are not things I’ve done before.
He slings me a devious grin.That son of a bitch, he’s making it a game.The same way he would in class.
Oh, it’s on.
Faster and faster my hands move, winding through thread and magic and weaving.But as I catch up to his pace, he’s taken out by a Societas member.Alistair lands hard, a cracking sound that echoes against the brick and cobbles and makes my stomach turn.
“Fuck,” I stitch faster, beads of sweat pool on my neck, cooling and dribbling a cold line down my spine.
He screams, a piercing cry that rattles my teeth.I risk a glance at him; his dark skin has greyed.
A leg or maybe his ankle blown.I work faster.It allows Architecti to dispatch the last of the Societas members.
Alistair can’t help.He’s in too much pain.But I can’t do this alone.Not with my mortal magic.And I can’t use Lucy’s while Ignatius is around.
Architecti swipes her wings and fists as fast as I wend and weave the Veil.
My vision swims as I fight to pull more magic from Finis campus.But it’s not enough.I need more,a lot more.I’m not fully anchored to the two halves of the Veil.
The campus has grown quiet, littered with bodies and carcasses rather than wraiths and Societas members.We’re winning, though not without significant casualties.
My vision swims in and out of focus, I don’t know how much longer I can keep going.I lurch forward, coughing as my nose fills with blood.It splatters against the ground, making such pretty patterns on the cobbles.
Architecti breathes heavy, her shoulders heaving up and down.
“H—help.Me,” I manage to stutter before collapsing to my knees.I cough up more blood, my lungs searing with the strain of trying to breathe.My head squeezes from the pressure of wielding more magic than I’ve ever harnessed before.
Lucy’s demon magic plumes inside me, swelling and scratching at my insides, begging to be released.It’s too much.I can’t pull the Veil any tighter and it won’t seal if the edges don’t meet.
