“I miss you every day,” Wren heard herself say. It wasn’t what she was supposed to say, but it didn’t matter. No matter what she said, Maeve wouldn’t listen. She was stuck playing out the part she was always meant to play.
“Mom,” Maeve repeated over the sound of the rain hitting the roof. “She’s gonna have our heads for this. There’s no way she didn’t wake up.”
Wren stared at the outline of her sister’s face and memorized it one last time. Somehow, she knew this would be her last chance. The last time she’d ever get to see her little sister’s face.
“I was always jealous of you,” Wren whispered. “You walked through life so effortlessly. Like this constant source of light. And you were oblivious to it. That natural gravitational pull you had. The way people were drawn to you. I always felt…dimmer. Not your shadow, necessarily. It was like you were the side of the moon others could see, brilliant and glimmering, and I was the other side…the one swallowed in darkness.”
Maeve couldn’t hear her. She never would. But even so, Wren went on.
“I tried to be better. I tried to be good. For you, Maeve. I tried. But I think something in me is drawn to the darkness. Because even now…even in death…it’s followed me. Even now I can’t run from it.” Wren choked back a sob as it clawed its way up her throat, and she reached out to touch her sister softly on the wrist. “I just hope that wherever you ended up, wherever you arenow…that you’re happy. That the light inside you is still burning. Because that would be enough for me. That would be enough.”
As the last words left Wren’s lips, Maeve gasped.
Wren knew what would happen next. She’d look out onto the road, and there, standing before them, would be a deer. Maeve would swerve the car to the left and they’d go rolling down the hill, flipping over a dozen times before skidding to a halt. Maeve would go first. Wren would watch, helpless, as her sister took her last breath. And then, finally, with a soft and merciful hand, death would take Wren.
But when Wren looked out onto the road, it wasn’t a deer she saw standing in front of the car.
It was a man.
A man she knew well.
With a sudden jolt, the scene froze. The car halted, as if suspended in motion; Maeve’s mouth hung open in terror, unmoving. Wren leaned forward, blinking, as though the man standing before her were simply a speck of dust she could wipe from her eyes. But no matter how hard she blinked, no matter how desperately she rubbed her eyes…Headmaster Silas remained.
“I don’t understand,” Wren choked out. “Why is he here?”
The darkness answered.
Because hewasthere.The Soulless One’s voice dripped into her mind.He was always there.
“But—” Wren unbuckled her seat belt, staggering out of the car. She fumbled as she regained her footing, shuffling toward Silas. Her temples throbbed. A dizzying wave seizing her skull. Just like the rest of the scene, Headmaster Silas remained frozen, his eyes focused on the car ahead. “There was a deer. I—I saw it. I remember—”
You remember what he wants you to remember.
Wren’s head spun viciously. She placed her hands upon her temples, a tidal wave of memories washing over her. The deer flashed in her mind—dark, beady eyes…butno. There was never a deer, was there?
Wren gasped as she collapsed onto her knees.
“What are you saying?” she choked out.
There are more lies than what you already know.The Soulless One’s voice reverberated in her skull, consuming every inch of her.Silas didn’t just steal Blackwood from the True Headmaster. He completely rewrote the laws of the afterlife. He changed the balance of Blackwood.
Around her, the forest changed. Gone were the pine trees and gravel road, replaced by a dark, eerie nothingness. The only thing that remained was Silas. His looming form, cloaked in shadows, those dark eyes staring down at her.
Before Silas took over, the students of Blackwood Academy were selected by the school itself. Their names would appear in its ledger. And upon their death…they were given a choice. Admission into Blackwood wasn’t a requirement—it was an invitation. The souls who said yes were those who truly wanted to help lost spirits—who wanted a purpose, even in death. And after ten years, they were allowed to cross over to the Other Side. Each and every one of them. But when Silas clawed his way into power, he refused to listen to Blackwood. The school had marked him as Corrupted, and he was vengeful. He tore apart the school’s natural order. Instead, he began to choose students himself. He’d pick them when they were still alive and orchestrate a premature death, forcing them into Blackwood on his terms. He didn’t give them a choice. He didn’t let them leave after ten years. He changed the natural laws thatgoverned the afterlife. I suppose it simply never occurred to him that eventually, Blackwood would fight back.
Bile rose in Wren’s throat. Rattling breaths sputtering out of her. She wanted to scream, to cry, but nothing came out, and then the Soulless One’s voice took over, filling her skull once again.
The Ether’s discontent. The Forgetting that plagues students and slowly corrodes their mind. All of them are symptoms of Silas’s blight. Of his lies and deceit. The afterlife was rotting…corrupting under his influence. When it became clear that Silas’s control over Blackwood was slipping, he created the Decennial as a desperate attempt to mend the chaos he had caused. But even with his precious sacrifices, he could barely keep things from completely coming apart. And now…after this Decennial, after so many of his sacrifices made it out unscathed…he knows that his reign has finally come to anend.
Wren glanced up at the frozen figure of Silas standing before her. A fire coursed through her, burning her from the inside out. It was fury like she’d never felt before, an animalisticrage.
Blackwood was always meant to be a choice…The Soulless One’s voice was softer now, closer. As though he were right behind her, knelt beside her…and it was never meant to be your eternity.
Wren wanted to rip her skin off. To free herself from the flames burning her insides. She had never felt such pure hatred, such all-consuming wrath.
“It’s because of him…” she whispered, voice trembling, “…that all of us ended up in Blackwood.”
Yes.
