OLIVIER
Carnage.
That was what greeted Olivier when August’s spell transported them back to Blackwood and they materialized near the steps of the Library. For a moment, he let himself revel in the familiarity surrounding him. The thin streams of evening fog drifting beneath his feet. The cool, brisk air whispering against his skin. Large, imposing oak trees flanking his path, their autumnal leaves shivering as they swayed in the breeze.
Blackwood Academy.
He’d never thought he’d miss it.
But before Olivier could allow himself to gettoosentimental, the stench of violence came rushing back in. Destruction loomed near the southern gates, a sea of black and red cloaks. The Demien Order, Resistance fighters and Ascended clashed. Billowing shadows choked the air, while the Resistance did everything in their power to counter their attacks. But no amount of defensive shields or corporeally infused weaponry seemed to be enough to subdue the power of the Demien Order.
We’re not going to win.
Just as the thought echoed in Olivier’s mind, a violent blast of shadows shot out from somewhere to his left. Catherine shoved Olivier square on the back before the spell could find its mark,pushing him out of the way at the last second. He stumbled, regaining his footing. Emilio was at his side by the time he reoriented himself.
Olivier could see the source of the attack now. Three bloodthirsty Demiens prowled closer, hands extended, shadows erupting out of them. Their eyes were pools of black ink. A deadly venom in their stares.
And they were heading straight for Olivier and the others.
Catherine jumped into action, unsheathing her glowing spear, a brilliant arch of silver light shooting out of the tip. Beside her, Dina clutched two of her daggers, craning her neck from side to side as she prepared for action.
August cursed beneath his breath. “Shit.”
Olivier turned to him. “What is it?”
When Olivier turned to look at August, he saw the cost of his shadow magic written plainly upon his face. The black veins now traveled over his neck and face, pulsating with power. There was also a fury burning behind his eyes—an intensity that made Olivier’s stomach churn. But before August could reply, one of the Demiens—the one standing at the head of the trio—called out to them, his voice carrying over the roar of the battle. His hair was blond, though lighter than Olivier’s, black veins traveling up and down his pale face, similar to August’s. And his sights were fixed on them.
“General Hughes!” The boy spoke August’s name with a feral growl. “It appears as though you’re on the wrong side of the battle.”
August stepped forward, but Olivier didn’t miss the slight limp. The way the black veins etched into August’s forearms had begun to grow, traveling higher, infecting him more deeply with every second that passed. August winced, grimacing, as if he were battling an unseen war.
“Leave them alone, Callum.”
The boy, Callum, raised a single eyebrow. “Oh?Is that an order?”
One of the shadows slithering around August’s wrist surged downward, extending past his right hand, drawing itself together. It was changing. Coalescing to form what appeared to be a sword. The shadows hardened, less cloudlike, almost solid. August gripped the hilt of the sword, pointing the edge of the blade toward Callum.
“You still have time to retreat.”
Callum considered his words, his mouth stretching into a cruel smile as his own shadows were forged into a twin sword. “But where would be the fun in that?”
The Demiens moved as one. Olivier barely had time to react, pulling Emilio closer as a swirling mass of shadows swept past them. Callum and August met at the center of the battle, barreling toward one another. Their swords clashed together. The other two Demiens, the ones who had been flanking Callum, turned their sights on the rest of the group. One of them zeroed in on Emilio.
Olivier tried to jump in front of him, but the Demien was faster, and a spear forged from shadows shot out of his hand before Olivier could even move a muscle. Emilio, however, was ready. Despite cradling Benji in one arm, he lifted his free arm, and a shield spun out of his palm. Just as the spear was seconds away from making contact, it slammed against the golden light of Emilio’s shield, disintegrating before it could make contact.
The Demien growled, incensed. He raised his arm, poised to strike. But the attack never came. Instead, the Demien’s eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open. It took Olivier a few seconds to notice Housemaster Birdie standing behind the Demien…and her arm protruding from his chest.
With a guttural scream, Birdie ripped her arm out, a swirling dark mass clutched in her palm.His soul, Olivier realized with a small gasp. The Demien’s eyes went unnaturally blank. And then the shadows coursing through his veins seemed to envelop him, swallowing his entire being, until all that was left was a shapeless mass of shadows that vanished into the air.
Olivier offered his former Housemaster a shaky smile. “Thank you.”
Birdie wiped the sweat from her brow and chuckled. “Glad I could be of service.”
Somewhere to the left of them, Catherine and Dina had been caught up in their own battle, fending off the other Demien with their corporeally infused weaponry. But Catherine had been badly wounded, and Olivier could tell by the blood pooling out of her stomach that she needed a healer—fast.
Luckily, it appeared that Housemaster Russo had snuck up on their attacker as well. She plunged her arm into his chest, and Olivier watched as the Demien’s soul was obliterated, swallowed by the shadows that burst out of them.
August, however, remained caught in his battle with Callum. The two boys stood face to face, their shadow blades pressed together.
