The connecting threads that bound them all together. The beating heart of the afterlife.
Masika let out a shuddering breath and stared up at the arched gates of Blackwood Academy. It was as if the ivy-draped halls of the school were speaking to her. Whispering her name.
The wind picked up speed. The ground beneath her shook.
Understanding washed over Masika as a final crackle of lightning lit up the sky.
It all made sense now. The strange connection she’d been feeling toward Blackwood. The way her touch had appeased the unruly willow when it had tried to consume Olivier. Her inexplainable connection to the fox.
This was her right. Her final act of defiance.
Her calling.
Masika slipped the ring on.
It was time for a new Headmaster.
51
AUGUST
August wasn’t just going to let her wither away. He refused to simply stand back and watch the light fade from her eyes. So when he lifted Wren back onto her feet, throwing her arm over his shoulder, he ignored the searing current coursing through his limbs, the shadows digging deeper into his veins.
All of his attention, all of his focus, was on Wren.
On finding a way to save her.
He needed to find the Resistance. Maybe there was something they could do. If he could locate one of their healers in the chaos unfolding outside, then maybe they could mend whatever had broken inside Wren’s soul.
But the moment August dragged Wren out of Silas’s office and into the corridor, he staggered to a halt.
Somebody was waiting for them.
Edith Hughes stood at the center of the narrow corridor. Fury burned behind her eyes.
“It wasn’t enough to betray me once, was it?”
“Please, Edith.” August raised his hand in surrender. Beside him, Wren let out a groan, head lolling against his shoulder. She was barely conscious, and it was taking all August’s strength to keep her standing. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Not to mention that he was desperate not to use another ounce of shadowmagic. He was certain that if he did, if he allowed himself to indulge in his power again, he’d be lost forever. The shadows were intoxicating. He felt them tearing at his insides, begging to consume him.
Edith let out a bitter chuckle.
“Hurtme? You think you can hurt me?” Edith lifted her hand and a swirling sphere of shadows hovered over her palm. “That’s the point of all of this. Nothing can hurt me anymore. Not you. Not the past.Nothing.”
August shook his head.
“I know a part of you still has to care,” he muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to keep himself upright with the weight of Wren’s limp body in his arms. “You’re still my sister.”
Edith’s scowl only deepened at the accusation.
“I am nothing to you anymore.”
August saw with painful clarity the moment Edith called upon her shadows. Everything seemed to slow down. She extended her arm, poised to strike, hand aimed directly at August’s heart, and then…nothing.
Edith’s face twitched. She stared down at her hand in bewilderment, watching as the sphere of shadows in her palms dissipated, vanishing completely. She extended her fingers, but still nothing happened. And then, like the gentle light of the moon breaking through the darkness, the shadows running through her veins began to clear. One by one, they grew fainter, until every single one of the shadows inside Edith had seemingly vanished, even the infamous shadow crown over her head.
Confusion coursed through August as he felt his own body suddenly grow stronger.
The pain in his limbs vanished. The unbearable ache softened, until he barely felt it.
