At the sound of her outburst, Mateo’s expression shifted.
Irene often found herself forgetting the power lurking under Mateo’s seemingly benign mask. It was in these moments, silence reverberating between them, tension twisting the air, that she was unwillingly reminded of the danger lurking beneath the surface. But instead of backing away, of cowering under that realization, Irene simply straightened her shoulders, looked him squarely in the eyes and asked, “Do you want me to trust you?”
Mateo flinched, taken aback. When he looked at her, it was almost as if he were seeing through her, examining every inch ofher soul with nothing but his gaze. And then he inhaled a quivering breath and lowered his eyes in surrender.
“There’s a prophecy…” he began, his voice barely a whisper. “The Soulless One spoke it with his first breath. He carved it into his soul, branding it within the heart of the Demien Order.From my blood she will drink, a debt for a price. A promise of darkness, a last sacrifice. Rotten and broken, his lie comes undone; when the two meet their maker…the two become one.”
“I don’t understand.” Irene shook her head, desperate to make sense of his words. “What does that mean?”
“She…is the catalyst,” Mateo explained. Something unsettling blazed behind his eyes, an intensity Irene had never seen before. “The harbinger of destruction. The one who will lead the Order in battle and destroy Blackwood, once and for all.That’sour how. We find the catalyst…and she ushers in the clean slate.”
“And how are we supposed to figure out whosheis?” Irene asked.
Mateo dropped Irene’s hand, opening the notebook once again.
“We don’t need to. We already know”—Mateo turned to the final page and angled it toward Irene—“and so doyou.”
At first, the page appeared entirely blank, whatever was written upon it concealed by a privacy enchantment. But as the seconds passed, something began to form upon the surface. Bloodred ink swirling into shapes…a pair of eyes…a nose…a mouth…until a perfectly drawn figure emerged, sketched in red ink and shimmering speckles of magic.
Irene couldn’t contain the gasp that sprang out of her.
She took a step backward, hoping and praying that what she had seen, what she was looking at, wasn’t real. That this was all some sadistic, twisted joke. Because the face sketched in red ink, the face staring back at her…was none other than Wren Loughty.
3
MASIKA
Masika Sallow had mastered the art of subtlety. Dipping in and out of shadows undetected, plastering on an inconspicuous smile—nothing to see here, keep it moving. It was for this reason that people tended to underestimate her, to see her as nothing more than the meek and unassuming friend. But she had learned that, sometimes, being invisible wasexactlywhat she needed.
As Masika made her way through the winding corridors of the Resistance’s manor, eyes lowered and mouth curved into a placid smile, she was silently thankful for this keen ability of hers. Members of the Resistance scurried past her, clearly running late for the meeting, but nobody batted an eye. Nobody even spared her a passing glance.
Which was fine by Masika—given what she was about to do.
Sneaking around the Resistance’s manor had posed a bit of a problem the first few days. Masika had attempted to explore the various Wings, though she’d somehow ended up getting inexplicably lost. Similar to the Ascended Quarters back at Blackwood, the Resistance’s manor appeared to be enchanted on the inside, almost as if it magically expanded to fit the roughly one hundred members roaming inside. There were multiple floors and basement levels, a maze of hallways that had been nearly impossible for her to navigate when she’d first arrived. Now, after acouple of weeks—and some trial and error—Masika had gotten the hang ofit.
For the most part.
As the corridor began to clear, Masika summoned a cloaking enchantment, the defensive magic washing over her skin in a haze of pale blue and golden threads.
Her window of opportunity was small. The last person was entering the Battle Room, the door slowly closing behind them. Masika beelined for the closing door, slipping into the room with barely a second to spare.
As she stumbled forward, she looked up, surveying the scene.
A large oval table stood at the center of the room, made from dark oak and embellished with intricate carvings. A chandelier dangled a few feet above the center of the table, though each arm appeared to be made from bark and the bulbs shaped like crystallized droplets of water. Instead of the usual amber glow of a flame, each bulb gave off a pale cerulean sheen, washing the room in a bluish glow.
The table itself was massive, large enough to fit all twenty-one Leaders of the Resistance. The Leaders were divided into three subgroups—combat trainers, healers and strategists. It was their job to train the rest of the Resistance, to prepare them for the inevitable battle looming on the horizon.
It’s their job to make sure we stand a chance, Masika thought with a shudder.
There were only two faces Masika properly recognized—Birdie and Russo. Birdie sat on the right side of the table, among the strategists, while Russo sat on the left, at the head of the combat trainers. It still felt odd to see the pair without their Housemaster’s cloak. Like the other Leaders of the Resistance, Birdie andRusso appeared to be perpetually poised for battle; their shoulders covered with shimmering chain-mail spaulders, ruby-encrusted chokers protecting their necks. Leather armor sat snuggly around their torsos; a set of corporeally infused daggers rested upon Birdie’s waist, while Russo kept a glowing spear strapped to her back.
And sitting at the far end of the table, arms draped over her chair as she waited for the others to settle, was Catherine.
For a terrible, prolonged moment, Masika could do nothing but stare. After all this time, after all the years spent waiting and clinging to the stubborn hope that she might one day see her again—Catherine washere. But there was no room in Masika’s heart for joy, not when the truth stung more than losing her everdid.
Because Catherine had escaped the Demien Order years ago to join the Resistance.
Which meant she hadn’t been forced to stay away from Masika…she’dchosento.
