by Angel Lawson
And I want to know what happens to the students that failed.
I slip away from Elizabeth and Luke, vanishing into the crowd. I push against the throng of people, all eager to get away from the blood and gore. There’s a sense of shock among the students, probably similar to what Luke and Marielle felt when they realized what their parents had sent them to face certain death.
The exit I’m looking for is down on the field—where the students entered the arena. I jump the railing, landing on the grass. My boots skink into the surface. It’s wet with blood—real or fake. I fight a wave of nausea when I see a clump of hair.
The doorway isn’t guarded. Why would it be? Only a fool would head into the bowels of such a place. I leave the bright, glaring lights of the stadium and walk down a long ramp. It’s damp and smelly. I hear voices ahead and press my back against the clammy, exposed dirt walls. I peer around the corner and see faintly lit cells. Four students lean against the walls—all exhausted and out of it. They may not be physically hurt, but the psychic damage is real. I’ve experienced it.
“Leave the losers there. No food. No water,” a man’s voice says. I don’t recognize it.
“Then what?” Another man.
“Then they prove themselves worthy, or they die. It’s a culling. Only the strong will survive.”
A culling. Is that what Roland’s up to? Testing the students to see who is strong enough to be in his army?
Darius certainly proved his worth.
A chill runs down my spine as I realize how foolish we’ve been. How unprepared. We’d been living in denial, thinking we could keep this war from happening, but that’s idiotic. Roland told us why he was here. Why the gods sent him. Did I really think I could just keep the key hidden and everything would be okay?
What if they find it? Do I even have the allies to stop them?
I start to back away, heading toward the entrance. A hand wraps around my arm. I rear back my fist, ready to fight, except that hand is secured when I’m yanked against a hard body with a warm, musky scent.
“What the fuck are you doing down here?”
“Agis?” I swallow back my heartbeat. “Where have you been? Where were any of you tonight?”
“In the shadows,” he says cryptically.
“Did you see the fights?”
I see him nod in the faint light.
“And what? You decided to let it happen? You’re okay with Roland building an army?”
“Victorine is a signal of his desperation. The culling is a front. Pretending to have control. We have the key, Hildi. He’s hoping to flush it out with scenes like this. He’s preying on your conscience.”
“And what? You guys don’t have one?”
He laughs. “Not in a time of war, we don’t.”
“What do we do next?”
“Nothing,” he says, glancing over my shoulder. “We keep doing what we’re doing. We build up our own allies. We keep fit and strong. We protect the key.”
“And then what?” I’m not convinced that will work.
“When the time is right, we take Roland down, just like Garland.”
“And Victorine?” I ask, hearing the guards traveling our direction.
“Keep your distance, she’s dangerous.”
I don’t know what that means, and I don’t get the chance to ask. He pushes me along a corridor, away from the guards, and neither of us speak as we travel down a narrow, tight tunnel. At the end, it’s so dark that I slam into a wooden door.
“You okay?” he asks when I yelp in pain. He’s inches behind me.
I rub my nose. “Yes.”
“It’s late,” he says. “You should head to your room.”
“Where are you going?”
“To check on the students in the cell.”
Does he actually have feelings under all that gruff, muscular exterior?
I touch his chest. “Be careful, okay?”
“I will.”
We stand in the silence together. The weight of the night is heavy between us. He’s right. I need to go to bed.
“Good night, Hildi,” he says, opening the door. It casts us in a swath of light. I glance back, getting a good look at his face before he vanishes again. I shut the door behind me, acclimating to my location. I’m near the dining hall.
On the way to my room, the look on Agis’ face lingers in my mind. For someone who says everything is going to be okay, he sure looks very worried.
5
Hildi
Wind whips my hair and I tuck a piece behind my ear. The view is amazing, as always. Lights twinkle for miles, other than the dark stretch of the park straight ahead. Again, I’m struck by the realness of the moment, and my stomach flips, hoping for another encounter with my winged lover.
Even if it was just a dream.
“I never get tired of being up here,” a voice says from next to me. I look over, surprised to see my friend. Her hand rests on her swollen belly. “Especially at night.”
“Morgan?”
I look over her shoulder for him.
“Did you expect someone else?” Her eyes search my face, then drop to my hand. “Wake up, Hildi. We need to talk.”
Wake up? But we’re talking now—
My eyes pop open and I sit up, startled by the reality of the dream. I’m damp with sweat. I’m hot. Burning. I look down at my hand, where heat radiates from the purple stone in the ring.
Morgan seemed so real in my dream. What had she said? Wake up. We need to talk.
I blink, acclimating myself to the dark room. I can see the shape of Elizabeth’s body in her bed, curled on her side, asleep. A flicker of light draws my attention to my hand. The ring pulses. No. It pulls. A tug, like it’s attached with a tether.
I toss off the blankets and walk barefoot across the room, glancing back at Elizabeth to make sure I haven’t woken her. She continues sleeping and quietly, I exit the room. The hall is quiet. The opposite of the expansive city in my dream. I’d never realized how much quieter it is here, but I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been in the abyss that surrounds the Academy. It’s endless. A void. Silent other than the screeching cry of the monsters.
Gods, the monsters. I’d seen what they really could do tonight. How they’d slaughtered each student one by one, save Darius. I have my doubts he could fight more than one at a time.
The tether yanks, guiding me away from my dorm room and down the hall. I stumble a few times, the link unrelenting. I’m led to a split in the hallway, a corridor I’ve never been down.
It’s filled with mirrors.
I look back toward the entrance and there’s nothing there. Just mirror upon mirror upon mirror, like one of those funhouses on Coney Island.
A shadow crosses the mirrors, dark and swift.
“Hello?” I call, spinning around. I see nothing but reflection after reflection. I still, trying to get my bearings. Another movement. Not from outside the mirrors, but from the inside. I take a step forward and peer inside. There’s no refection. I lift my hand and press it against the glass. It’s warm, like the ring. “Anyone here?”
“Hello, friend.”
I spin and see Morgan smiling from another mirror, this one just behind me. She’s in a black nightgown, one that clings to her large belly and reveals the swell of her breasts. Her hair is curly and wild. I spot tiny diamond hoops glinting from her ears.
“Are you real? Or is this another dream.”
“Another?” When I don’t reply, she studies me carefully. “It’s real. We’ve spent weeks trying to find a way to communicate. The Gods wouldn’t answer. Christensen has no information.”
“Well, we had a Christensen, too. But now he’s gone. Replaced.”
Her face pales, and she absorbs that information before continuing. “The guys used every contact in every realm that they had, but no one knows anything. We’ve been waiting for you to find the ring. What took so long?”
I hold up my hand. “It was buried in my trunk
.”
“Damien made that and spelled it to be hidden in your belongings. It was to reveal itself when you needed us. I guess it wasn’t time.”
I study the handcrafted ring. Damien made this? I shouldn’t be surprised. The magic feels so similar to the blade Morgan had given me—also forged by the Guardian.
I look at my friend. My goal had been to come here and take care of this for the Guardians. I don’t want them to worry. “How’s the baby?”
“Perfect.” Her hand rubs her stretched belly. “Tell me, what do you need?”
“Morgan, we made a deal.”
“To fight for the guardians. Yes.” For the first time she looks at me—really notices me—at my cleanliness and casual outfit. She turns her attention behind me, to the enchanted hallway. “You don’t look like you’re on a battlefield.”
“I’m in an Academy. The Academy for the Immortals. The Stone, the key, the temple, it’s all here.”
Her expression turns hopeful. “And you’ve found these things?”
“Found and sealed off. For now.”
“I don’t understand.”
I give her a brief update—I explain how we have the key and that we’re fighting to keep the temple closed. That the plan is to just keep the apocalypse at bay—as long as we can. Anger flickers in her eyes when I tell her the gods sent Roland to move things along and that Marshal has defected.
“You’re avoiding the Apocalypse?” she asks, forehead creased. “Is that possible?”
“We’d hoped so, but now 'stalling' is probably a better term. Roland won’t allow it to stay closed forever.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Shore up our allies, I guess.” But there’s something that nags at me. It hasn’t left my mind since I met with Christensen weeks ago. The Immortals and our role in this together.
I look closely at my friend. “The connection you have with the Guardians…it makes you stronger, right?”
“Yes, because we were fated, every physical interaction we had made us stronger. It sealed our mating, which, in turn, increased our power.”
“Enough that you were able to finally overthrow the Morrigan.”
She nods, and I consider this. Christensen said I could bring balance. The Immortals are still lost, without mooring. Roland’s arrival only made this worse, something I’m sure the gods anticipated.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“I don’t believe I’m the Immortals' mate—I don’t believe in destiny like that. I’ve already lost the love of my life.” I swallow back a wave of grief. “But Christensen believes I could be the one to provide balance for the warriors and that balance would give us the upper hand.”
“And you wonder if you can accomplish this balance physically?” She seems to take this idea seriously.
“It’s foolish. I’m not you, and they certainly aren’t the Raven Guard.”
“It’s not foolish, you’re trying to win this battle and being a unified front is important. Look how we struggled when Bunny strayed. We had to forgive him before we could win the battle. All of us.” She pauses and rubs her stomach. “You say that you’re not me, and that the Immortals aren’t the Raven Guard. In our reality this is true, but there? The men took their place.”
Her implication takes hold. “And I possibly took yours.”
“Yes.”
“Which means that in the Upperworld we are nothing to one another…”
“But there, at the Academy, they may be your—”
“Destiny.” I swallow. My mates.
It’s crazy, but what about this world isn’t? We’re pawns by bored gods, living in a world with immortal royals, magic keys, and flying monsters.
“Wouldn’t I know?”
“Not always. Especially not in a convoluted situation like this. I was lucky. The Raven Guard knew who I was to them. They’d known for eons. But the Immortals? They’re so caught up in their pain and anger.”
“They had to rely on those emotions to survive, Hildi. It’s instinct. It’s smart. But this Crusade is there to test you all. Obviously, the hardest part isn’t getting the key or even to the temple. It’s right there.”
“How do I handle this?” I twist the ring on my finger, the heat growing faint. “Armin isn’t a problem, but the others? Rupert has some kind of sexual hang up, Miya is celibate, and Agis…”
“Is very angry.”
“So angry.”
I don’t even mention Marshal, because it’s obvious he’s not my mate. More proof he’s truly lost to us.
I look up to say more and I’m startled to see that her image is fading. “Wait,” I say, touching the glass, “I’m not ready for you to go. I don’t know what I’m doing or if this is crazy.”
“It’s a path,” she says, giving me a tight smile, “follow it and see where it leads.”
“I miss you,” I tell her.
“I miss you, too.”
“How do I find you again?”
“The ring will link us.”
I reach out and touch the mirror, and she does the same, the heat from the ring fading fast. I close my eyes and take a breath before reopening them. My hand is flat against the cold stone wall, the mirror gone. I look around the hall—all the mirrors are gone—leaving me wondering if I’d really talked to Morgan or if it was all just a dream.
6
Morgan
I wake the next morning feeling hungover and confused, still unsure if what I’d experienced was a dream or reality.
Maybe it was just my subconscious coming up with a plan. A plan to seduce the Immortals and see if it triggers something. I think about it all morning—about how it shouldn’t be this hard if we’re truly fated. But then again, these are false desires, brought on by us agreeing to take the place of the Guardians. Maybe it takes a little bit to unlock the feelings.
Or, I think, watching Rupert walk across the dining hall, maybe that’s what has them all so unsettled.
I grab my plate and cross the room, taking a seat opposite of Rupert at the out of the way, empty table he likes to occupy. He glances up but doesn’t say anything.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask, stabbing a piece of fruit on my fork. I’m surprised when he replies.
“No.”
“Then what? Are you intimidated?"
He frowns. “No.”
“Then tell me, what’s going on?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Hildi.”
“Well, maybe it’s time that you do, Rupert.” I lean over the table. “You and I are on a team, and the distance between us isn’t going to help us win. Not against Roland, who has brought in some kind of she-demon and clearly doesn’t want to play by the rules.”
He chews his breakfast slowly, then sets down his knife and fork. “I don’t like to be around women.”
“Even me.”
“Especially you.”
Well, that’s not going to work.
I prop myself on my elbow. “Talk to me.”
His eyes drop to my chest, where my shirt is unintentionally gaping. I don’t straighten it. He looks away, cheeks burning.
“You unnerve me. You’ve taken my psychic link hostage. I feel you constantly. Like…”
“Like what?”
“What were you doing last night? I woke up in a sweat, my stomach churning. I kept thinking about Morgan.”
I sit up straight. “Morgan? What about her?”
He scratches his chin. “You were talking to her, or at a painting? Maybe a reflection.”
“What were we saying?”
“I don’t know, but for the first time in a while you’ve been happy.”
I was happy talking to Morgan, which is why thinking it was a dream made it worse.
“Rupert, are the things you see about me real? Or are they more like a prophecy?”
He thinks for a moment. “I knew you were in trouble the night you got the key. I didn’t know specifically what the trouble was, but I knew y
ou were in danger. I also could feel the coldness of the abyss—like it was touching my bones.”
I shiver, thinking about walking across that inky dark water.
Our eyes meet. He’s thinking about it, too.
“I’m sorry that you experienced that. I imagine it is difficult to be around me.” I reach for his hand. He freezes but doesn’t move, allowing me to link my fingers with his. “Is there anything else? Tell me, because we may be able to use it.”
He stares at his plate. “I, I, I feel you at other times.”
“Like when I’m in class? Or training.”
His ears turn red. “Training, maybe. It’s usually when you have intense feelings. Like when…”
There’s a long pause.
“Oh god.” His lips form a thin line. “You know about Armin.”
“Yes.”
“And Marshal.”
He nods.
I don’t even mention the night with Miya. That one is on him.
“You feel all of that?”
He nods, again.
“I’m so sorry, Rupert.” The dining hall fills with students, all in various states of uniform. Why dress up when there’s no classes to go to? Or if you’re going to end up in the dungeon below the school?
“It’s not your fault. Something about this school has me off balance.”
Balance.
I nod in understanding. “You know, it’s interesting, just last night I was thinking about how us being here in place of the Guardians may have greater implications.”
He looks up, interested. “How so?”
“Maybe this place enhances what we walked—well, fell—in with. Maybe it’s enhanced your psychic abilities. Maybe it triggered Marshal’s unbearable narcissism.”
“It’s possible. What about the others?”
“I’m not sure. We’d have to talk to them.”
He studies me. “What about you?”
“I think I came here to lead, but really, I have a different role.” I push my hair over my shoulder. “To forge a bond. A deep, meaningful bond.”
