by G. Bailey
“Let’s start by going west. It usually sets there after sunset.”
She nods, tucking it under her arm. “To the west we go!”
I giggle, linking arms with her again, and we step deeper into the forest. It takes tremendous effort not to look over my shoulder at the shadows I know are watching.
These ones don’t just spy from the treetops—they’re everywhere, and they are not my friends. Not anymore.
Letting the shadows of the forest hide me, I watch a girl with midnight blue hair step out of the carriage. Her silver eyes scan the forest, so full of wonder, her expression reminding me of a child who has just been read their favorite fairytale. But this isn’t a fairytale.
This is war.
And that girl who laughs with her pink-haired friend is the key to everything.
My hands itch to reach out, to touch her and feel the fight of the magic in her soul that is so addictive.
So alluring.
Welcome to Shadowborn Academy, Corvina Charles.
May you die soon.
The snatches of moonlight dwindle the deeper we venture into the forest. It’s only dusk, but under this thick canopy of leaves, it’s difficult to make anything out without second-guessing myself. We would be shuttered in complete darkness if not for this enchanted torch.
“Let’s face it, we’re lost,” I grumble at Sage, dragging my feet through the rotting vegetation after her. The damp leaves sliding against my pale skin and the underbrush snagging my electric blue hair feel like spectral claws trying to ensnare me again. Not today, Satan! I kick them away with my leather boot, a cold shiver snaking through my body. “We’re going around in circles, Sage.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, pausing for a moment before glancing around. I follow her gaze, reminded for the first time since we got here how strangely mesmerising this part of the forest is: the way the vines and moss wind around the towering trunks; the light from my torch gleaming against dark puddles of water like liquid peridots; the fireflies glowing and flashing in the dark, giving us that extra bit of light. Even the plants are unique and unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Some of them stretch out as we pass by and others open their beautiful, glowing petals to release small critters that must have been snoozing there. Or they were just regurgitated supper. Either way, I’m surprised by how cool this place looks, despite that Sage and I are most definitely lost.
Sage comes back over to me, pointing to her book. “I think we’ve been going the wrong way.”
Not the best at deciphering cardinal points, I follow in her wake. But when I turn around, something catches my eye, a glint of moonlight glittering against a spiderweb.
Pitch shuffles inside me, tightening the air in my chest as a warning.
He’s right.
Gossamers.
They love to hide in places like this—dark, damp, desolate. It’s the perfect place for a young demon to fester in their nest. They’re not the most powerful of demons, and while I’m sure Sage and I can handle ourselves should any ambush us, I don’t really fancy fending off a whole nest of Gossamers on an empty stomach.
I’m about to suggest we put out a signal for help, when the branches start moving around me and the earth sways a little beneath my boots. I steady myself and tighten my grip on the torch. The branches creak and crack, their tips extending into daggers that slowly inch towards me. I look around for Sage, but the blood in my heart freezes when I see her. She’s on her hands and knees several feet away, screaming in agony.
Panic grips me, and I thrust out my free hand, casting a simple arctic spell to freeze the branches from moving. They just shatter the ice and continue to grow faster, over and around me like a deadly cage. I manage to cut through most of them with magic and run after Sage; I need to get her out of here. I knew this journey would lead us to our doom instead of our destination. People like me rarely get good luck. But I’ll be damned if Sage is to suffer alongside me.
“I’m coming, Sage, just hold on!”
Despite shouting from the top of my lungs, I can barely hear my own words.
A sharp, stabbing pain grips the back of my neck. I abandon my torch on the ground and let out a surprised scream. Whatever it is, it burns all the way down to my toes, and when I look at my trembling hands, the veins in my wrists are luminous and pulsing with some kind of poison.
Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! What did we do?
We never touched anything or triggered any traps.
It’s like someone has hexed the trees and cast the two of us under a curse. But why? What for? Surely torture can’t be part of the challenge?
Pitch recoils within me. His shadow projects out from my body, writhing in agony, only to merge back into me again with a shattering smack. The impact knocks me off my feet and I collapse to the ground, clutching my neck. There’s a puddle behind me, and I can see a rose made of fire singeing into my flesh, drawing blood that races down and onto my top, staining the pale blue material with splashes of red.
Sage stops screaming in the distance, reminding me that I need to find her. I let go of my neck, grab my torch again, and carefully weave my way through the twisting branches. My arms and legs tremble as if I’m about to liquify onto the ground. Some of the branches snag me, cutting through my top and skin. One of them catches my cheek, just missing my eye by a hair, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not even with how violently my neck is burning, or how desperately my legs want to collapse. Something is horribly amiss here and Sage is the one suffering. Got to keep going…almost there…almost…there…
I duck under the thickest branch so far, and using magic to momentarily freeze the ones sprouting above, I drop my torch and leap towards Sage. The instant I touch her unconscious body, she disappears into smoke.
Just like that.
Gone.
“Sage? Sage!”
I claw at the ground, digging my fingers under the soil and dead leaves, but the more I fruitlessly dig, the more my desperation turns into suffocating fear. How can she just disappear like that?
More branches crack overheard. I spin around, watching in horror as they claw towards me. I bury my hands into the dirt and push myself up, but thick, spidery roots erupt from the surface of the earth, and they latch onto me, tangling first around my feet, then my legs, and lastly my throat. With a ferocious heave from the roots that pulls me into the air, I come crashing back down, and darkness clouds my senses.
I wake up to silver light pouring into my eyes. The moon is so close, so beautiful through the dappled leaves, that I’m almost certain this time I’ll be able to touch it. It reminds me of the time I opened my eyes at the bottom of the well. The moon was the first thing I saw. Now it’s the first thing to welcome me as I regain consciousness.
As if only now remembering what the hell just happened, I shoot upright and glance down my body. There are no roots tied around me and even my cut arm has miraculously been healed.
I look around, taking in the familiar surroundings from before. I’m definitely where I was before I lost consciousness, but I’m still alone. Where’s Sage? Was her disappearance just part of the illusion? Even if this was just an illusion, it was painful as fuck and everything felt incredibly real. I’ve got to go look for her.
Straightening off the ground, I dust the dead leaves from my clothes and look up at the sky. I can see all the stars again, as if the trees themselves have been moved to unlock the view. I turn in a small circle, and there, shining brightly opposite the moon, is the Evening Star. My only choice is to follow it and hope Sage does the same as me. Or maybe she’s already arrived at the school. She had her book, after all. I bet the pages said nothing about tree branches and roots trying to kill you.
I reach back to touch my neck, and wince. It still hurts and I can feel the ridges of the new rose tattoo. What the fuck that’s for, I have no idea, but I intend to find out. I grab my torch again, light it with my hand, and turn back the way we came. Now we are alone, Pitch steps
out from my body, no longer a shadow but a huge, gorgeous man dressed in a pair of black trousers that hang loosely from his hips.
My feet root to the spot and I slowly trail my eyes up his muscular torso to his handsome face. His golden eyes bleed into my own, and my breath hitches. I’ll never get tired of seeing his male form. It certainly beats his shadow one, that’s for sure.
He reaches out and gently tilts my chin up.
“Are you okay?”
I give a hesitant nod. “It was just unexpected. And sore. My ass still hurts.”
A smirk pulls at his stubbled cheeks, and he brushes his thumb over the seam of my lips. With the moon bathing his olive skin in a soft glow and the sheer beauty of his fae features, I’m reminded why I was able to forgive him: I’ve loved this man since the first moment I saw him.
“Your neck,” he growls, turning me around so my back faces him. “This is a protection spell.”
“It is? Sure didn’t feel like it was protecting me.”
He grunts, rubbing his palm lightly over the mark. “Tell me about it.”
A cold sensation trickles down my spine, cooling the burn on my neck instantly. Pitch and his healing charms. I’d be lost without them.
I remember how much pain he’d also been in, more so than I had, and I turn to face him.
“Why did it hurt you? You don’t usually feel my pain.”
Pitch pauses and I pierce the torch into the soil, casting a halo of light around us. Running a hand through his messy, dark hair, he answers, “It was a spell that wards off evil spirits.”
The blood drains from my face. “Does that mean… you can’t… with the rose…” I blurt out, unable to properly say the words. I mean, I should feel happy for him if he’s been freed from my soul, right? But I’m not. I guess deep down I don’t really want him to go. Chances are he only stays with me because he has to. Give a bird its wings again, they’ll fly away forever.
I inwardly cringe at how pathetic I sound.
We’re not real soul mates.
Far from it.
I’m just not sure I’ll be able to face the next few years on my own. His guidance and mentorship regarding all things dark magic has been an invaluable source of information. And he’s the only one who’s ever been there to soothe my nightmares, regardless if he unintentionally caused them.
He must sense my uneasiness because he leans down to brush his lips against my own and tangles his hands through my wavy hair. I melt into his grip, pressing my body to his, and as our kiss deepens, I wrap my arms around his neck, lifting myself onto my tiptoes. In all honesty, those roots fucking terrified me. I thought I just lost Sage and then I was about to be smothered to death.
“I’m not going anywhere. Your soul and mine are entwined, Corvina, whether we want them to be or not. You own every inch of me.”
Pitch holds me to his powerful chest, and I can feel his erection nudging into my body.
“Every inch?” I grin against his lips and slide my hand down his chest…
His reflexes are much quicker, and he grabs my hand. I can’t help the quiet protest that escapes my mouth when he lets me go, but he’s right. Now isn’t the time to go further than kissing. He always holds back but he never tells me why. I think part of it is because of how guilty he still feels about what happened.
At any rate, I need to find my best friend.
She’s more important right now.
“Okay,” I grouse, pouting at him. “You’re better at this tracking stuff than me. Can you help?”
Pitch nods and opens his mouth to reply, but a strange whoosh carries through my ears, and then a light, pale and blinding, hovers in the air beside us.
“What… the hell… is that?” I ask, keeping my focus on the strange little light.
“I wondered when you’d show up,” Pitch says to the ball of fire. Turning to me, he explains, “It’s a will-o’-the-wisp. These ones are different from mortal legends. When someone’s path has been intercepted by a dark force, a wisp will appear to guide you back to the light. In this case, I imagine it’ll take you to the academy, which is ironic considering it’s a school for shadowborns.”
He’s got a point, but this wisp will certainly be useful. Talk about being fashionably late to the party.
“I still don’t know why you couldn’t just tell me the academy’s location to begin with,” I grumble to him.
“Because it’s a journey you had to take on your own,” he counters, facing the little wisp. “It seems this is also part of your journey.”
I approach the wisp skeptically, narrowing my eyes against the blinding light. “Did it come from the Mirror Fountain?”
“Yes.”
“Sage said we weren’t far from the fountain but I was so certain we got lost. I should’ve listened to her. What exactly are these…wisp thingies?”
Pitch comes to my side, and he runs his big hand down the back of the floating wisp like he’s petting it. The creature seems to be a living thing. It bristles and cackles as soon as he strokes it.
“Rumour has it they were created from one of Selena’s stars. They were used to guide her people in moments of darkness.”
“That’s cool and all, but damn did the wisp take its sweet time. I nearly died back there, ya know.” I’ve also never asked him this before, but now seems as good a time as any. “Pitch, did you ever meet Selena?”
He shakes his head. “She faded before my time.”
Faded. What an odd yet beautiful way to put her death. The Book of Zorya said she cut her own heart out to save her sister.
I used to always joke that if I had to sacrifice my heart for Sage, she’d be bitterly disappointed by the swinging brick I’d have to offer.
I face the wisp again, grabbing my torch. “Okay, little wisp. Please show the way.”
The wisp blinks into nothingness and then returns several feet away. With Pitch by my side, holding my hand in that protective, alpha way of his that makes me weak in the knees, we follow the wisp through the dimly lit forest. It only feels like minutes later when we arrive at the academy, and I feel a little stupid for not finding it on my own.
The castle looks like it’s half crawled out of the ground, or the ground itself has attempted to swallow it whole at some point. The top of the building is rustic and old with leaf-shrouded towers that almost look like trees. Fallen leaves and moss shroud every inch of the brickwork, blending it in with the forest. Green and amber stained glass windows stretch up the sides of the main part of the castle, showing some sort of story of a woman and a moon. As the moonlight trickles through the trees, it shines through the glass, reflecting bursts of iridescent light in circles on the ground in front of me. I notice there isn’t a front door or any door on this part of the academy. The only visible entrances are two cave tunnels with enormous statues at either side of them. They’re sculptures of Danica and Selena, carved from marble, and they’re holding glowing blue stars in the palms of their hands. They are breathtakingly beautiful.
Home sweet home.
Maybe my time at this academy won’t be entirely unbearable after all.
Pitch transforms back into his shadow and merges with my body. It’s not like anyone can see him unless he wants them too, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
A sullen man dressed in dark black robes stands beside the cave on my right. He watches me like a hawk as I veer towards him. When I reach the entrance, he looks down his hooked nose at me and lifts his thinly-pressed lips into a scathing smile.
“Welcome to Hell, Miss Charles. You just failed your very first challenge.”
I hold in my reply for all but a second, wanting to believe I can be a better person, but I’m rotten to the core and I really don’t like the way this man is sneering at me.
“I didn’t fail.”
He lifts his bushy white eyebrows, his skin deathly pale and his slicked-back hair like freshly fallen snow. “Wisps are a way of cheating. The idea was for you to find your ow
n way to the academy without help of any kind,” he states matter-of-factly, speaking as though he’s got something very large and uncomfortable shoved up his ass. “I am Maximus Greyhorn, the third of my name and current headmaster at Shadowborn Academy. You may address me as Mr Greyhorn, Sir, or Headmaster.”
It takes considerable effort not to roll my eyes and address him as something more derogatory.
“I hardly called the wisp. It came to me,” I explain, though I feel like it’s falling on deaf ears.
The man’s pale blue eyes cut into me like shards of ice. While others might find his scrutiny intimidating, I stare back just as boldly. I’m already beginning to hate this man.
Breaking our little standoff, I glance around quickly, wondering where the hell Sage is. Now I know this is all some kind of messed up test, I’m not that worried about her. Sage passes every test and it’s usually me that fails. Figures that I failed this one, too.
Harrumphing under his breath, he replies, “Well, that I do not believe. Wisps are magical, sentient beings and they do not come to the aid of silly little shadowborns lost in the woods. Now come. We have much to get through.”
Without saying another word, he pivots on his heel, his black cloak billowing around him, and marches to the entrance of the cave. Not having much of a choice, I shuffle my feet after him, making sure to keep a good distance. There’s something off about this man; he reeks of death. Sage always chuckles when I say I can smell death, but I really can smell the lingering scent of it on someone who took a life. And this headmaster has something foul lingering on him. Pitch said it’s a special gift of mine and that he can do the same thing.
But getting him to actually explain why I can do these things is another matter. I’m also not sure how I’m going to pretend not to know all the spells he’s taught me already. If I’m to blend in with the others, I’ll need to dim my powers a little.
