“Adair, say something.”
“I have to go.” The words escaped him, clipped and dry, and turning, he could practically feel her bouncing after him.
“Adair, talk to me.”
Spinning on his heel, he asked, “About what, Emory? What do you want to talk to the traitor’s son about? How your future is brimming with promise and mine...mine is...” he sputtered, feeling heat rush up through him.
Hurt flashed across her face as she spat, “I can’t choose my family any more than you can! I have been worried sick about you! You haven’t stopped for a second to think that I have possibly come to explain myself? To apologize? That I haven’t been waiting for hours?”
He ran a bloodied hand through his hair, his heart pounding viciously against his chest. “No. You were perfectly clear before.”
With narrowed eyes, she jabbed a finger at his chest. “You listen to me, Adair Stratton. I am sorry for what my dad told me, but I can’t control what is happening in this world! We are surrounded by things that don’t make sense, surrounded by secrets and lies and darkness and now a potential war!” She paused. “But after you left, I talked to my Dad, and I will not go through this without you beside me. He is reconsidering.”
She beamed.
His nails bit into his palms, hidden from her view. “No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“I mean, stay away from me. I want nothing to do with you or your family. I don’t need your charity. I don’t need your friendship. I. Don’t. Need. You.” He had contorted, losing himself in the churning anger inside him.
Emory paled with every word, her eyes brimming as she said fiercely, “You don’t mean that! You’re my best friend.”
He cut the last strand of himself loose as he smiled coldly. “Yes, you will find that I do mean it. Leave me alone. You’re better friends with those two Mixed Bloods.”
Her mouth hung open, and Adair turned back to the school.
What had he done?
The insult cut deep. Mixed Blood, a term from Roque’s father’s reign. People who were not of a superior birthright and had “tainted” abilities. People like Memphis, whose parents were desolates. People like Brokk, who had no idea about his past or where he came from. Even people like Emory, whose ability was an anomaly considering her parents.
Trudging back up to the Academy, in the dying sunlight, he knew there was no taking back what he had said. He glanced back once, Emory still frozen at the bottom of the hill, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Coldness swept through him as he wrenched his gaze forward, his bitterness filling him. She had chosen her life. It was time he chose his own. What scared him most is that he believed she should have chosen him. All those years of shared secrets, of stifled laughter, of whispers, of their dreams, of their fears whisked away with the promise of a crown.
He swallowed hard, the tightness in his throat searing. It was time.
The Academy was no longer his home, and he intended to show the world its secrets.
***
The edges of his vision were tinged red. Adair was frozen, staring at his door with wide eyes. Time seemed to collapse in on itself; his hands shook violently at the deep red slash across his bedroom door and the insults cut into the wood.
Traitor.
He stepped closer, the red paint looking like blood in the dimness of the quiet hallway.
Follow your father to his death.
His bruised hands brushed the knife marks, his tears quietly trickling down his face.
Monster.
A strangled noise slipped from him, and he looked around, wondering which of his classmates had done this. How long had they thought this? Just waiting for the opportunity where no one would do anything about it. When hate would override humanity.
Get the hell out.
It was amazing the power that words held. Either wielded within yourself or by other people, it didn’t matter when you started to believe them.
Grabbing the doorknob, he took a deep breath, twisting it a little too hard. Then everything was chaos. Sharp sirens rang through the intercom; a dull flashing light coursed down the hallway. Doors flew open like a beating drum as students poured out, their confusion clear. Over a decade of familiar faces, staring at him cruelly as they passed, their sly smirks and cutting judgments made Adair’s ability course through him like a shield, tempting to crash through every single mind. Just for a second, they could feel how he felt.
“Out of my way! NOW!”
Roque barreled down the hallway, pure panic etched across his face. Pushing students out of the way, Emory chased at his heels, shooting Adair a glance as she passed him. He didn’t think his feet carried him after them, fear making everything vivid, but he ran, dreading the worst.
At the end of the hallway, the doors exploded open. Nei stood in the last of the daylight, the dried blood stains over her fighting gear; Memphis, Brokk, and Alby supported themselves beside her.
In the distance, a blood thirsty howl echoed.
Roque ran to his wife, not caring there was an audience as he grasped her face in between his hands. “What happened!? Nei!”
“Sarthaven has fallen.”
It was a choked whisper, but it sent ripples throughout the students and remaining teachers. Adair stopped, making himself flush against the hallway as he watched Emory collide into Memphis, hugging him tightly, and then hugging Brokk.
Roque paled. “Cesan?”
Nei nodded, her voice growing stronger. “And Bresslin. Our company was led into a trap. I was the only one to survive. The city itself, Roque... It is overrun by dark creatures that he is controlling. They are killing desolates and anyone who defies them.”
Silence.
“We were followed,” Nei added.
Roque snapped his attention past her, to the towering forest bathed in golden light.
Another howl sliced through the air.
“Where’s my dad?!” Marquis pushed through the throng, his emerald hair standing on end, as he stared at Nei, his voice cracking. “Where’s Tadeas?”
Their heads bowed, not meeting the prince’s gaze.
Paling, Marquis folded in on himself, repeatedly saying, “No. no.”
There was a clambering of hooves in the distance, and Marquis snapped his head up, pushing past them. Adair followed him, coming to the entranceway.
On the horizon, a horse galloped toward them, frothing at the bit, Tadeas clinging onto the reins, his pale green hair unbound. Behind him a creature born from darkness followed. Hunting him. Its long black body twisted and moved at such a pace; Adair couldn’t fathom. It roared, catching up to the King of the Shattered Isles.
Nei was shouting commands, the remaining teachers of the Academy filing up beside her, the senior students jumping in line, abilities cracking to life. Marquis was saying something to him, but he was entranced by the monster, and he couldn’t look away. It was like a siren call.
“You.”
He started walking slowly down the steps, the voices of the Academy fading away.
“I see you.”
His ability flowed into his heart, into his mind. The creature twisted to the left, forcing Tadeas to turn sharply. Herding him toward the forest.
Running now, sweat dripped down the back of Adair’s neck. Throwing his body weight, he hurled himself over the rock ledge as his ability exploded through him, rippling out from him. Right into the monster’s mind.
The creature stopped and twisted violently toward him. It bared its teeth almost in a sickening smile at the new challenge. Adair dove deeper, into the sinew on the creature’s bones, breaking and shattering the walls in its consciousness.
Charging toward him, the ground shaking from the force, he gritted his teeth and ripped against the resistance, so that he could attain control, but he slipped and was slammed back.
“You cannot win against me.”
With furrowed brows, he threw everything he had, barreling down, latchin
g on, and tearing. The creature roared; Adair was almost to it. He could see its gleaming orange eyes, salvia dripping from its teeth.
Tadeas galloped past him, and Adair held his ground. It snapped.
He plunged, transporting, as he was suddenly in control of the monster’s body, looking at himself, pale and bloodied in front of him. From this perspective, the world was a bleak place, no color, no light, only the bloodthirsty yearning for destruction. He willed the monster to stop, his sides heaving, as he took in the charging lines of the Academy. Nei led the assault, the ground churning from her anger; Brokk shifting back into his wolf form; Memphis and Emory running down the hill. And Marquis held back, staring at the creature, knowing that Adair had beaten them all to it.
Students spilled out, fire and ice, lightning and gas cracking to life as abilities readied.
“You will not kill me; we are of the same...”
Adair made the killing blow with his ability, shutting down every major organ, every nerve, every vein, obliterating it until he was slammed into his own body once more.
The monster dropped dead at his feet.
Loosening a breath, the world tilted, and he slowly turned. Everyone had stopped, staring at him with wide eyes. The world tilted, and he collapsed, losing himself into nothingness, whispers chasing him away from the light. Purring and coaxing him into the darkness.
Chapter Twelve
Brokk
“Now who can tell me the practical uses for these plants? Mr. Foster?”
Brokk came to attention, Nei looking at him with soft eyes, the rest of the classroom seemingly half asleep. Two days had passed since they had come back to the Academy. Everything— and yet nothing—had changed.
Clearing his throat, he said, “If they are boiled, the steam becomes airborne poison.”
Wyatt chuckled from the back far corner. “Maybe we should gather up the lot and use it against Stratton’s dad.”
Laughter rippled, as Nei quieted the room, “That is quite enough. You know the rules, everyone. Let’s stay on task.” She nodded then, saying, “Yes, Brokk, you are correct.” She continued to drone on about how to counteract and heal themselves against this gas, but Brokk lost interest.
Shifting in his seat, he angled his body slightly and looked out of the corner of his eye to where Adair stared out the window, looking gaunt with dark circles imprinted underneath his eyes. He was a world away from them, from this classroom.
Brokk ripped his gaze back, staring blankly at the notes in front of him. He was still in shock when Roque ordered classes to resume until the funeral tomorrow. And that after, Stratton had a bloody reception scheduled. To award his bravery against the dabarne that he had killed.
He gripped the desk’s edge, trying not to break it in half. The school was on lockdown; no one could go anywhere without supervision, and absolutely no one could go outside. Emory assured him it was the best thing to do in a time of crisis, but Brokk wasn’t so sure. Going through empty actions while the Faes and Tadeas were locked away scrambling over how to deal with the situation at hand felt pointless.
The bell tolled lazily as everyone jumped to life around him, practically running out of the classroom. Quietly collecting his books, Brokk groaned as he stood, his joints popping and cracking viciously. A gentle tug across his mind made his eyes widen. Again, it was small at first, but then Memphis’s voice rattled against the walls of his consciousness. “I need you here. Quick.”
Trying to act normal, Brokk gave Nei a weak smile before following his classmates out, a lot of them in pairs, their discussions low and intense. A lot of friends had been lost. A lot of people Brokk had grown up with, in an instant, they had become a memory.
“Where are you?” Brokk made the thought concrete, knowing his friend would hear him.
Images flew through his mind instantly, and without hesitation, Brokk quickly complied, his feet carrying him to the small library he had visited countless times. He quickly slipped in the room, shutting the door behind him to find Memphis was bouncing on his heels, looking at him with wild eyes.
“Memph, are you okay?”
Shaking his head, his smooth voice filled his mind once more, “No. Quick. Just trust me.”
Brokk froze, unsure of what his friend wanted him to do. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Memphis swore low under his breath, starting to pace.
“Memphis, what is happening?”
Stopping, Memphis looked at him, his eyes out of focus. He was listening in on another conversation. Memphis grabbed his arm and closed his eyes. Brokk felt a strong ringing fill his senses and then he was succumbed, Memphis projecting what he was hearing like their own private intercom.
“Are you threatening us?” Roque’s voice was low and dangerous.
A man laughed, cold and unyielding. “On the contrary. I have come today to warn you that your efforts will be pointless. What is left of the capital to accept your new title? My clan has seen Sarthaven, and it is full of creatures from your worst nightmares, breeding in the shadows and ripping every soul apart. Except Cesan and his company. We barely made it here safely. So, I have come today on our way back to the Risco Desert to tell the one thing I do know. He is preparing to march on you, Roque, with an army not seen before by men.”
Silence fell heavy, and Tadeas whispered, “I have to go back to the Isles. I didn’t come here to die.”
“You will leave us in our time of need?”
Tadeas seethed. “I have lost some of my best men on the efforts of this allegiance. How many more? Me? My son? What will become of the Isles then, with no one to rule it?”
Roque slammed his fist onto the table. “What will become of Kiero if you leave? Please, Tadeas.” The desperation made his voice crack.
Sighing, Tadeas gruffly asked, “What can we do against an impossible army? How do we beat it?”
The raider chuckled. “That is for you to figure out. Maybe it’s time to consult some of our own myths long forgotten by the likes of you. Maybe the only way to win this war is to consult magic.”
Tadeas laughed. “Magic? You’ve got to be kidding me?”
But Roque paused, and the raider implored, “The King of Kiero seems to know what I am talking about. But work swiftly. You might have days.”
Brokk almost threw up as Memphis severed the connection, and they were thrown back into the present. Memphis rubbed his temples, breathing deeply, and Brokk knew his friend was barely holding on to his control.
“Memphis, what is happening?” Brokk repeated.
Memphis followed his agitated movements as he whispered, “There are no desolates that survived. Brokk, my parents...” His voice broke, and he stopped, just as Memphis’s face crumpled.
He crossed the space in two strides, bringing his best friend into a tight hug. “I know. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He kept his voice soft, and Memphis completely broke down, the loss of their world crumpling down around them all. It would seem Cesan was making sure it would be a fight of might against might.
Minutes passed until they finally broke apart, and Memphis asked, “What can we do?”
Running a hand through his hair, Brokk weighed the situation. “Right now, I say we make it through the funeral. After that, we can start digging.”
“And if we don’t have enough time?”
Brokk looked his friend square in the eyes. “Then we fight for what we believe in. If that’s still the Academy, then we do what we can.”
A heavy silence settled in between them, and Memphis groaned. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“I know.” He smirked, clapping him on the back. “Now, come on. Don’t we have the same class next?”
Brokk turned and stalled, his gaze lingering on a worn black book. Dried blood stained the pages, and it looked like it had been shoved back into place.
“And what are you doing here?” He grabbed the book, the worn title staring back up at him, Myths of Kiero.
Intrigued,
he flipped open the old pages, the book naturally falling open to a worn page, and as Brokk read, his eyes widened with every word. Looking up at Memphis, he whispered, “I think I found our first lead.”
Memphis walked over, peering over his shoulder. He soaked up every word, and when he was finished, he whispered, “Do you think it’s true?”
Brokk smiled wolfishly. “There is only one way to find out. Meet me in my room tonight at midnight.”
The corners of Memphis’s mouth turned down. “What about the lockdown?”
Brokk winked. “You truly think I haven’t discovered an alternate route by now? Just be there.”
Filing out, Brokk tucked away the old book with the rest of his things, adrenaline thrumming through his veins. They walked through the bustling hallway, toward an afternoon of listening to Professor Smet drone on about the history of Kiero and the trading routes developed over the years. Which to say was pertinent, seeing as their trading partners were the Shattered Isles.
Looking at Memphis, Brokk’s heart sank. He had never had a family to lose, except him and Emory. He had fantasized about what his parents would be like, look like, but they were never a physical thing he had.
Memphis’s skin was ashen, his bloodshot eyes squinting against the bustle of the Academy. Every step was too quick, every movement jerky. Brokk didn’t know what he could possibly say that would make this situation easier. So, he said nothing at all, as they navigated the hallway.
***
The ringing of the bell sounded, and Brokk scooped up his books. All hour, his mind had been at war, a constant battle of trying not to think too much of the losses that have torn open their country. If Cesan was openly killing and slaughtering desolates and anyone who refused to join his cause... Cold fury twisted in his gut.
Not to mention his upcoming plan to sneak out of the Academy when they had just managed to escape a battle a few days prior. Every turn, every waking moment, all he saw was bloodied bodies and monsters. Pain waited for him in his heart and mind.
Nodding to Memphis, the unspoken promise lingering between them, Brokk wouldn’t give himself a moment to think about the horrors they had all recently endured. His feet carried him out of the classroom, navigating the hall with ease. Classmates nodded to him as he passed, a hero’s stamp branded on him, Memphis, and Alby ever since they had returned from the Battle of Nightmares—or so he was told that’s what people were calling it.
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 14
